darquette

To say Jo was driving you crazy was quite the understatement.

Yuma was no help. Every time you vented to him he would just laugh and say "Just grab him and have your way with him". Like that was the way to approach the dying feeling in your chest every time Jo smiled in your proximity, every day, month, year, that went by with you just wanting to tell him how you feel.

Yet you couldn't.

Jo is precious to you. You wouldn't risk that closeness.

The teetering tension between you two would just have to stay on the edge of the cliff for just a little longer. At least that's what you were settling for.

Until the grin on Yuma's face spread as he looked at Taki than back at you as the hangout had come to an end.

You immediately shook your head as Yuma stood up, B-lining for Jo. You never should have told him or any of your other friends about your little crush that was brewing on Jo (you've been madly in love with him for two years).

But, nonetheless, here you are, arm brushing his every now and then as you walked side by side, everyone else already having a spontaneous thing they have to get home too or whatever other excuses they all agreed to in a group chat titled "matchmakers" you definitely didn't see on Fuma's phone five hangouts ago, your whole friend group in the chat minus you and... of course, Jo.

Jo looked good. Simple, yet good. Always. He did always. His hoodie hanging off his shoulders in a way that made him look bigger than he really was under all that height, bone, and rice bloated belly you knew was hiding under there. His hands buried deep in his pockets to hide his fidgeting.

It was quiet between you two. The silence made you think

He smelled good, a faint musk of vanilla and something masculine like Sandalwood or Bergamot, a similar smell to a cologne K after wears.

Somewhere in between making awkward eye contact before crossing the street and jumping over a puddle in the sidewalk you managed to end up right out front of your apartment. Only then did you realize you had been zoned out the whole time, following Jo.

How'd he know how to get to your place from the restaurant? You fumbled with your keys before looking over at him, mouth half open to say something but you held your tongue when you locked eyes.

It's been years, why do you still get choked up? "Goodnight, Jo." You eventually whispered, hand stiffening on the handle.

He looked a bit bewildered, like he was caught off guard that your time together already ended and he didn't even get to say anything yet.

Jo nodded, a soft hum, quiet and carried away by the wind. "Goodnight." You gave a small smile before stepping inside, shutting the door behind you and immediately letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding.

Pressing your back against the door your hand found your chest, trying to catch your breath, even though the stairs to your door weren't even that many.

With a sigh, you cleared your throat and sat up straight, kicking off your sneakers and heading to the kitchen, desperately needing water.

"Wait- shit..." You muttered.

You forgot to pick up your mail and you're already late on bills. Rubbing a hand over your face you head back to your front door, shoving your feet back into your shoes with a groan and shrugging the door open.

"You-"

"Jo?" You muttered, confused at why the boy was still standing outside your door.

He looked a bit startled, his hair tousled like he had been pacing for the past two minutes. "It's not what it looks like." He defended.

"Why're you here?" You ask, foot still halfway out of the door.

Jo blushed, big ears turning a soft pink shade. "I- uh- why're you here?" "It's my apartment, Jo."

His mouth formed an 'O', like he had forgotten that fact in the mist of his embarrassment.

"Jo...?" You repeated, not quite sure why both of you were still standing there.

The look on his face was hesitant before it brewed into something closer to prepared regret as he stepped forward, like he was actually going to do something, like he was going to break the tension.

Right before you thought you would be met with the worst kiss ever (knowing Jo is highly inexperienced and too shy to really put energy into it) that would be the best thing ever because hell, it's Jo, kissing you, you, he paused.

An inch away, just before your noses bumped into each other he paused, full on halted, you could practically taste his breath.

"Why'd you hesitate?" You asked after a moment of him just staring down at your lips, contemplating the meaning of inching forward and finally sealing the bridge between you.

He closed his eyes, hand finding your cheek. "I'm scared."

That was all he whispered before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, meeting him halfway in the worst best first kiss you've ever had.

Your noses bonked, he let out a yelp of surprise but you kept him close, in the moment, nails digging into the back of his neck to ground him, a plea for him to just focus, focus on you.

His lips were soft, warm, hands big and shaking when they found your waist, tentatively pulling you closer as you bumped your teeth with his.

"Relax.." You whispered against his lips, pressing a peck as you pulled him as you backed up into your apartment, hand sliding to his chin to pry his mouth open a bit. "Open a little, it's less painful."

He nodded, still not looking you in the eyes, staring daggers at your lips in a shy way that could only translate from jo body language to hungry.

You shivered a bit as he leaned back down, God did he make you nervous.

The kiss this time was better, less hesitant, deeper as Jo pried one hand off your waist to click the door shut behind him, kicking over his shoes with a clumsy shuffle as he tried to stay focused on you. Your warmth under his hands, the softness of your lips scraping against his as he kept his mouth open a bit more like you instructed.

"ah-" you let out a soft whimper when he accidentally bit down on your lip.

He pulled away. "I'm sorry!" He said all too quickly, hands finding you cheeks to make sure you were okay.

You chucked, "Jo..." you placed your hands over his, slowly pulling them to place them back on your waist. "I liked it." He shivered.

"I.. like you." You continued, hand finding the back of his head, fingers curling into the roots and giving a light tug.

"I like you too..." Jo whispered, like he wasn't allowed to speak in your presences, at least not like this, his hands on you, your lips glossy with his spit, your hand in his hair tugging on him like you want him as much as he wants you.

You peered up at him as his eyes tracked your face, God you loved this look on him. "Kiss me?" "Yes ma'am." He said all too urgely, practically flying down to press his pretty lips to yours.

You were enjoying this too much, fingers carding through his hair, giving the occasional tug which he would reply with lewd noises as he backed you up til your knees buckled at the edge of your bed.

He hovered over you, just looking down at you, your hair splayed out on your comforter, one of your wrists pinned up by your head by his big hand, long fingers curling around your wrist.

"I really-" He paused, again. This was getting annoying.

"Speak up." You urged, scooting up the bed a little.

Jo pressed his lips into a firm line, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "How far are we taking this cause I've never-"

"Joseph." "What?" He blinked.

You sighed, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your top. "I want you."

You might have broken him with the way he frozen, ears beat red, eyes tracking your hands every movement as you kept unbuttoning the blouse lower.

"What're you-" He stuttered, feeling like he shouldn't be seeing this much skin.

"I'll take as much as you give me." You clarified, teasingly slipping on shoulder of the top off.

Jo swallowed.

You shrugged off the other shoulder, blouse hanging off your elbows now.

"this is illegal..." He murmured, covering his eyes.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh as you reached over, hand finding one of his wrists and bringing his hand dangerously close to your chest.

He blushed impossibly harder, his pants feeling tighter than normal around his hips. "What're you doing..?" "Relax." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his palm before nuzzling your cheek into his warm skin, pulling his hand lower and lower, against your neck, shoulder, collarbone, then just over the mound of your breasts.

You could feel his heart beat in his wrist jump at the warm brush of your chest against his hand, he kept his eyes squeezed shut, for a good two minutes of his hand laying over your bra.

Jo peaked his eyes open, hesitant to look. He held his breath, fingers twitching when he saw his own hand pressed so nicely against such an intimate part of you.

You smiled, gently letting go of his wrist, "I trust you, okay?" He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat before inching just a bit closer, knee bonking yours as he moved his hand up, finger sliding under your bra strap, gently pushing it down your shoulder with a hitched breath and trembling fingers.

Jo eye's flicked up to yours, a quick check that this was still okay as his hand made a slow track to your other shoulder, you peering back at him to gauge his reaction.

You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat as he pulled down your other strap, finger tips grazing over your skin as he pushed your bra down all the way, and he trembled just a little more.

"You-... I'm sorry." He stuttered, he wanted to tell you that you were beautiful but he didn't know if he could manage the words out without sounding like a fool. "perfect, you're perfect."

His voice shook as he spook, leaning his head into the crook of your neck.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his back as his chest pressed against yours, his hands snaking behind your back to un-clip your bra, leaning back to peel it off of you gently, setting to down of the floor along with your blouse carefully.

Jo stared down at you for a long moment before back at your eyes, almost looking guilty.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss. "it's okay."

"I know.." He muttered, finger tips grazing your skin, tracing right above your breasts, building up the courage for more bold moves.

"you too?" You asked, tugging on the hem of his hoodie. He blushed, forgetting he had to undress to.

He stammered for a moment before fumbling with the hem and pulling it over his head, blush running down his neck as he sat there topless just like you, looking away.

"Hey, don't look away." You whispered, pressing soft kisses on his cheek, trailing down his neck.

Jo looked back, eyebrows knit together. "not what you wanted?" He asked softly.

You immediately shook your head. Sure he wasn't the most muscular, bulky guy out there, but he was jo, and jo was for you, and jo was perfect, especially in all the spots his bones poked out of his skin a bit, or his flecks of dark moles along his shoulders and chest, and is puffy belly because he ate too much rice earlier.

"You're all I wanted." You whisper, almost shy of the answer as you press lazy kisses into his simmering skin, down his sharp jaw to the column of his throat.

He shivered again, tilting his head to give you more access, hands finding your sides, his nails scraping into your skin as soft, pretty, lewd mulls flew from his lips.

As you worked your way down his neck, pushing him down, he let you, pulling you closer and closer til your bare chests were touching, leaning into each other with your head in his neck.

You nibbled on the base of his neck.

He let out a whimper, hand curling into your side to ground himself.

"shh..." You whispered as he pressed closer, pushing you down to lay back against the pillows as he returned your trailing kisses. A slow and shy worship of your skin, warm hands kneading your sides in a desperate attempt to calm down and focus, not get too ahead of himself.

With a step of boldness his lips trailed lower, down your collarbone and between your breasts.

You could feel his breath hitch as kissed along your boobs, fingers digging into the sheets below.

Your hand found his ears, giving them a slight tug. "Jo." "Hmm?" He murmured, eyes still locked onto your chest despite being pulled away, he looked dazed.

"You're hard." Jo blinked, before he realized what you said was in fact true. With a blush he turned away, letting go of you to cover his lap. "I- I'm sorry- I just-" "Why are you apologizing?" You whispered back, taking hold of one of his hands interlocking your fingers. "It's fine... I'm glad you're enjoying it." He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking up at you sheepishly, a bashful smile on his beautiful face.

"Now can you stop hesitating and get over here?" You pulled him back down on top of you, him meeting you half way in a searing kiss.

Finally, finally, Jo was being bold, hands slipping under your thighs to bring them around his waist as his tongue wrapped around yours, choked noises rumbling deep in his throat as your hands slipped lower down his torso.

You grinned at the spit running down his chin when he pulled away, attaching his lips to your jaw, placing wet, open mouth kisses down your neck.

Jo let out a mull when one of your hands tugged his ear again, pushing his head lower as your other hand thumbed the waist band of his pants.

He stilled, mid suck to your neck.

"What're you-"

" 'want it.." You whispered in his ear as you slipped your hand past the waist band, brushing against the bulge he was trying to hide two minutes ago.

He flushed so hard you thought he'd die, his mouth hung open the second gave a good rub to his core.

"n-no-" he stuttered, hiding in your neck. "Shit..."

"what?" You whispered back, giving him another teasing tug.

Jo let out a whine, trying to bury himself deeper into your shoulder, "I'm close.."

You smiled softly, rubbing soft circles with your thumb against the wet spot on his boxers. "Already?"

"never done this before.." He murmured into your ear, hips jerking into your hand unconsciously.

You hummed, other hand tangling in his hair as you rubbed him with a firmer press.

Jo choked out a moan, mouth hung open on your shoulder, arms wrapping around you like he needed the comfort.

"does it feel good?"

He nodded immediately, babbling something under his breath.

"speak up.." You hummed into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He mulled, shivering against you as you kept rubbing him through his boxers. "close.."

"It's okay, jojo."

He whined at that, wrapping his lanky arms tighter around you, trying to keep you as close as possible like you could shield him from his own embarrassment and the overwhelming feeling of his lower stomach tightening and bubbling with a warmth he only got when you looked too good at hangouts with all the guys.

Your hand sped up, rubbing and rubbing, tugging against his warm dick from under his underwear.

Jo moaned, back arching into you a bit as he tried to resist the heat in his core. "Shit-"

He murmured your name, nails scratching into your back as he bucked back against your hand, eyes shut tight as he let out a final whine of ecstasy, vibrating with the high.

You could feel the dampness pool against your hand, sticky and warm as you rubbed up and down to ride out his high.

Jo shivered, catching his breath as he bucked against your hand a few more times as his high came down.

"I'm sorry.." He whispered once you both stilled.

"Why?"

"I didn't do it right." He frowned, still hiding in your shoulder as you slipped your hand out of his pants.

You shook your head, brushing some hair out of his face when he finally pulled away. "what? Don't say that. I liked it."

"but... I didn't get to make you feel good."

"Next time, jo."

His eyes doubled in size. Next time?

"...what?" Jo asked softly, hands fidgeting now.

You chuckled, cupping his cheek. "You're stuck with me, now."

He nodded, processing everything that happened. "Are you my girlfriend?" "Do you want me to be?"

Jo nodded with a sheepish grin, blushing at how good 'my girlfriend' sounded to him.

"Girlfriend..." He repeated before resting his head back on your shoulder. "I like that."

you've never been particularly lucky in love.

your family knew it, your friends knew it— it was like a flashing sign had been dangling over your head your entire life, prompting the weirdest, most socially and emotionally stunted people to invite you for drinks. maybe there was money involved, like you were the subject of a television show and whoever made the largest dent in your hope for humanity would make out like a bandit. that's the only thing that could have began to excuse the calamity that was your love life, because even you would sneeze on a stranger for a large sum; even you would sabotage a first date by ranking your exes for a new car. but the reality was that there were no cameras, no briefcases lined with stacks of cash hidden under a table somewhere. your dates were just bad, and you were just unlucky.

tonight was no different.

you should have known from the start that the date was doomed, but it took you much too long to realize that there was no point in seeing it through. for almost an hour, you had sat in a worn plastic restaurant booth, mortified by the turn the conversation had taken. the person across from you transformed on a dime into one of the top five worst conversationalists you had ever encountered. what started as lighthearted banter had quickly turned to a heated, one-sided argument about how people with your particular opinions on several, unrelated topics are the worst. you didn't know that someone could be so passionate about e-books and sprinkle varieties, especially enough to tank an entire first date.

you forked your food, silently, stomach turning inside out as your date waved their hands to grab your server's attention and then demanded that you pay the bill for both of your meals. the only thing worse than being walked on, insulted, and humiliated was letting it happen, which you did.

of course, you did. you weren't the confrontational type, a trait that usually meant you were screwed over in most situations; you took the middle seat in the car when your friends carpooled even though you felt trapped, lurked in the background at parties because you couldn't risk disappointing everyone by saying you were tired from work, and you've accidentally worked more volunteer events than you had ever wanted to because your small talk sounded a lot like interest. it wasn't even that you were a people pleaser— you just hated being perceived as the "bad guy," even if it meant sacrificing your own sanity.

even if it meant walking home alone in the rain, your wallet noticeably lighter after paying for your paperback-passionate date's eggplant risotto and coat weighing on your shoulders from absorbing most of the summer storm. the floor of your building's elevator was slick as you stepped out onto your floor, onto the worn and faded carpet that stretched the endless length of your hall. everything was heavy. your eyes, your heart, and your tongue in your mouth as you approached your apartment door and saw her standing anxiously outside of her own directly beside yours. your neighbor was an enigma to you, tall and elusive, like if bigfoot had fluffy, blonde hair and the softest voice ever recorded. you moved slowly as if any sudden movements would cause her to evaporate into a cloud of fog, as if she weren't physically stranded outside of her place until she found her key.

you finally reached your apartment and stood firmly in place, just in case your rain-soaked coat tried to take you to the ground when your knees inevitably gave out. she towered over you, even standing three feet apart, shoulders aligned like a step-ladder. your eyes began to hurt, strained from glancing sideways, careful not to let her see that you were in fact watching her every move. every shrill, metallic jingle, every plastic charm grating against the metal loop of her key ring— you caught it all, committed it to the part of your memory where you stored the few random facts you knew about her. and there were few.

first, there was the obvious; you knew her name: jo. sweet and brief, like a first, chaste kiss. jo moved into your apartment building five months ago, which you noticed not only because of the spontaneous, midnight ruckus that first night— who moves into a new place at two in the morning, anyway?— but because she knocked on your door the next morning and personally apologized for any inconvenience her settling in might have caused. and all you could do was slouch in the doorway, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, while she took up your entire doorway with a soft and radiant warmth. she was a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, and you had been left on the counter for at least a week.

and, then, there was the not-so-obvious, things only you would know from your unique experience as her neighbor: she was a guitarist. she was a bassist, to be exact. her apartment's previous tenet was a musician, too, only his passion was the recorder, and he only played at dawn. it was worse than sleeping in a chicken coop, the sharp timbre of the instrument more excruciating than if you had just impaled yourself with the blunt end of it. jo, however, was pleasantly proficient. wherever she went from dawn to dusk meant that she was only able to play in the dwindling hours of the night. full and smooth, the sound had pulsed through the shared wall as the sun tucked itself into the skyline. those first few nights were sleepless; it seemed like jo was playing just to keep busy. it was nothing new, just the same melody over and over, plucking the same progression until you imagined her slumped over with the bass guitar in her lap.

now, she practiced; she experimented and learned, and when she fucked it up, she tried again. and you awaited it every night like a television premiere. so, you knew a third thing, too: she was good with her hands.

you pushed that thought deep, deep down, but you could feel it bubbling back up as you watched her nimble, slender fingers flip through her keys like stiff pages of a freshly pressed novel. you inhaled deeply as you did the same, with much less elegance, of course.

"do you not own an umbrella?"

her voice was low, rumbling through your already pounding chest like she had just plucked the thickest string of her bass. it was a good question, since you were dripping warm rain water all over your welcome mat; your hair was plastered to the top of your head, and any aspect of your appearance that looked halfway decent for your date had been washed away, reduced to smudges and smears. you looked the way you felt, though, which made your answer all the more pathetic. you breathed an awkward laugh, "i do."

"are you, like," jo started, finally pushing her key into the lock, "afraid to use it?"

you never knew how much conversation was appropriate between acquaintances, especially when a part of you wanted to be much, much, much more. at what point was she no longer dissolving uncomfortable tension between two kinda-strangers and attempting authentic conversation? you had no idea. growing up, you were reserved and shy, although it felt less like introversion and more like fear; fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of making a fool of yourself, fear of being known and, thus, the potential for being misunderstood.

you kept it simple, if a little bit dishonest. you gulped and threw one quick glance jo's way, where she was slowly turning the key to await your answer. you debated actually giving her the full answer, that it wasn't raining when your walked to the restaurant and you had hoped to maybe catch a ride back to your dates place if everything finally went your way. obviously, from the fabric clinging to your arms, that didn't happen. you said, "i am." you felt like a robot, programmed to only say the most humiliating and boring phrases.

but jo didn't seem to mind. you could feel her eyes on the side of your face as you navigated your own key into the lock on your door. she was soft and sincere in an oversized sweatshirt, blonde hair falling in messy tufts over her shoulders. a small smile, barely different from her resting face, curved her lips upward, taut like tuned strings. she pushed her door open and started to step inside but hesitated, long legs stuttering in the threshold.

for a second, she looked like she were going to say something. maybe something funny, maybe something to turn your whole night around. instead, she gave you one final, polite smile and disappeared with the creak of a hinge.

saturday morning sunlight evaded you behind dark clouds; you would have done the same. nothing sounded more appealing following the previous night's disaster than staying in bed with the curtains drawn, keeping your eyes closed despite your mind's racing. the rain painted your windows in a glossy and disorienting sheen, hypnotic, convincing you with every swirling droplet to shove your feet back under the blankets.

but yuma would have killed you if you missed your weekly coffee date. again.

she was hunkered in her usual corner table when you arrived, sulking into the steam rising from her mug. she looked as though she had been abandoned, kicked to the curb and left to find her own way, despite euijoo sitting right next to her. although, euijoo was so obliviously invested in something on her phone that she didn't even notice you'd walked in. or that you'd ordered your favorite and pulled out a chair across from the two of them. her fingers swiped aimlessly, her hair tied neatly behind her in a contrastingly precise knot.

yuma, however, did notice you. she followed your path from the cafe's entrace, to the pastry counter, and all the way to the back of the chair where your fingers wrapped around the smooth wooden panel. she huffed, her breath puffing the hair that had fallen into her face up and away, "you know, it's courteous to send a text when you're gonna be late." she couldn't have been there for more than 15 minutes; her coffee was still hot.

"it's also courteous to cut me a little slack," you argued, tucking your umbrella into the space between your chair and the wall, "i had a rough night."

"yeah, you look like shit," yuma let the grin she had been suppressing since you sat down break loose in a mischievous curl. and just as quickly as you registered what she'd said, euijoo elbowed her deep in the ribs.

"yu," she scolded her, and yuma palmed at her now sensitive side with an exagerrated, pained expression. euijoo turned a kind eye toward you, "you look great… ish."

"wow, thanks," you scoffed, taking a cautious sip from your mug, "what would i do without you guys, seriously?"

for starters, you'd save a lot of money. you treasured your coffee dates, but yuma's favorite cafe was a bit pricey. it was delicious, but it was for that reason that she took every suggestion to try a different place so personally. she was intense, but you'd learned to predict her like the weather. only, you were better at predicting yuma's reactions than the actual weather, as demonstrated by last night's casual stroll in a downpour.

in many ways, yuma and euijoo learned how to predict you, too. you'd shared so much of yourself with them throughout your many years of being friends that they knew you like no one else; they knew you inside and out and something else in the middle. this also meant that they knew every detail of your life. every detail.

"i meant 'shit,' like, in a good way," yuma smoothed over her insult, like holding an ice pack on a severed limb, and she smirked, "like you had a really long night." and she winked, several times and in rapid succession. it really just looked like she was blinking.

euijoo clicked her phone off and placed it face down on the table between you, leaning into the conversation. she winked, too, "yeah, how 'rough' was it?"

and with the two of your closest friends staring at you, kind of, tucked into the corner of the overpriced and crowded cafe, you realized you had a choice; at first, the ritualistic meeting and bonding over your terrible dates was fun. it was good stress relief to laugh off some of the bizarre encounters you'd suffered through. your friends were very good at reassuring you, too, that you weren't the problem, that you were a freak magnet and not the freak. but, at some point, it became something you dreaded, like you'd forever be the weekend's entertainment. you felt like a spectacle: the single friend. so, you tossed the idea around in your head.

what if, just this once, you lied?

what if, just this once, you let them believe you went on a date that didn't end in you staring blankly at yourself in your bathroom mirror for three hours?

you gulped, and then you leapt.

"it wasn't rough at all, actually," you smoothed your hands down the front of your shirt, as if eliminating the wrinkles would make you seem more credible, "she was very sweet, and we had a great time."

euijoo and yuma's winking halted, both of their eyes blown as wide as they could go with their eyebrows pinched together, furrowed. they stared at you like that for what felt like a full minute, waiting for you to drop the hat. just kidding, you might have said, it fucking sucked! but you didn't— you held their uneasy gaze, even though every second was another penny tossed into the pit in the bottom of your stomach.

"so, it went well?" euijoo was the first to break the silence, with her tone genuinely bewildered, "nobody, like, made a scene? or insulted you? or- i don't know- died?"

if she only knew the truth, that all but one of those actually did happen, that you were left to pay the bill at a restaurant you didn't even like only to be stranded in the rain. if either of them knew the truth, it would've been the same routine as every saturday; you'd reenact the worst of it with euijoo as your understudy, and yuma would watch, astounded, like the camera in a mockumentary sitcom; you'd stalk the date's social media profiles and make assumptions about their life and friends and family just to make yourself feel better; you'd go home feeling worse than before.

so, you smiled, teeth bared like a caged animal, "it was the perfect date."

yuma leaned back in her chair, suspicion unfolding over her face. the crease in her brow ran deep and was obscured only faintly by the pillar of fading steam from her coffee. the air felt thick, only in the space between you, and damp, the sweat threatening to bead on the back of your neck. you never were a good liar. she sucked her teeth, "perfect, huh?"

"mhm."

"well, tell us about it!" euijoo urged and situated both of her elbows on the table, dropping her chin into her hands. her eyes were glazed over, expectant. yuma's were still hesitant. "please, spare no detail— i wanna know everything."

you hoped, in that moment, that all the nights spent dreaming about the perfect date would finally pay off. you spun a marvelous tale, one of flowers and shy glances, of pinkies brushing on the sidewalk. reservations were made and fell through, an error on your date's part, of course. you would never have been so careless, but you thought it was endearing that she was. you painted your date as disorganized but sweet, babbling on and off about hobbies and family. the conversation was enjoyable, and you made sure to note that your meal was unexpectedly delicious, since yuma knew you hated the restaurant you ended up at, that everything you'd ever ordered there was undercooked or absolutely charred. you wrapped it up in what you hoped was a neat, mostly true bow, "i paid for our overpriced meal, and we got totally soaked from the rain on the walk home."

euijoo's posture had melted into a slumped lean, turning her essentially into a lovesick puddle on the tabletop. she clapped her hands together in quiet, tiny bursts. "that sounds like a great time," she squealed, hushed in the quiet bustle of the cafe, "i'm so happy for you, and that's, like, the bare minimum of what a date should be, by the way."

but, yuma didn't seem convinced. her arms braced her chest, her brows still knitted tightly together, like everything would click if they touched. she had always been like this, skeptical and cautious. she never let a good thing pass by without asking a thousand questions first. gifting her anything came with an interview under a flourescent lamp, handcuffed to a chair. you felt the same burn, now, of harsh, white light as yuma stared into your eyes. she basically stared behind them, into your mind. she asked, "then what happened?"

"what?" you mentally tracked your story, re-weaving all the imaginary threads that you very well could have crossed and had no idea, "nothing else happened. we went home— that was it."

"there you go again," yuma pointed a finger, "home… singular."

shit, you thought. in your effort to remain somewhat honest, you had neglected the part of the fictional retelling where you walked your date home, where you ran into a convenience store and bought a cheap umbrella just to keep them dry. instead, you were too honest, revealing that you walked home alone, but, to yuma, it sounded like you brought someone with you. you knew what she was thinking, of course. you look like you had a really long night, she had said. and it would make sense for her to think that, regardless of how desperate it made you out to be that you would hook up with the only person to treat you like a human being in many, many months.

agreeing would only create more lies, more guilt, and, once again, you were never a good liar. the second yuma would ask for more details, you'd flounder and have to confess everything.

your thoughts jumped quickly— restaurant, rain, elevator, keys —and landed on one image from that morning: the umbrella, unfamiliar but well-loved, propped up on the wall beside your door as you hurried out, your own in your hand.

your thoughts jumped again, this time even quicker, and landed on one person.

"oh, yeah," you laughed, awkwardly, bouncing your palm off the side of your head to really show that you forgot an important detail, "she lives in my building. we're neighbors, actually."

yuma and euijoo sat up straight in their seats, gasping before exclaiming, in staggering harmony, "you went on a date with hot neighbor?"

"i thought that was rule number one of having a hot neighbor," yuma leaned in, clearing her throat and bringing her voice down to the previous volume, "not dating them. 'cause then it's awkward when you have to see them every day."

"wait," confused, euijoo glanced between the two of you, "i thought we didn't know anything about hot neighbor. i didn't know she even had a name, and you're going on dates with her?"

your friends had thankfully never met or even seen jo, thanks to her mysterious schedule. the three of them had never even been in the elevator together, and you'd kept a lot of what you'd gathered on her to yourself. she was your little secret, in some not-at-all creepy ways. 'hot neighbor' was good enough for you, as far as updating the group chat on why you were awake at three in the morning went. hot neighbor's being loud again, you would type, not nearly as inconvenienced as you sounded by jo's efforts to perfect a new bassline.

"oh, i thought i told you guys," you feigned ignorance, even shrugging it off before it became too obvious that you were spinning a very intricate, veyr fragile web of lies, "i found out her name is jo."

euijoo's confusion didn't dissipate as you expected, instead twisting into something else. she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes wandering aimlessly as she filtered through her brain. yuma glanced with concern between the two of you. you wished that everybody's eyebrows would unfurrow. somehow, your "perfect" date had become more puzzling than dates that actually required some brainpower, like the one where your date had to have their arm greased by zoo staff after getting it trapped in the enclosure bars. this was so mundane, so normal, by comparison, that even your eyebrows were knitted closely by the amount of questioning.

"jo…" euijoo rolled the name around on her tongue before meeting your gaze again, "do you have a photo?"

you had essentially tried to remain invisible to jo since she moved in. and for your own sanity, you'd tried to pretend she was invisible, too. for the first time, you opened instagram and typed in her name, unsure if she even had social media. it would fit the disappearing act she'd perfected in the months she'd been your neighbor. as you scrolled through the dozens of search results, your finger stilled over an account that was undeniably hers and flipped your phone around to show euijoo the results. her photos were messily curated, snapshots of things she loves, surely, and all of her selfies were hidden in the back halves of photo dumps, eclipsed by sunsets and birds at the park and freshly baked sweets.

"holy shit," euijoo breathed a laugh as she scrolled, carefully, through jo's pictures. one swipe, then another, until she met your eyes with a smirk tugging at her lips, "i know jo."

it would have been easier to tell the truth— every liar eventually came to this same conclusion. you had briefly weighed the possible consequences of your dishonesty, and none of them involved you standing outside jo's apartment. none of them were as humiliating, as humbling, as the way your wrist trembled when you lifted it, rearing your knuckles back to rap at the door. jo had went to sleep way later than you did; your body remembered the vibrations through the wall as your eyes fluttered closed for the last time, the tuned strings of her guitar humming well into midnight. was she even up? your face felt hot just thinking about her, hair tousled from sleep and shirt slipping off her shoulder. had she bothered to set an alarm, instead planning to be gently roused by the sun's warmth through the window you knew sat at just the right height to glare off any and every surface? it no longer mattered; you knocked three times.

three knocks for three lies. the first being that the date was good. it wasnt. the second being that the date was with jo. it wasnt. and the third being that the jo you supposedly went out with and the jo euijoo knew were two different people who looked very, very similar.

they weren't.

in fact, they were horrifically the same— the same fluffy blonde hair, soft and welcoming smile, and talent that you weren't exactly aware wasn't just a hobby.

"she plays bass in nico's band," euijoo had smiled, handing your phone back to you over the table, "you all remember nico, right?"

of course, you didn't remember nico. euijoo seemed to know everybody in ways you couldn't comprehend. you only knew her and yuma. and, now, jo, whose band was playing a show at a local venue later tonight. jo, whose show you'd made a big deal about at the table, looking offended when yuma had asked if you were going. "jo mentioned it last night," you had said, even thought jo didn't, and scoffed, "im obviously going."

you were obviously screwed.

standing, now, in front of jo's door, the wait felt almost as long as the dreary walk home the night before. you rarely felt as hopeless as you did then. every step as punctuated with a sinking pit in your chest, desperate to be filled. like a tomb. the fabricated version was, as expected, much more enjoyable, riddled with brushes of the hand when the sidewalk narrowed and ducking under awnings to avoid as much of the rain as possible and stolen glances in the elevator. you didn't realize how long you'd been waiting for something like that. anything like that. was it too much to ask for subtle romance? could the bar go any lower than a glance and a smile?

you also didn't realize how long you'd wished for the courage to knock on jo's door until the knob was twisting in its socket, the door creaking on its old hinges. the wooden frame captured her confused expression like a painting, trapping her in a moment that, unfortunately, revealed to you that you didn't wish hard enough for that courage. there weren't enough wishes in the world to give you the guts to stand tall, although she was much taller, in jo's doorway in the much-too-early hours of a saturday morning.

but here you were.

and here she was, pajama pants slung low on her hips and a t-shirt twisted sideways across her torso. her face was soft and slightly puffy from the sleep you had just pulled her from with your three obnoxiously entitled knocks. the crease that adorned her brow smoothed when she saw you, however, her expression quickly twisting from confused to concerned. jo flattened her palm over her sleep-wrecked blonde hair and adjusted the hem of her shirt with the other.

"is everything okay?" jo's voice was hoarse as she asked and not-so-subtly looked past you, shooting a glance down the corridor before meeting your shifty gaze. it took everything you had to keep eye contact, to not flicker your attention anywhere else but her. you looked like a lost puppy, even though your home was merely two steps to the left. "do you need something?"

"everything's fine," you laughed awkwardly, "kind of." your umbrella suddenly felt heavy in your grip. you'd rolled the panels flat and fastened it closed, but you couldn't help but feel like the constant blow of the ac down the hall would force it open and carry you away, like mary poppins. only mary poppins had a magical bag she could crawl into and disappear. you just had to stand there, shift your weight between your feet, and confess to jo that you messed up in a really, really, really embarrassing way. perhaps more embarrassing than anything you'd ever done before, and you had found yourself in some particularly horrifying situations. you cleared your throat, but your voice still came out lilted, like you were asking a question instead of proposing an idea, "i need a favor?"

"i can turn my amp down," jo offered, immediately, pointing her thumb behind her, "if its a noise issue. i thought it was kind of loud last night, anyway."

"no, no," you held up both hands, even the one holding the umbrella, "it's not that at all. i mean, it is kind of loud, but i don't mind."

in the same moment you realized that you had said too much at once, jo noticed it, too. she smirked, just a slight tug of her lips, and crossed her arms over her chest. her concern fizzled away, leaving only intrigue to ghost over her features. her eyebrows raised, "how can i help you, then?"

you debated lying again. you debated asking her to trade umbrellas, using the one she left out for you, which you couldn't think too hard about or you'd be much worse off, as a scapegoat. it sat idly in the corner of your vision, clouded now by jo's amused stature. she was quickly becoming less soft, the effects of her interrupted sleep wearing off and replacing every curve with a more familiar, sharp feature. her nose was elegantly angled, her eyes narrowing in on you as you turned your options over in your head, rotated them and analyzed every corner and edge.

no more lies. you decided this as you told her everything in more detail than necessary. you started with your history— how you had a pretty impressive streak of terrible dates, how you have two nosy friends who look forward to hearing about your terrible dates, how you had grown tired of being the punchline of every joke, how she was the last person you spoke to, how you panicked. and you told jo everything without stumbling once on your words, taking accountability for every choice, explaining your reasoning.

more shocking than any of the confidence you mustered up out of seemingly nowhere, jo didn't care. not in the way you expected, at least.

"and i wouldn't have said your name at all if i had known that euijoo knew you," you clarified, almost breathless from your extensive retelling of events but mostly from the way jo's eyes never left you as you spoke, "because now it's just a big mess, and i'm going to your show tonight, and i'm not really sure what to do with all of it."

jo, with her arms still crossed over her chest and the faint muscles shifting under her skin, leaned onto her doorframe. you anticipated anger or disbelief. you had played out this scenario on the walk home from the cafe, and jo was much more upset about this in your head. she had slammed the door in your face, broken her lease, and moved out the next day just so she didn't have to see you anymore. because who lies about something like that?

but jo didn't do any of that. instead, the other side of her lips tilted up, pulling her smirk into a full smile. she asked, "you're coming to the show?"

your stomach flipped; once when she smiled and twice when she ignored everything that you were sure would incite some kind of life-ruining guilt. you scrunched your brows together, "did you… hear what i said before that?"

jo nodded, "mhm."

"and you're not upset that i dragged you into my lie?"

"i feel really bad that you had to in the first place," she admitted, her smile faltering, "but i'm not upset. not at all." jo stood up straight, once again adjusting her shirt on her frame, this time pinching the shoulders and aligning the collar closer to her neck, which was slightly flushed. not unlike your own, only you felt your entire body burning, blood rushing to every exposed sliver of skin. she added, "i think it's kind of cute, actually."

"oh," you gulped, "thanks."

"i'll see you tonight, then?" jo quickly said, intercepting whatever awkwardness you were about to bring to the interaction. and when you nodded, jo slipped back inside, sparing you one last amused glance before pushing the door closed.

you released a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. the cool air swirled around your still burning skin, settling on your cheeks like post-rain fog. the umbrella was a bit lighter in your hand; you felt like, still, you might float away, if not for the anchoring weight of your heart low in your chest, beating heavy, reverberating.

if she hadn't moved in right next door, maybe you would have seen her, spared a fleeting glance that would've turned into several lingering ones, at the record store on the corner, flipping through albums in their crates with calloused fingers. maybe you would have bumped shoulders at the farmer's market and laughed as the peaches you'd been cradling bounced across the ground, bruising more and more the further they strayed from the two of you. or, maybe, she'd have been nursing a drink at your favorite karaoke bar, judging you for your poor sense of rhythm and off-key rendition of her favorite song. she'd have judged you until she couldn't anymore, until it became admiration of your (mostly sober) confidence to butcher any song that came your way.

one thing you knew for certain, however, was that you would have seen her here. in every timeline, every fateful turn of the earth, you would have been standing in the front of the crowd, watching through the settling, artifical fog and flashing, blazing hues of purple as jo did what she was made to do. her fingers slotted, more naturally than anything, between the frets. her guitar pressed against her hip, the strap nestled in the flat of her shoulder. her skin glinted like new stars, beads of sweat rolling down her neck and disappearing behind the collar of her shirt and leaving behind comet trails, glowing purple in the light. it was almost impossible to tell where jo ended and the instrument began; she was blurring with every phrase, every note change.

jo didn't just play the bass. she wielded it like a weapon. she was bass; she was sturdy, essential, constant. she was the most interesting person in the room, even as she swayed behind her bandmates and shook her hair from her eyes. and maybe, if you didn't know her, you would have been more distracted by nico's vocals or the drummer's twinkling hi-hats floating above the melody; you knew deep down that there was no possible way you'd have left without wanting to know her if you didn't.

you gripped your cup like it would fall out of your hands as the last song of the night started and a groovy, familiar sequence pulsed into the floor and up your legs. it was that same note progression that had been keeping you up for the last few weeks, the one jo played over and over every night until it became part of your dreams. you couldn't have imagined how perfect she looked playing it in front of you, how perfect she looked playing it flawlessly.

all the practice paid off, evidently, no matter how much sleep it costed you.

euijoo and yuma cheered and whooped next to you, and you must have looked like you really did go on a date with jo. you looked like you went on several dates with her, eyes glossy and a grin growing wider over your lips the longer she melted into the song. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yuma jab euijoo with her elbow, nodding toward you with that shit-eating grin you knew so well. she muttered something, also shit-eating, and clinked her half-empty beer can against euijoo's. a toast, just for you. you felt your smile waiver at the thought of how this might have been your final moments of peace. your final moments being perceived as honest, as well as a person capable of dating. it was nice to wear that mask for a while, but you were coming to terms with the possibility of having to take it off. your peace ended just as the final song was dwindling to a close and the only thing left was the low, lingering vibrations of jo's guitar.

how poetic, you thought, that the soundtrack to your humiliation was the same song that got you here in the first place.

the air felt thick around you as the crowd began to clear. many attendees flocked to the bar, more left the venue entirely in clusters, but you, euijoo, and yuma stood close to the stage, still. euijoo flipped through photos she took of nico on her digital camera, boasting about how cool her friend looked and patting herself on the back for the lighting settings she was experimenting with. yuma kept her attention on you, though, watching as you rocked anxiously on your heels. there wasn't a crowd to hide in anymore, no curtain to pull in front of you to shield your feelings from yuma, who had learned to read you like an open book over your years of friendship. you hoped that your nerves could be mistaken for jitters, for the anticipation of meeting your "date" and introducing her to your friends. you hoped that you could make that differentiation yourself; jo wasnt your date.

"there you are," jo's voice, unusually rough, pulled your attention from the floor, where you were committing every scuff to memory. she sauntered to your side in long, effortless strides— the kind of bravado only a rockstar could have. her eyes scanned yours, questioning in a way only you could recognize, as she got closer, begging you to trust her without knowing you already did. she extended her arms, stretching them out on either side of her chest: a hug. no, an embrace; a lover's embrace, warm, familiar. you mirrored her smile and slid your arms around her torso, exhaling a shaky breath as she caged you in, squeezing you close. you felt her voice before you heard it, felt it against your cheek on her chest, "my good luck charm, what'd you think?"

you couldn't help but giggle a little at the nickname. she was good at this. but so were you, pulling back to face her and realizing you didn't even have to pretend anymore. you smiled, "you were… incredible, jo. i've never seen anything quite like that before."

"like what?" she smirked, leaning down to meet your stare. her cheeks were flushed, still simmering from the adrenaline and the heat. you could feel it, standing so close to her, closer than you'd ever been. usually, your interactions with jo spanned a couple feet as you both unlocked your doors or were physically divided by a wall, barely interactions at all. so this, having your feet slotted between hers with your laces tangling, having her hands sliding down your arms in tantalizing strokes— it was making your face burn, too.

"impressive," you said, definitively. even though you'd heard the songs before, you'd only heard one strand of them. it was actually very cool to hear every element instead of just the one, and it was even cooler to see jo in her element. she was magnetic, addictive, even more so up close. she quirked her eyebrows up, as if she were genuinely surprised to hear the compliment.

she smiled and asked, only for you, "you really think so?"

"mhm," you nodded. then, you swallowed the nerves you'd been carrying all evening, the weight on your tongue, in a gulp that had to have been audible. your fingers trembled a bit as you lifted your hand and smoothed her hair behind her ear. her eyes scanned your face with an unspoken encouragement. your voice was soft, low, "i couldn't take my eyes off of you."

for a moment, the two of you were alone; everyone else had cleared the room, her bandmates had packed up their equipment, and the bartenders had put away every glass. for a moment, not even yuma or euijoo were watching as jo brought her fingertips from your side and straight to your chin, tilting your head up like she might kiss you. and for a moment, you wanted her to, even if it was just for show.

"jo!" euijoo exclaimed, startling the both of you as she finally pulled her face out of her camera. she skipped over and threw herself into her friend's arms and, consequently, shoved you out. jo spared you an apologetic glance, but you were laughing, entertained by your friend's unusually affectionate nature. the can in her hand was nearly empty. her voice was too sincere for the situation, "we are your biggest fans. dont ever forget that." she patted jo affirmingly on the shoulder, "or me. when you're super mega famous and stuff."

jo laughed, "understood, juju. you'll be the first i thank at any award show, okay?"

"that's what i like to hear," euijoo pulled back and held her chest, performatively moved by jo's promise. she wiped a fake tear from her cheek before dissolving into a fit of laughter, and jo wasn't too far behind. euijoo sighed, swirling the last swallow of liquid in her can as she felt for her camera in her pocket, "i'm gonna find nico, but it was great to see you." and euijoo spared you an obvious, painful-looking wink as she skipped away.

you suddenly felt the weight return, settling on your tongue, cementing your feet to the floor. yuma's eyes jumped from you to jo and back to you, searching, scanning. she collected information and filed it away, all behind a usually stoic expression. this time, however, she wore a smile, a glint of something satisfied wavering in her eyes.

"so," yuma's voice was lilted, carrying like treble, "jo, how'd you two meet?"

it was a test, of course. you knew this would happen, planned for it, even. yuma hadn't believed you in the cafe, and you knew she wouldn't stop until she could confirm or deny your story for herself. luckily, you told jo everything, in almost identical detail to what you told euijoo and yuma, which was a humiliating consequence of having daydreamed so much about what you wanted from a date. the flaw in your story was that you failed to account for jo living in your building. it was the weakest thread. you prayed that jo remembered her lines. just say we met at the bookstore, you had told her, i'm always there, so it won't be unbelievable.

jo smiled to herself, "well, we're neighbors," she slung her arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side, "but it was funny that we ran into each other at the little bookshop— what's it called? Booked n' Busy?"

"Booked n' Busy," you confirmed, relief washing over you.

but jo kept going beyond what you had told her to say.

"she was holding two books, and i asked if she wanted some help choosing which to buy," jo breathed a laugh, as if she had actually been there. she smiled as if it had happened at all. "and i'm no bookworm, but she was buried inside the covers, reading the first few pages of each like she wasn't standing in the middle of the aisle."

yuma crossed her arms again, watching the way jo's eyes never flickered from your face as she spoke. she asked, "which book did you pick for her?"

"neither," jo squeezed your shoulder, "she had already read both of them."

it was your turn to laugh. if you'd have scripted that, you would have added something quippy about limited edition covers or how books deserve to be read more than once, but you were so caught off guard by the way jo had improvised such a sweet anecdote. you were surprised by how real it seemed, how endearing she had made you, how enamored she sounded as she relived it. you wondered if jo had spent her nights dreaming of the perfect date, too. part of you wondered if you were a stand-in or if you had been the main character of that story all along. it was so natural to cover your face, to hide your burning cheeks as you laughed softly.

"typical," yuma rolled her eyes, "she likes what she likes."

"i really do," you confirmed, leaning your head against jo. the implication made your heart jump, and you let it. for realism, you thought. she wasn't just your hot neighbor anymore, but you recognized that she hadn't been just anything for a while. you admired her passion, her kindness, her humor. and, now, you admired her willingness to stick out a potentially uncomfortable situation to help a near-stranger out. she was selfless, and it made your stomach flip.

yuma paused a beat, watching the way jo smiled down at you and you didn't even know it. she sighed, obviously exhausted by the show and from watching you and jo fawn over each other a little too convincingly, "i'm gonna find euijoo and head out. you coming?"

you stood up straight, smoothing your palms over your clothes, "oh, yeah. i'll-"

"i can take you," jo offered, her arm still draped behind you, "i live pretty close by."

she was being serious. if nothing else, jo was genuinely kind. you lied, roped her into it, and, now, she was offering you a ride home. and instead of heading back with your two closest friends, you accepted her offer, nodding and slinking back into her while yuma scrambled to find euijoo backstage. you lingered around for the next half hour, merely observing as jo unplugged amps and pushed equipment around. you had offered to help, but she insisted that you sit and look pretty while she packed everything away with her bandmates.

it surprised you that it didn't feel awkward. all around, jo was taking this very well. even when you told her about the lie and how you needed her help, all she seemed to care about was that you were coming to the show. was it a numbers thing? did they have a quota to meet to be able to continue to play at the venue, like a set number of attendees that you personally helped them reach?

you expected some kind of debt to pay. it would only be right for you to help jo out in some way in the future, and you would without a second thought. if she needed furniture moved, you were right next door and pretty skilled with a set of sliders. if she needed groceries, you went every week; you'd even buy her produce for the next month or more if she asked. there were few things jo could ask of you that, in the moment, you wouldn't do.

"what are you doing tomorrow?" jo's voice jolted you from your trance. and the timing was perfect! tomorrow, you were free for a plethora of favor-related activities. it was the ideal time to move a couch or pick the ripest avocados.

"nothing," you answered, "why?"

when you looked up, jo was swimming in an oversized zip-up. her hair was fully dried, no longer damp from the performance. she looked impossibly cute while towering over you as you sat on the stage steps. her guitar case was strapped to her back, and she fidgeted with the band across her chest. jo was… nervous? she didn't show it otherwise, her voice still strong, feet planted firmly before you. but her fingers, calloused and adept, wandered down the case's strap as she worked up what you thought was an endless supply of courage.

"i'm gonna take you on a date," jo said, smiling. she was no longer mysterious, no longer unattainable. you worried for a second that she pitied you, that voice in your head that kept you reserved urging you to deny her before it was too late. but then she reached forward and grabbed your wrist with a shaking, vulnerable hand, "a real date." she lined your fingers up and slotted hers between yours, the fit so natural that it almost took your breath away. "and then we can tell yuma and euijoo how perfect it was."

maybe you could be lucky in love, after all.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@jocochipcookie @girleuijoo @bubbletsworld @7yataki @xionvlog

@luv4jaeyun @minhosimthings @eunyih @euijooswife @doyoueverthinkofrose

@kp0pst4rr @cherryydab @heesoulnotes @nctspersonaltherapist @yuversi

@s3ungh4nsgf @luperque @pytlune @d3adg1rlie @strawberory

@bloomedberry @lunenet @yuyuppie @euijooswife @yuyudai

you fall back onto the bed, fingers tangling in jake’s hair as he makes a humming sound against you, the vibrations sends sparks up your spine.

jake is good at this, always has been, but tonight he’s showing off. his tongue traces slow circles around you before flicking at your opening and dragging up, seeking out the place where you need him most.

“oh”, you whine. “oh fuck.”

“the clitoris”, he says against you, pulling his head back enough to meet your gaze, eyes becoming glossy as if he wants something more. “did you know it has over eight thousand nerve endings? the most of any part of the human body.”

“jake.” you threaten, fingers finding his temple as he continues to suck gently on your clit, his other hand splayed over the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“its educational,” he teases.

you laugh, a high pitched giggle that turns into a moan when jake sucks your clit into his mouth. your hips buck upwards as he braces himself over you.

“you’re such a nerd,” you manage to say through your moans.

“you are dating a nerd,” he says against your skin. “you knew what you were getting into.”

jake eases two fingers into you as you groan, your head falling back. he uses the stretch of his fingers to find the place deep inside you that makes your whole body twitch. his fingers are long and beautifully angled, curling in just the right way to send another pulse of sensation through you.

“see?” he murmurs, his mouth pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “angles and vectors, all geometry.”

“shut up,” you gasp, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you try to catch your breath. “ah— jake!”

“the g-spot is actually part of the clitoral structure,” he says, his fingers sliding in and out as his mouth finds your core again. “it all connects.”

“jake, i swear—”

“did you know that the clitoris is shaped like a wishbone?” he asks, tracing slow patterns along you with his tongue, working you over from bottom to top. you forget what you were about to say when he begins rolling his tongue over your clit in fast, shallow strokes.

you are so close, already writhing, and jake knows it, he always knows it. he knows your body the way he knows his textbooks, every little sound and reaction to a chapter he memorizes with devotion.

“you’re gonna come for me, baby?”

jake asks, his voice thick with something between amusement and need as his tongue skates over your thigh. “on my face? are you really going to do it? let’s test it, shall we?”

“your— fuck, glasses—!”

“forget the glasses.”

they are completely fogged over now, all opaque. its absurd, really, the way his tongue flicks over you in short bursts while his fingers curl inside you, making you dizzy with need. you can barely focus on what he says next.

“take them off,” you whine, practically begging. “jake— ”

“cant, im too busy recalling the theory of..” he says, practically purring. you find yourself laughing and whimpering at the same time.

“that doesnt even— thats not how it—”

“maybe physics isnt my strongest subject.” jake sighs dramatically before his tongue licks insistently at your folds, his fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. he manages to ignore the fog on his glasses long enough for you to climax, shuddering and whimpering his name as your thighs shake on either side of his head. jake hums against your skin.

“come on, baby,” he groans, voice rough. “let me taste it. let me have it.”

“ah— jake!”

“i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

your orgasm rolls over you, until you are gasping your release into the air, your back arching violently. your fingers dig into jakes scalp, his hair splayed out on either side of your hips. jake licks at you determinedly until your whimpers die down, your body limp, exhausted.

you push his head away weakly.

jake grins, finally lifting himself off of you, his chin glistening. he peeks up at you, the lenses blurred with condensation.

“see?” he says, sliding them up his nose. “perfectly functional.”

“you can’t see a thing.” you scoff.

“i can see enough, princess.”

jake leans over you, his head hovering just above your torso as he peppering kisses all over your body. you taste yourself on his lips when his glasses press against your cheek, warm and fuzzy.

you lift his head by the back of his skull, kissing him thoroughly before sliding his glasses off his face.

“hey,” he whines, blinking up at you. his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks. jake’s face is softer without the frames.

“i was going for a look.” he mumbles softly.

you raise your eyebrows, “the look was clouded nerd who cant see.”

“hey, that’s a classic aesthetic!”

you laugh, pulling him down on top of you. jake melts against you, kissing your collarbone, his fingers finding the sensitive spot at the juncture of your thigh and hip.

“i could go again,” he murmurs, voice heavy with intent. “we could run another trial. for science.”

“for science,” you repeat, laughing when jake’s fingers push into you once more, coaxing another moan from your lips as his glasses sit on the nightstand, forgotten.

jo has seen you at your worst over and over again.

the first time you met, you were walking up and down the stairwell knocking on every door until someone opened up.

“hi,” you start, out of breath from all the flights climbed. “sorry to bug you. i’m locked out of my apartment and i was wondering if i could use your fire escape to break into it.”

he blinks back at you before nodding and holding up his finger to tell you to wait. he shuts the door in your face without a word.

you press your ear to the door and listen in, hearing the shifting around of furniture on the floor before the footsteps approach again.

you make sure to back away before he can realize you’re being nosy.

“i’m sorry,” you start, as he leads you down the long hallway of the apartment that looks like an exact copy of yours. “my roommates don’t like me, so they weren’t gonna come home on a saturday night to let me in. but they are chain smokers, so our living room window is always open. maybe i shouldn’t have told you that. please don’t murder me.”

he laughs softly, the only sound he’s uttered to you since he first opened his front door.

while the layout of his unit is identical, the vibe is completely different. there's frames of artwork hanging on the walls and instead of using the built-in ceiling fluorescents, everything is lit entirely by warm paper-lamps.

you realize how sterile the place you call home feels in comparison.

when you reach his living room, your brain puts together the sounds from earlier with the large wooden easel that's been moved away from the window, holding a canvas that's not yet finished.

"you're an artist," you think out loud. "that's nice. i always wanted to try to be a starving artist in the city. i mean, i'm sure you aren't starving. like, some of this stuff—all of it, really, it's really good. you're talented. and i'm rambling. i should just climb out of your window, shouldn't i?"

you look over at him, expecting the meanest frown you've ever seen. instead, he's smiling. blushing, too.

"you think they're good?" he asks, rubbing his neck. "i don't really show people."

"they're amazing," you muse, pointing at one of the pieces on the wall behind him. "i like the one of the dog."

he turns around, and then back to you. "that's a horse."

"oh. fuck."

"i'm just kidding. it's a dog."

you stare at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. the quiet boy has a sense of humor.

"do you have roommates?" you ask him.

"no."

"generational wealth?" you know how much a third of one of these apartments cost. you can't imagine paying for the entire thing on your own.

"i have a job," he laughs. "i model."

your mouth goes dry as you squint a bit harder in the low light. he does have a shockingly symmetrical face. and he's tall. like, really tall.

your crisis of being locked out must have distracted you at first, but now you're hyperaware of how good looking he actually is.

"that tracks," you nod, suddenly feeling shy. "i should go now."

"the window is unlocked. i can push it open for you, though."

"i got it," you say, a bit too quickly. and then he watches you struggle for all of ten seconds before coming up beside you to open it without any effort.

"good luck," he says softly. "see you around."

"see you," you smile, before climbing onto the fire escape and heading up the ladder to your floor.

thankfully, your living room window is open like always, and you crawl inside like a burglar.

you spend the entire night thinking about how you're going to thank him before realizing that you never even exchanged names.

after a week of stewing over whether or not to knock on his door again, you decide to gather your courage and bake a loaf of banana bread.

when you knock, you hope and pray that he's not home. and then he opens the door.

"hi, again," he smiles that annoyingly perfect smile. "glad to see you survived."

"i made this for you," you say, holding the pan out while staring at the floor. "to say thank you. for letting me use your fire escape. it's banana bread. no nuts, in case you're allergic. i guess i didn’t consider a gluten allergy. or a banana one. fuck."

"i like banana bread," he says, taking the pan from you. "this is kind of a lot, though."

"i'm sorry. you don't have to eat all of it. you don't have to eat any of it, really. you could just take the entire thing and throw it away, pan and all, if you wanted to."

"i'll eat it."

you stare at him, afraid if you open your mouth you'll just keep making things worse.

"do you want some too?" he asks. "if you have time."

"i have time."

that afternoon, you learn that his name is jo, he's from japan, and has an older brother. he has a super cute cat named mint. he moved to the city because he got scouted to model, and it paid well, so he kind of just kept up with it because it gives him lots of time to work on his art.

you tell him about how your roommates are two girls who have been friends since childhood and how they're really passive aggressive because they don't like being asked to wash their dishes.

"you're always welcome to come hang out with me if they're bothering you," he says quietly. "if you want to. i don't mind."

"i'd like that," you smile.

and just like that, the two of you spend all of your free time binging TV shows, ordering takeout, and ranting about your work days. sometimes, you just sit on jo's couch and watch him sketch or paint.

mostly, it's you talking and him listening.

it becomes a routine for the two of you.

"i've never seen you outside," you laugh one saturday morning, watching him mix gouache. "how do i know you're not a vampire?"

"i'd rather be a werewolf," he replies, concentrating on making the perfect shade of blue. "and you've seen me during a full moon."

"i think you'd look pretty in the sunlight," you say, snuggling into mint's fur. your words catch jo off guard, and he almost drops his palette knife.

mint wriggles free, and you realize that you've said something that you had meant to keep as an inside thought.

the thing is, jo knows that he's handsome. he's built his entire career on how he looks. but he's never heard you say anything about it, until now.

"we can go outside," he says, setting his tools down and taking off his smock.

you spend the day walking around the city, buying pastries and matcha lattes and window shopping. eventually, you pass by a small art gallery and drag jo inside, and his entire face turns red when you tell the owner that he's an artist.

still, jo takes his business card and places it carefully inside his wallet.

the two of you end up in the park after the sun has set, on a bench watching rats scurry across the pavement.

"i feel really bad for pigeons," you frown. "like, we had them employed for so long and then we just abandoned them when we didn't need them to carry little messages around anymore. and now everybody just thinks they're dirty and throws crumbs at them."

"you know what we’re looking at are rats, right?" he laughs softly, rubbing his hand on your head to cheer you up. "maybe we should get your eyes checked."

"yeah, but they're all treated the same. and pigeons don't even know how to make nests! that's how domesticated they were. like, imagine if mint had to start living outside."

"mint is very spoiled," jo nods. "are you ready to head home?"

home. you know he doesn't mean it the way it sounds, as if you've built a life together. still, it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

when you say goodnight in the stairwell, a small part of you wishes you could spend the night with him, if only to see if he's just as pretty when he wakes up in the morning.

the first time you see jo in model mode is when you spot him on the cover of a magazine, with his hair pushed back and dressed in designer clothes. he looks so different compared to your version of him, who's usually wearing something simple and covered in ink or paint.

you immediately buy a copy and send him a selfie of you holding it.

he thumbs down the image and replies: i knew you'd find it.

you reply back with a string of cute emojis: i didn't know i was best friends with a celebrity!!!

he reacts to that one with a heart.

on days that you're too hyper to just sit and watch, jo gives you a sketchbook of your own. you're not bad at drawing, but you're certainly not good either.

"how's this?" you ask, turning the paper to him.

"is that supposed to be me?" he holds in a laugh, walking closer to get a better look. it definitely has... a face and hair. the only thing that really screams jo is the fact that you've drawn the ears bigger than the average person's.

"don't make fun of me," you pout. "i worked really hard on it."

"it's good," he smiles. "can i have it?"

"you want it?"

"mhmm," he hums. "i'll hang it up."

you happily rip the drawing from the sketchbook and hand it to him, satisfied with your stint as an artist.

the next time you hang out, he's already framed it and put it on his bedroom wall, right above his nightstand.

a week later, you're storming into his apartment in a bad mood.

"i just went on the worst date ever," you groan, plopping onto his couch and snatching up mint before he can run away.

"i didn't know you were dating," he says, trying to keep his voice even and calm. it's his way of asking: how long has this been going on without me knowing?

"i'm not," you cross your arms. "it was a first and last date. i don't even know why i did it. he came into work and he seemed nice enough and i wanted to prove to myself that someone could still want me because god knows the last time someone wanted me."

the words "i want you" are stuck in jo's throat, and all he can do is stare at you with a frown on his face.

instead, he takes the easy route. "do you want to watch love is blind?"

and instantly, you're happy again, and he's ordering your usual from the chinese restaurant on the corner.

your mouth is full of lo mein when you decide that you're finally ready to recount the horrors of what happened.

"he kept cutting me off," you say, exasperated at the memory. "right in the middle of my rant about the donner party. and then he had the audacity talk about his job at a bank. i don't care about banks! i want to talk about survival cannibalism!"

"you can talk about survival cannibalism with me" he smiles, passing you a napkin for the sauce on your lip.

"i can talk about anything with you," you counter. "you know, you're the only friend i have who just lets me talk. sometimes i feel bad."

"why?" he seems genuinely confused, as if he can't imagine ever not wanting to hear what you have to say.

"because i talk a lot," you shrug, stealing a piece of his chicken without asking.

"i like it," he says, placing a few more pieces onto your plate.

"and that's why you're my favorite person."

you feel like you’ve truly hit rock bottom when the roommate that you share a wall with gets a boyfriend.

“he’s here all the time,” you complain. “and they both snore.”

jo can tell by the way your eyes are red that you haven’t been sleeping well.

“you can sleep here if you need to,” he offers.

“i’m not in the mood for a nap right now,” you huff. “i have four shots of espresso in my system.”

“i meant that you can spend the night.”

“oh."

“it’s quiet.”

“it is,” you nod, considering the proposition.

“you can sleep in my bed.”

“where will you sleep?” you frown.

“the couch.”

you laugh. jo has three rooms all to himself and he doesn’t even have a guest bed, just oversized canvases and gifted clothes.

in the middle of the night, you toss and turn in jo’s sheets, which smell exactly like him. but it’s cold even though the air isn’t on, and you know he’s probably too big for the couch anyway.

you sneak up on him in the living room, curled up onto the cushions and somehow looking peaceful as ever.

“jo,” you gently shake his shoulder. his eyes flutter awake. “i’m cold.”

“do you need another blanket?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“well… could you just join me?”

“i can do that.” he’s too tired to overthink things.

you smile and he follows you back to his bedroom, as if you’re the one who lives there and he’s the guest.

“which side of the bed do you want?” you ask.

“either is fine,” he replies, trying not to seem too eager to sleep next to you.

you let him take the side next to the wall and crawl in next to him.

he’s warm, just like you expected. you curl into him like you’ve done it a million times, making sure to leave a good amount of space in between the two of you.

before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

you wake up tangled together, your head on his chest and his arm around your waist.

for once, you’re speechless. you don’t even really remember inviting him into bed last night, but here he is, holding you and looking just as pretty as you imagined he would in the morning.

his hair is messy and his face is so relaxed, that the thought of waking him up makes you feel bad.

you try to slip away, but he pulls you in closer and tighter, mumbling something in japanese that you don’t understand.

so, you let yourself fall back asleep for just five more minutes.

jo's eyes open in the middle of you trying to carefully peel his hand from your waist. when he realizes what's going on, he immediately pulls back. "sorry."

"no, it's okay," you say immediately.

"i move around a lot when i sleep," he replies, his face red.

"me too," you lie in an attempt to make him feel better. it's much easier than telling him that you liked it. "i should go back to my actual apartment now."

jo nods and you leave him cuddled up in his bedsheets, making sure to close the front door quietly on your way out.

after you're gone, he covers his face with his hands and lets out a sigh, worried he's made you uncomfortable. he has no idea that you're smiling ear to ear when you climb back into your own bed.

things go on like usual for the two of you. eating takeout, watching movies. you even go grocery shopping one night when you complain you've been spending too much money ordering food.

when the vegetables are being misted as the two of you pick out lettuce, you feel cold, and suddenly you remember how warm jo was when you called him into bed with you.

you miss the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist.

meanwhile, jo is worried by how withdrawn you've seemed lately, although it's mostly all in his head.

a few days later, he brings you to set with him after you've spent weeks begging for a more comprehensive look at his life as a model.

everybody is really nice, and gorgeous, and you watch as he gets his hair and makeup done. he falls asleep in the chair. you quietly snap pictures of him before he wakes back up.

they have him paired up with an equally gorgeous girl, and for once, jo doesn't seem shy. he laughs in between shots and holds her waist and they spend a couple minutes just gazing into each other's eyes.

these are the kinds of girls he sees every day, you think to yourself. you recognize now that you could never compete, and that he probably only held you because he was asleep.

you have no idea that the reason he's so comfortable with the women that he works with is because they don't matter to him the way you do.

every time he brushes his knee against yours, or your fingers touch for a second, it drives him crazy. sometimes, he can barely look at you without feeling his face turn hot and his ears red.

it's a miracle he's able to speak to you at all, let alone spend all of his free time with you, but he's really glad you knocked on his door all that time ago.

he wants so badly to be able to say how much you mean to him. instead, he notices how quiet you are on the subway ride home, and how your eyes don't quite meet his when you say goodbye.

after you've gone up the stairs, jo makes himself a promise—if he can't tell you how he feels, then he'll just have to show you.

he makes a sacrifice without realizing it, telling you he's busy more often and shutting himself away in his studio.

weeks go by with the two of you barely seeing each other, until one day, jo is the one knocking on your door.

"hi," he says, nervous as if you aren't best friends. "this is for you."

he hands you a small envelope, sealed with wax.

"should i open it now?" you ask him, running your fingers over the embossing.

he nods, and you do your best to open it without ruining it.

you pull out a small card, the details on it carefully written by hand.

it's an invitation to a gallery opening, for jo. you realize now what he's been hiding from you for the past few weeks.

"can you come?" he asks, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

you look up at him, smiling. "i wouldn't miss it for the world."

in the days leading up to the exhibition, things between you and jo slowly return to normal, although you feel more anxious around him than usual.

you can't quite put your finger on it, but something about him seems different. you're both excited and scared to see if his exhibition will help you solve the mystery.

when you show up outside the gallery, jo is already waiting for you at the door. the lights are still dim and nobody else seems to be waiting to come inside.

"am i early?" you ask, as he leads you toward the back.

"by an hour," he answers.

"oh. did you do that on purpose? am i here to help you set up?"

"everything's ready," he says, his voice small. his hands are shaking.

"you're nervous," you say, walking over to hold his hands and steady them. "it's going to go well, jo."

"i know," he gulps. his eyes are glossy. you've never seen him like this before. "i know."

"i believe in you." you smile and smooth his collar before fixing a stray piece of hair on his forehead.

"can i show you around?" he asks, and you nod, following him.

"this is the first one i did," he says, pointing at an empty park bench depicted in watercolors. "i, uh, wanted to play around with light."

"it looks like the one we usually sit on," you observe. "but i guess all benches look the same, huh?"

jo worries that maybe he's been too subtle with his message. still, he shakes it off and leads you to the next painting.

it's of two mismatched coffee mugs sitting on a kitchen table, and you recognize them as the ones from jo's apartment.

you patiently wait for him to give an explanation on the piece, but instead, he's staring at the floor.

"jo?" you ask softly. "is everything okay?"

"i can't do this," he mutters.

"the opening?"

“no.” jo shakes his head. he looks at you, realizing how unfair he's been asking you to figure out his feelings just from context clues.

"i love you," he blurts out. "i was going to walk you around the gallery and show you all of these things i painted about how i see the world whenever you're with me and it was supposed to be super romantic but i got really nervous and i—"

you stop him with a kiss, standing fully on your tip toes to reach him.

when you pull away, he looks shocked.

"i never thought i'd ever have to tell you to stop talking," you laugh.

jo laughs too.

“wanna finish showing me around?” you ask, trying to keep yourself from smiling too hard.

“no,” jo says, before leaning down to kiss you again.

when he pulls away, you almost can’t believe that this is actually happening.

“so, uh,” he starts, shy again. “does that mean you feel the same way?”

“mhmm,” you hum. jo grins ear to ear.

“do you wanna move in with me?” he asks, catching you off guard. “not today! i mean, you could move in today if you wanted. i just meant no rush. you basically already live there, and i don’t plan on ever letting you go, unless you want to leave me at any point but please don’t. like, it could be practical. you could save on—“

“jo,” you interrupt him, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his hair. “shut up and keep kissing me.”

he doesn't need to be told twice.