Ditsy and Dorky

It had been about two weeks since the whole thing in the shed. You’d made it back down the mountain a few days after getting locked in, and you hadn’t seen Hyunjin since.

Christmas came and went without much fuss between any of you. You’d all done your usual early gift exchange—low-key, a movie night the day before—so everyone could spend the actual holiday with their families.

The week after that, you were off campus, back at your family’s place with Felix since his flight back from Australia landed before the semester started up again. You hadn’t really texted Hyunjin during that time. Part of you was too unsure to reach out—and, thankfully, he hadn’t either.

Now, on the first day back in classes, you've barely had time to think about the guy. Gathering syllabuses, supplies, and finding your new classrooms had taken up your entire day. Not to mention, your energy as well. 

“I forgot how heavy sketchbooks are…” you mumble to yourself, sighing as you sag into your desk. One of the only classes that hadn’t changed with the semester—Illustration—you hum at the feeling of your familiar desk.  

Unfortunately, this class is also the only one to have an assignment due tomorrow. Concept sketches. Your professor thought it would be beneficial for you all to do concept sketches of where you want to be by the end of this semester—perhaps that meant being more social, or more conservative, or just the same—it just had to be realistically obtainable. 

You let out a deep sigh as you will yourself to start taking out some supplies from your bag. Sketchpads, pencil cases, eraser sets. You’re digging in your backpack for your laptop—conceptualizing your work in collages was one of your favorite things to do—when a voice interrupts your quiet ambiance. 

“Someone’s getting an early start on the homework,” Hyunjin’s voice breaks through the silence, his tone so chipper you can almost hear the grin on his face. 

You give him a quick glance before you return to tugging your laptop out of your bag. He drags his feet closer to your desk, his bag hanging from his hand, swinging as he makes his way closer to you. He leans against your desk, making the wood creak ever so slightly under his weight. 

You hear the grazing of fingers against paper and look up to see what Hyunjin could be doing, only to see him tracing along one of your sketchbook pages. “What’re you—” your words catch in your throat as you shove his hand away from the book and slam it closed, fighting off the blush threatening to fill your cheeks, “That’s old.”

Hyunjin’s smile doesn’t waiver, instead it grows as he trains his gaze on you. “Right… either way, thanks for making me look so handsome.” You shake your head, a small chuckle leaving from your lips at his words. Hyunjin stands there for another awkward second, before shoving his hands into his pockets and letting out a nervous breath. “So… there’s this like, underground concert this weekend…”

“You? Underground?” You laugh a bit, eyebrows raised in confusion at him, despite your joking tone. You knew Hyunjin always had an affinity for underappreciated art, but with his more updated taste, you weren’t sure that part of him had survived. 

“Yes, underground,” he glares at you, his smile still present on his lips. “would you go with me?”

You lick your lips, thinking it over. You had agreed to give Hyunjin some sort of chance, and be more civil with him… but you didn’t want to seem too forgiving too quickly. “I don’t know…”

He almost seems to scramble to convince you, his eyes pleading as he looks for the right words. “Okay, I get it if you don’t want to, but if you do go and you don’t like it, I’ll take you to do whatever you want. Whether you want food, or to go home, whatever it is. Just give it a chance, please?”

Hope rises in his chest at your consideration. 

“I’ll go,” you pause for a minute, giving him an analytical look. He only seems to look any sort of worried when your expression morphs into a more mischievous one. “but only if Jisung can come too.”

He seems to stiffen up a bit at that, his jaw dropping for only a second before he picks it back up and you can see it clenching from inside his mouth. The two of you have a silent moment that almost seems like a battle of sorts, but it only lasts a few seconds until he gives in, slouching in defeat. “Okay.”

“Well don’t sound too thrilled now,” you tease, seeing the visible disappointment on his face that he does his best to cover up. 

Even if you hadn’t seen Hyunjin much since that night, he had still put some effort into reconciliation. You hadn’t texted Hyunjin much since then, sure, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been texting you. Asking about your day, doing his best to drag you to a few parties, even sending you posts on social media. You just hadn’t been very reciprocal with your responses. You ignored as many posts as possible, dodged every gathering he had invited you to, and gave him curt answers to his questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him—you did to a degree, at least—but you didn’t really know how anymore. This level of friendship wasn’t something you could just fall back into, and you didn’t feel like trying too hard to find your way back to it. Hounestly, you’re surprised to say yes even today. Maybe it was the fact that you could already see the future stress you’d be feeling once this week ended, or maybe it was because he looked even more incredible after you hadn’t seen him in over a week, but whatever it was, you hope you don’t regret your decision.

——

You were right. 

The week had absolutely drained you, and while you aren’t a party person, some good music and alcohol could really lift your spirits right now. 

You and Jisung discuss your classes together this semester, mainly the odds that you two would wind up in the same Lit class considering Jisung’s interpretations of classic novels and poetry were nowhere near yours in terms of anything, oblivious to the unamused and possibly regretful frown on Hyunjin’s lips. Sure, you were sitting next to him and Jisung was in the backseat, but the way you were practically playing twister to speak to Jisung made him wish he had just called the whole thing off. 

Luckily for him, he makes it out of his car before Jisung has the chance to unbuckle his seatbelt, jogging around the side and opening your door in a manner that makes you give him a look. “I guess chivalry isn’t completely dead,” you don’t fail to see his playful eye roll. Before you know it, he grabs your hand in his, and is tugging you inside the bar, ignoring jisungs quiet pleas to wait for him—at least, until you give him a warning glare. 

The room is bright and dark all at the same time. There’s hardly any regular lighting, most of it coming from glow sticks, cheap lasers, or strobing lights that you weren’t really sure where they came from. Yet somehow, the actual bar area itself was dim, and you found yourself drifting to it to sit at one of the cocktail tables before you knew it. 

“Oh, don’t be boring,” Hyunjin sighs when he sees how you’ve settled yourself. He had left for one minute to get you some drinks, and next thing he knows you’ve already set up camp away from the dance floor. “I brought you to dance!”

You wave him off, gesturing to Jisung to pull up another barstool. “I’ll join you later… maybe. I need a minute to adjust first.”

Hyunjin doesn’t give Jisung a moment to talk, shaking his head at you before dancing his way into the crowd. As it turns out, the edm vibe wasn’t meant to last the entire night, and after a few more tracks the dj introduced a band you’ve never heard of and the bright LEDs dimmed to match the warm lighting of the bar. Hyunjin seemed ready, already having worked up a sweat from all the jumping and head banging he had done the last ten minutes. 

Without the strobes flashing your vision silly, you could finally take in the bar for what it’s worth. With the incandescent lighting and soft rock cover band in the background, you could see much more why he was attracted to this place—and why he thought you would like it as well. 

The accent wall opposite to the bar was covered top to bottom in records and CDs, from classic rock, to indie, to even jazz and classical music. Not to mention the art. The walls themselves were decorated, one large wall being covered in a gorgeous mural combing early pop art, to renaissance styles, and even anime and ancient cave or Mesopotamian art, the whole thing was incredible. Then the accent wall in the hall leading to the bathroom—though you could only see a few feet of it, it seemed to be covered in graffiti by artists and others who just wanted to leave a mark that they were there, 

“This place is really cool, huh?” Jisung asks as if reading your mind, his own eyes glued to the guitars hung up behind a glass pane on one wall. 

You nod, barely managing to bring your gaze back to face him. How on Earth did Hyunjin find this place? “It’s insane, how much art is in one little bar. I mean,” you pause to emphasize your words, “even this table is painted to look like Blowin’ in the Wind, that’s incredible.”

Jisung eyes widen at that, the music major in him almost spitting out his drink at your observation. What could you expect from someone who has probably taken more music appreciation classes than you could possibly imagine? 

The last song fades out as the band announces a quick intermission to fix a technical difficulty, the small crowd letting out a collective sound of disappointment before fizzling to the bar area as they wait for them to regroup. Hyunjin included as he reappears in front of your table, a sweaty grin on his face that looked even more beautiful in the warm glow of the halogen bulbs. Why did he have to be so fucking handsome?

“You guys enjoying it here? We can leave if you want,” he offers, staring at your barely touched drinks and how it seems you haven’t moved a muscle the entire time he’d been out on the dance floor. 

“What? This place is great!” Jisung protests, though he knows Hyunjin is mainly asking you. Either way, you share his sentiments. 

“I’m just not in the dancing mood, but this place is gorgeous. How did you find it?” You tell him, eyes gleaming in wonder as you try to focus on anything but his muscles shimmering under the golden lighting. Look at the paintings, look at the paintings…

It wasn’t that hard to do since there was so much beauty in the bar, but still.

Hyunjin cracks a smile. “Actually, Yeonjun and I work here during the week. I just haven’t been rescheduled yet since we were on break and some other students needed the shifts, but I’ll be back next week.” 

Your eyes snap back to his. “You… work here…?” You say slowly, as if you e never heard anything more unbelievable in your life. “You’re lying.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Why would I lie about where I work? Just because you think I’m some poser popular guy doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to actually have taste, y’know. It’s actually part of the reason I brought you—well you guys here. I get an employee discount on all the drinks.”

“Ah, and here I thought you just wanted to share something nice with us,” you taunt, leaning back towards Jisung. 

“Kind of hard to share it when you won’t leave the bar,” he says a bit low, like he doesn’t care too much if you do or don’t hear him. “I’m gonna get back out there if you feel like joining me any time soon.” 

“Go have your fun, we’re good here for now,” you flick your wrist at him dismissively, urging him back to the dancefloor. Jisung gives him a small wave and you see Hyunjin wave back. Improvement? 

Jisung waits for Hyunjin to be out of earshot, biting his lip nervously as he builds up the courage to ask his question. “So like… I don’t know if this is too much to ask or something—you can tell me if it is—but is there something going on with you two…?”

You almost jump in surprise from the question. What? “How did you get that idea?” Was it obvious you were checking him out? 

He shrugs, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “I mean, I just wasn’t sure. The way he looks at you… and how you put up with his attitude… I was thinking maybe it was something more than friends or…” He trails off at the sight of you downing your drink. “Woah I didn’t mean to stress you out or anything!”

You gulp down the last bit, holding your hand out in front of him. How could he think that? Taking a deep breath, you look at him. “We’re barely friends again Jisung. It’s nothing like what you were thinking.”

Jisung almost looks like he doesn’t completely believe your words, but seems to resign on any arguments he may have had. “Then, in that case…”

Your heart stills at his words.

“... would you maybe, go out with me?”

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You mutter obscenities to yourself as you trudge down the path, your anger hot enough for you to ignore the stinging winter air splashing against your skin. Hyunjin’s not far behind, hands in his pockets as he strides as if he was raised on the damn mountain. 

“You can slow down, the shed isn’t going anywhere,” Hyunjin’s sickeningly laid back voice rings through your ears, interrupting the generational curses you’ve been placing on Felix since you left the cabins. 

You pause, throwing him an irritated look, before returning to your previous pace down the mountain.

Yet, as always, Hyunjin can’t leave you be. 

“So, you and J-J-Jisung have fun yesterday?” 

You roll your eyes. Don’t engage. Don’t engage. 

You should know by now, that ignoring never works with Hyunjin. “What? Too shy to kiss and tell?”

“Why are you the way that you are?” You finally let out, malice dripping from your voice. 

Hyunjin seems to perk up at your reaction, probably pleased that you responded at all. “Incredible in every way? I’m just that guy, honestly.”

You scoff at him, trying to return your focus to finding this last stupid shed. The mountain had one of the most steady weather patterns ever. The sheds had basically never been used. You don’t see any reason that this is so important, honestly. 

Hyunjin refuses to let go of the topic, though. “So something did happen between you two yesterday, huh? I told you, nobody’s as nice as he is unless—”

“Unless what, Hyunjin? Because nothing happened yesterday, yet you’re still talking shit.” You hiss at him, stopping in your tracks to give him a piece of your mind. “Which is pretty rich coming from you, since you used to be ‘that nice’ before you started this whole ‘I don’t care’ charade.”

You hate the way he looks a little amused by your slight outburst. However, what you don’t expect are his next words. 

Taking another step towards you, he leans down. “Yeah, and like I said. Nobody’s that nice just for the fuck of it…” He does something you don’t expect next, hesitating to stride past you, and instead letting out a sigh of resignation. “But okay, I’ll drop it.”

You stand stunned as he moves past you, his shoulders a bit less straight and his head a little lower than a few moments ago. 

—

“Where the hell is it?” you sneer, shivering as the cold wind bites at your skin.

Hyunjin pauses beside you, scanning the overgrown trees. “Did they not trim anything this year? Everything’s a mess. I can barely tell where we’re going.”

You consider snapping back—something sharp about his piercings or his attitude—but swallow it. You don’t see the shed either. “The other cabins were kind of like this too. Guess whoever was here last didn’t bother with chores.”

He hums in acknowledgment and pushes forward through the foliage.

It takes another ten minutes of ducking branches and swatting at gnats before the shed finally comes into view. It looks worse than you remember—grass climbing up the sides, paint peeling, the whole thing slumped like it’s tired of existing.

You unlock the padlock and tug the handle.

Nothing.

You try again, harder. The rusted metal burns against your palms and you hiss, shaking your hands out. Behind you, Hyunjin lets out a soft laugh.

“Scoot it,” he says, nudging past you. One pull, then another—then the door swings open abruptly. He stumbles back a step, catching himself just in time.

You bite back a smile. He shoots you a look, half-annoyed, half-amused.

Inside, the shed smells like dust and damp wood. Cobwebs stretch across the ceiling beams.

“Pull out the list,” you say, already stepping inside.

He grimaces but follows, unfolding the paper. “What is this handwriting supposed to be…?”

“There’s only twenty food packets,” you mutter, scanning the shelves. “Mark it for restocking.”

The two of you fall into a rhythm. Hyunjin reads items off the list, crossing things out as you locate them. The only sounds are paper rustling, shelves creaking, and the wind pushing faintly at the walls.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Hyunjin steps closer at some point—close enough that you feel the shift in air behind you. “There should be a box with fifteen face masks.”

You flinch, hand flying to your chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says, though there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression before he looks away.

You don’t comment. You just keep searching.

Minutes pass. The light through the doorway dulls, slowly enough that you almost miss it.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says, voice lower now. “Did it just get darker?”

You straighten, glancing toward the door. The thin strip of daylight has faded, clouds smothering the sky. “Probably just clouds.”

But the air feels heavier. Colder.

A sudden gust rattles the shed, knocking something loose from the roof. You both jump.

“Ridiculously calm mountain,” Hyunjin mutters.

“It’s just wind,” you insist, though your stomach tightens.

Another gust hits harder. The door slams against the wall once—twice.

Hyunjin doesn’t joke this time. He reaches for a jacket on the shelf. “We should go. Now.”

“We’re almost done,” you argue, pointing to the list. “Three things.”

Before he can respond, the wind roars again.

The door slams shut.

For a second, neither of you move.

Then you both rush forward.

You tug at the handle—nothing. Hyunjin backs up and slams his shoulder into it, grunting as he bounces back.

The shed groans around you as the storm howls outside.

You try everything—pulling, ramming, prying—but the door doesn’t give.

Eventually, you both stop, breathless.

The silence that follows is different now. Thick. Pressurized.

Hyunjin leans against the wall, chest rising and falling. You stay near the door, fingers still wrapped around the handle as if sheer will might make it move.

After a long moment, he speaks—not teasing, not smug. Just… careful.

“We’re stuck.”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

Another gust slams into the shed, making the walls creak. Instinctively, you step back—and end up closer to him than you mean to. Close enough that you’re painfully aware of his presence. His warmth. The way his attention flickers toward you, then away again.

Neither of you says anything.

The silence stretches. Like something’s building beneath the surface. Something neither of you are ready to touch yet.

And unfortunately, judging by the storm outside…

You’re going to have plenty of time.

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“[Y/N]!” You kick your sheets off like they’re on fire, sitting up in your bed at the sound of your name being screeched. 

You place a startled hand on your chest, trying to calm your breathing as you search for the source of your fear. And sure enough, there he is. Snatching your pillow from behind you, you smack your roommate, face red in anger. “Felix what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Felix winces at the impact of your pillow, holding his nose with one hand and blocking your blows with the other. “Fuck, ow! I called you like eight times before you finally woke up!” He finally ceases your abuse, his hand catching your pillow mid-swing.

You fight to tug it out of his grip “And I say again, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you waking me up at the ass crack of dawn?”

Pulling your pillow out of your grasp, he huffs, backing away cautiously. “Yeah so, the thing is, I sort of signed us up as part of the breakfast crew? So we have to go make breakfast? In five minutes ago?”

You all but lunge at him, tackling him onto his bed and holding a pillow over his face in your fit of rage.

Felix gives you fearful side eyes from where he stands cracking eggs into a bowl. He never turns his back to you as he moves, keeping you in his sights even as he goes into the fridge to grab butter. You don’t blame him, not with how you want to leap at him again, still fuming about having to be up before just about everyone else. What the fuck was Felix thinking?

Yeji bounces happily on your other side, seemingly made to be awake before every other living creature as she navigates through the kitchen swiftly. Somehow, she’s already managed to make enough pancakes and waffles to feed you three within the past ten minutes. How on Earth was she already so awake and lively?

You grumble to yourself in a lack-of-sleep-induced fury, shredding up your potatoes less than gracefully. You’re just lucky there are blade-proof gloves at your disposal, with how many times you have allowed your knuckles to graze the metal. The slices sizzle when they hit the oiled pan in front of you, and you try to focus on the smell of hashbrowns wafting in the air, rather than murdering your freckled friend. 

A shuffling pair of feet catches your attention a few minutes later, a familiar voice breaking through the silent morning air with a shiver. “[Y/N]? What are you doing out here already?”

“Good morning to you too, Jisung,” Felix says with a dramatic inflection that would have made you laugh if you weren’t still trying not to attack the guy. 

“Sorry man, uh, morning everyone,” Jisung breathes out, and you take note how he doesn’t seem tired at all. In fact, he seems like he’s been up for a while, since his hair is tamed and he seems to be wearing a fresh pair of sweats clean t-shirt. “Why are you guys in the kitchen already?”

“This one,” you growl, jabbing your thumb in Felix’s direction, “decided to sign us up for the breakfast crew.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to be so grumpy about it!”

“Felix shut up right now before I jump on you again,” you hiss out, holding the large wooden spoon in your hand up at him as a warning. Reluctantly, he backs off, glaring at you in a way that elicits a laugh out of Jisung. 

“Wow, so you’re not a morning person, huh?” Jisung smiles, approaching the counter carefully, his eyes trained on your weapon of choice. 

“No, I am not,” you huff, lowering the spoon so that you can continue to stir the frying potatoes around in the skillet. “I take it you are, though? I mean, you look like you’re ready to go live life already.”

“Ha, yeah, I guess. I woke up about an hour ago, to be honest. Normally I uh, just hang out in my dorm until its time to do something, but I heard some commotion down here and uh, I wanted to see what was going on.” He scratches his neck, a little flustered by being called out. 

You nod at him, a little disgusted that anyone would willingly wake up before eight in the morning. Masochists, you think.

Looking around awkwardly, Jisung leans a bit closer to you, a sheepish look on his face. “Um, do you want some help? I could uh, take over for a bit so you can rest your eyes a little longer.”

You visibly perk up at that, your still drooping eyes practically pleading to him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he gives you a reassuring bob of his head, and you can’t hand him the utensil fast enough. You can almost hear Felix roll his eyes behind you as you scurry out of the kitchen, making your way to one of the indoor picnic tables to lay on one of the benches. No time is wasted before you’re laying across the seats, head resting against your hand as you get into position. 

Your peace is short lived, or at least it feels that way, since you had fallen asleep before you even realized and now it had been fifteen minutes. It’s only when you hear a certain voice that you begin to wake up. 

“Wow, sleeping in the job and making somebody else do it? That’s messed up, [Y/N].” Hyunjin whispers into your ear, a smirk already plastered on his still sleepy face as he leans down beside you. 

“God, you’re like this when you wake up too?” You mumble, sounding pained at the being woken up, and already having to deal with Hyunjin. 

“Just for you.” Leaning his head against his hand, he yawns softly. “Looks like someone’s working hard to impress you.”

You hum, questioning him to elaborate further when his pointed hand appears next to you, aimed directly at Jisung. “Some people are just nice, Hwang.”

“Not that nice.” He mumbles, clicking his tongue. “

You glare at him through squinted eyes, huffing at him as you turn away. Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away. 

He does not go away. No, instead, Hyunjin is there when Jisung, Yeji, and Felix serve you breakfast. By the time you’ve finished your meal, you’re two seconds away from throwing your syrup coated plate at his irritatingly perfect morning face. 

And he’s unfortunately there when its time to gather wood, Chan pleading for you, Hyunjin, and Changbin to take over the chore while the others set up other necessities in the cabins. The only positive thing hHyunjin manages to contribute is wearing a wife beater to chop logs, allowing for a wonderful view of his muscles. You sigh. If only he would just keep that pretty mouth of his shut instead of making it his personal mission to test you as much as possible. 

You pick up a decent sized stack from the pile of freshly cut wood, struggling a bit to keep it steady as you try to carry it to the wheelbarrows. It’s heavier than you had anticipated, but you would rather bite off your big toes than ask Hyunjin for help. Why the hell did Changbin have to choose to used the restroom after the three of you had made it to the wood gathering site?

“You look ridiculous carrying all that wood.” Hyunjin half laughs and half scoffs at you, taking a few pieces out of your arms and placing them on top of his, effortlessly placing them into the carts as if they weighed nothing to him. 

You glare at him, turning your pile to be out of his reach as you pick up your pace. “I’m surprised you’re here, pretty boy. Didn’t think you’d want to get splinters all over your clothes.”

“So you admit I’m pretty?” 

You try not to agree out loud, but internally, you can’t help but enjoy watching his biceps flex every time he picks up the hatchet. Or think about how irritating it is that he seems to rip the logs apart with ease, his muscles beginning to bead with sweat. You have to pry your eyes away forcefully when Changbin jogs back to the site. 

Hyunjin doesn’t slow at his return, through. Instead, he seems to work a bit harder if anything, making sure to pick the largest logs possible to split. You almost swear he glances at you a few times, as if to make sure you see his incredible display of strength, but will the thoughts out of your head. You were not going to become one of those delusional people on campus who worshipped the ground Hyunjin walked on just because he was some model-faced jerk.

“Damn, Hyunjin. Did the wood personally offend you?” Changbin laughs, raising a brow at Hyunjin’s rapidly growing pile of half and quarter logs.

You roll your eyes. “Oh please, he’s just afraid you’ll cut more wood than him and everyone will know those muscles are just for show.”

Hyunjin seems to darken at that, smirking evilly. “At least I actually did my job on my own. Not make some kicked puppy do it for me.”

Changbin lets out an awkward laugh, looking as if he wished he’d never said anything in the first place. You barely manage to bite your tongue, opting for some form of peace by choosing to let him have the last word. He seems to take your silence as a signal of victory, chuckling to himself insufferably. You almost take the bait and start up again just to wipe the look of his face.

Hwang Hyunjin was going to be the death of you. 

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It started with a brushstroke—long, deliberate, trailing down the curve of her naked back like a whisper. His hands didn’t touch her, not yet. But his eyes did. And his gaze alone was enough to make her ache.

Hyunjin painted like he was in love. And he was.

She was his muse. His obsession. The reason the paint didn’t dry on his palette and his soul never stopped starving. He didn’t just look at her—he devoured her with his eyes, studied every freckle, every curve, every line etched by God and kissed by the sun. And when he painted her like this—bare, perched on his antique chaise in nothing but gold jewelry and goosebumps—she felt like a goddess in the flesh.

“My masterpiece,” he murmured, voice reverent.

She shivered.

It wasn’t just the chill in the studio air. It was the way he worshiped her.

Hyunjin didn’t just spoil her—he drenched her in devotion. Custom Versace silks made for her body only. Weekly deliveries of rare orchids flown in from Thailand because she said she liked the way they smelled. Diamonds for no reason. Private suites in Paris. He wore gold rings on every finger and wrapped her in his name like another piece of couture.

“Why?” she asked once, her hand resting on his jaw as he knelt between her legs, robes pooling at his elbows like some decadent royal.

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh.

“Because I need the world to know you belong to me.”

And she did.

But he belonged to her too. Even when he was on his knees, licking slow prayers into her skin like a sinner desperate for grace.

──୨ৎ──

The chandelier swayed faintly above them, but it was the mirror on the ceiling that stole her breath.

She lay there, skin kissed by silk sheets, body glistening with the golden gleam of Cartier—thin chains resting against her collarbone, bracelets at her wrists, diamonds catching the candlelight like tiny stars scattered across her body.

But her eyes weren’t on the jewels.

They were on him.

Hyunjin was between her thighs, shoulders flexing with every movement of his tongue, golden skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his hair falling into his face in soft, black waves. His back—broad, sculpted, divine—was a landscape of devotion, muscles tightening with every desperate pull of his mouth.

She could see it all in the mirror.

The way her legs trembled around him. The way his hands gripped her hips like she was sacred. The way he worshipped her—not just with his tongue, but with every inch of him.

He wasn’t in a rush. He never was.

Hyunjin ate her out like a man who’d been starved, like the only way he’d survive was with his mouth buried in her, like her pleasure was his daily prayer. His tongue moved in slow, reverent circles, teasing her open, coaxing her into a fevered mess, and then dipping deep until her whole body arched off the bed.

Her breath hitched as she watched his mouth glisten, watched his fingers curl against her thighs to hold her steady.

And in the mirror, she saw it all.

Saw the flush blooming across her chest.

Saw the gold around her throat catch the light every time she moaned.

Saw the way he looked up at her, eyes dark and starving, like he’d gladly live down there forever if she let him.

“Baby—” she gasped, her hand tangling in his hair, voice breaking as her thighs clamped tighter.

He didn’t answer.

He just groaned—low, hungry—and pulled her closer, burying his face even deeper like her pleasure was holy, like her taste was the only thing that had ever mattered.

In the mirror, she saw her head fall back, lips parted, diamonds glittering at her neck like a crown.

And when she finally shattered—loud, desperate, breathless—Hyunjin held her through every wave of it, licking her clean, kissing her thighs like benedictions.

When he finally rose from between her legs, lips wet and chin shining, he hovered over her, kissed her deeply, let her taste herself on his tongue.

“You should always see what I see,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek with a touch as gentle as silk. “You’re art. You always have been.”

She touched the Cartier around her neck, touched his face.

“You’re mine,” she breathed.

And he smiled.

“Always.”

──୨ৎ──

But the next day….. a pout.

A soft, quiet one, but Hyunjin knew it too well.

She sat on the edge of their velvet chaise, long legs crossed, her gown draped around her like a rose petal. Her makeup was perfect. Her hair was curled just right. But her eyes were stormy.

“There’s nothing that fits,” she murmured, gesturing helplessly at the small sea of shoes surrounding her. Heels in satin, crystal, and leather—all wrong.

“And no bag,” she added, a depressed tone now. “Not one that matches the tone of the dress. Not one that feels right.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, amused.

“But baby, you look—”

“No,” she cut in, standing up with a frustrated huff, silk brushing the floor.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. There it was—that fire, that exquisite taste, that refusal to blend in.

And god, he adored it.

──୨ৎ──

The next day, she woke up to chaos.

Or rather, elegance in chaos form.

The Apartment was flooded with soft Italian murmurs and velvet boxes. A sharply dressed man with silver hair bowed as he gestured to the collection he’d brought. Versace bags in every style and shade imaginable, from sleek patent leather clutches to opulent baroque-printed totes, each more divine than the last.

Heels too. Dozens of them.

Gold, white, champagne. With embroidery, pearls, snakeskin. Slingbacks. Stilettos. And somewhere in the middle—exactly the one she had pictured in her head the day before.

On top of it all: a sprawling bouquet of long-stemmed roses, gardenias, and peonies in the softest blush and ivory.

There was no note.

Just Hyunjin at the top of the stairs in a robe, leaning on the railing like a bored prince.

“Told you I’d fix it,” he said, smiling lazily. “Now go find your fairytale shoe, Cinderella.”

She stared, speechless. Then walked over to him in bare feet, her voice soft.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But you deserve to have the world shaped around you.”

──୨ৎ──

There was always a new gift waiting.

Some days, it was a sketch—him, on his floor at 3 a.m., too drunk on love to sleep, his pencil frantic to capture the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her spine. Other days, it was velvet boxes lined with Cartier and Bulgari, gold and diamonds and sapphires that matched the gleam in her eyes when he pulled her onto his lap and fastened the chains around her neck himself.

But it wasn’t just the things.

It was how he adored her. Like she was the center of his universe. Like all the beauty he created with his hands would still never compare to the shape of her sleeping in his bed.

And she was spoiled, yes.

But she was also his.

She’d said she didn’t need it. Just a casual comment at breakfast, something about how the perfume was nice but impossible to find.

So, of course, it showed up the next day. Three bottles, sealed in crystal, packaged in a lacquered case with her initials engraved in gold.

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

Hyunjin smiled, reclined on the chaise with his sketchbook in hand, his Versace robe falling open like some decadent afterthought. “You liked it.”

“I mentioned it once.”

“And I remembered.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She crossed the room, perched on his lap, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “You’re insane.”

He made her feel like the world had been created just for her to live in it. And him? He existed just to love her.

But it wasn’t one-sided.

She loved him, too.

Not for the diamonds. Not for the paintings. Not for the palace he built for her out of velvet and devotion.

She loved him when he fell asleep in the apartment, paint on his cheek and her name written over and over again in the margins of his sketchbook. She loved him when he got quiet after a long day, curling into her side like a boy who just needed to be held. She loved the soft in him as much as the sin.

She loved him for all the ways he gave himself to her—and for all the ways he let her love him back.

And that’s why she let him spoil her.

Because he was hers.

And she was everything to him.

His Muse.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

The bus ride to the mountain goes exactly how you feared it would. Hyunjin spends the entire two hours stretching his legs out just far enough to press against the back of your seat, each push deliberate and smug. Every time you turn around to glare, he offers the same infuriating grin and an insincere, “Oh—sorry,” like he’s doing you a favor by pretending to care.

If he’s not invading your space, he’s tapping your shoulder to ask useless questions. “Did you bring gloves?” or “Got extra snacks?” or even, “Hey, do you think my jacket’s warm enough?” Always no more than five minutes apart, and always with that glint in his eye that tells you he’s enjoying how close you are to snapping.

You hate how easily he still gets to you. 

And worse—you hate the few times you catch yourself laughing despite it. You keep telling yourself it’s not because it’s funny. It’s just… ridiculous. The whole thing. Him. You. The way he treats it all like a game you never agreed to play.

By the time the bus stops at the base of the mountain, your patience is hanging by a thread.

Hiking up the trail is no better. You’re busy trying not to slip on loose dirt or get bitten by one of the last bugs of the season, but Hyunjin looks like he’s on a runway instead of a mountainside—steady, unbothered, annoyingly perfect. His steps are long and confident, his expression almost bored.

You nearly trip when he glances back just to wink.

What is wrong with him?

Han trudges beside you, muttering about how much he hates outdoor activities. You’re grateful for the distraction—at least he’s normal. Every time you ask if he’s okay, he flashes a strained smile and insists he’s fine, which is more than you can say for your own mood.

The incline steepens, and you focus on keeping your footing, determined not to break your leg before day one even starts. You’re doing fine—until the faint pop of a container lid makes you turn. Felix has opened the brownies he baked last night, and your brain reacts before your body does.

“Hey, are those—”

Your foot slides out from under you before you finish the question. The ground gives way, and you’re instantly weightless, your boots skidding against the dirt. Panic hits hard and fast—your stomach lurches, hands clawing for anything to grab—until two pairs of hands catch you at once.

The shock hits first. Then the sound of your heartbeat.

Hyunjin’s arm wraps around your ribs, tight enough to make you freeze, his other hand hovering like he’s ready to grab you again if you slip. Jisung’s beside you, his hands gripping your shoulders with wide, terrified eyes.

It’s a mess of limbs and adrenaline. For a second, no one breathes.

“Y-you good?” Jisung asks first, his voice trembling. His hands linger even as he pulls back, still not convinced you’re steady.

You nod quickly, brushing off the dirt on your knees. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Hyunjin doesn’t move. His eyes drag over you, scanning for injuries, jaw tight. It’s disarming—until he opens his mouth.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he says, that familiar tone back in full force, casual and patronizing, as if he didn’t just grab you like his life depended on it.

You scoff, brushing past him. “Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“Anytime,” he fires back, smirk in place again.

You don’t even look at him this time. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it this easy,” he says, voice light but eyes sharp.

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another reaction. It’s like every word out of his mouth is custom-built to irritate you, and the worst part is—he knows it.

Jisung gives a nervous laugh, trying to cut the tension. “I, uh… I think we’re good now. You sure you can keep going?”

“I’m sure,” you say, maybe too quickly.

Hyunjin hums behind you, the sound low and amused. “Try not to fall for me again, yeah?”

You spin around just long enough to glare at him. “You’re so annoying.”

He grins, walking backward up the trail like he’s never been more proud of himself. “And yet, you’re still talking to me.”

You turn away before he can see your face—because if he did, he’d know that beneath all your anger, your pulse is still racing.

And that might be the most annoying part of it all.

Oh how you wanted to send him tumbling down the path. 

—- 

You sigh as you search for Jisung in the small crowd surrounding the bonfire. There were only about twenty people on the trip, how did you manage to lose him? Your stomach twists in remorse for dragging him onto this trip, and then out to this bonfire, only to lose him within fifteen minutes. 

You only pull your gaze off of the partying figures before you when you hear a rustling beside you on your wooden seat, groaning lowly when you see the cause. 

With a smug chuckle, Hyunjin leans towards you, eyes glimmering in mischief. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What do you want, Hwang?” You draw out, allowing your chin to drop roughly into your palm as you stare out into the crowd once more, this time with the intent of avoiding looking at Hyunjin’s annoyingly perfect arms that are flushed from being exposed to the cold evening. 

“Rude much?” He coughs out, feigning shock at your reaction. “Where’s little man?”

“Little man? Seriously?” You have to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, fearing that if you did the action again within the next week, that they would really get stuck behind your head the way your mother had always warned. “Jisung’s not even that short.”

“Pfft, compared to Changbin, maybe.” He laughs at his own words, before moving to a different topic. “How’s everything been?”

You give him an offput look, eyebrow raised with caution. “Same old, school, school, work, and more school.”

“Yeah?” He shakes his head at you, entertained by your plain answer. When he refocuses on you, he tilts his head and leans in a bit closer, eyes squinted curiously. “You know, out of everyone, you’re just about the only person in our friend group who hasn’t asked me what my trip was like.”

“Oh really?” You pause, but not long enough for him to answer. “Maybe that’s because I don’t care.”

“Now we both know that’s not true.”

You glare at his arrogantly antagonizing smirk that paints itself perfectly against his plush lips. “Fine, whatever. I’ll bite. How was your year, Hwang?”

He looks proud of himself as he straightens up, his broad chest coming to press against his t-shirt in a way that makes you concentrate even harder on his face. “It was pretty cool, [Y/N], thank you for asking,” his tone sounding all too much like a tour guide for your liking. “I learned a lot abroad, I think I might do it again next semester.”

You take note of how he sighs wistfully at his statements, leaning back against his arms that are firmly planted at his sides on the log bench the two of you shared. “Oh really? A year wasn’t enough for you?”

“I knew you missed me,” he licks his teeth, squinting at you in an annoyingly playful way that unfortunately tugs at your heartstrings. “I just got to meet so many people, and try so many things. It was incredible, honestly. To be real, I think everyone should take at least one semester abroad. It realy brings out new sides of you.”

“Uh huh,” you mock, grossed out by how ignorant he sounds, speaking as if everyone can afford to just go to another continent for a year. “I bet.” What a snob. 

He looks a bit baffled at your reaction, but his smirk doesn’t falter. “Why so negative?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just happy here with the way I am,” you sneer, looking a bit peeved at his ‘insight’. “Maybe I don’t think everyone needs to go reinvent themselves abroad so they can be campus famous.”

He almost looks hurt by that, his expression finally falling a bit. “Seriously? That’s low.”

“You’ve gone lower,” you dismiss him, standing up, and brushing the backside of your pants. “I don’t know why I’m even talking to you right now. Go find Yeonjun or something, I’m going back to find Jisung.”

You hear him mutter something along the lines of ‘shocker’, but chose to ignore it. Especially since he’d sounded in the mood to argue with you some more. 

When you do find Jisung, he’s being cornered by Felix, your blond friend encouraging him to take shots. When he sees you approaching, his face is full of relief. “[Y/N]! Hey, uh, I need to talk to you…” You quirk your brow as he approaches you, awkwardly sidestepping Felix with a gulp. Felix watches him, his head tilted in a bit of confusion, before he shrugs and downs his shot. 

“What do you need to talk to me about?” You bump him with your hip, your arms crossed loosely in front of you to maintain the bit of bodily heat you had. 

Jisung lets out an airy chuckle. “Aha, I didn’t actually have anything to talk about. I just couldn’t keep pouring out my shots behind me. I don’t know what he has in that bottle, but it’s, uh, it’s something.”

You crack up, knowing Felix, he probably had his own special concoction on him and he was only a few shots away from making Jisung throw up. You could barely drink with the guy, always tapping out of sharing whatever drink he made after the third sip. The man definitely lived up to your expectations for an Australian. 

“Mm, I see,” you nod in understanding. “Yeah he’s kind of a party animal if I’m being honest. Its pretty fun to party with him if you can get into it, otherwise it’s a little worrying to witness.”

“I can tell,” he nods, eyes wide and lips pulled into a grin. 

“So, how are you enjoying the trip so far?”

He looks to the sky, a finger finding its way to his chin to tap it theatrically. “Other than the mosquito that is living out its last days in the cabin, and Felix trying to give me alcohol poisoning… It’s kind of cool. I mean, its cold as fuck, but uh, it’s still cool.” 

You smile at that, taking note of how the cold air paints a flush across his cheeks while you both waddle in the direction of the cabin absentmindedly. When the two of you enter the lodge, you quickly take a seat on one of the sofas in the lobby that’s perched in front of the fireplace, sighing at the warmth. 

Jisung trails behind you hesitantly, like he’s unsure if he’s supposed to go sit with you or not. You notice, waving him over and patting the seat beside yourself. “Loosen up, Jisung. You’re stuck with me for a whole week.”

“Right, stuck,” he breathes out, laughing awkwardly.

You wonder what he means by that internally for a second. You know there’s something different about your blooming friendship with Jisung compared to your other friends, but you don’t want to push it. Making a move was never really your thing, and you didn’t want to make it your thing now either. Instead, you sink further into the couch, closing your eyes for a long second as you soak in the heat from the fire. 

Finally looking at him again, you start. “You know, I am glad you came. I really want you to enjoy this trip, this place is incredible, honestly.”

He gives you a look that makes your heart thump, but its not because he’s the one looking at you that way.

You bite your lip, eyes making their way to your hands as you try to push away the thought. You can’t help it though. It’s not your fault he was giving you those same doe eyes Hyunjin used to, after all. 

★𓂃please consider reblogging and/or commenting, your support means a lot to me <3

"hey," you say softly, reaching up to cup his face with both hands. your thumbs brush gently across his cheekbones, and you feel the dampness there—evidence of tears you’d watched fall during his speech. "you okay?"

he doesn't answer right away. instead, he just looks at you, dark eyes searching yours with the disparity of a man who needs something to anchor himself to.

it takes a moment before he finally gives a slow nod.

"yeah." his voice cracks on the single syllable, betraying him. "i just…"

he doesn't finish. he doesn't need to.

your arms raise in silent question and it takes all of two seconds before he takes that final step, practically melting into you.

his arms wrap around your waist, hold tight around you as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his breath hitches, and you tighten your hold in response.

"i've got you," you murmur, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head while the other rubs soothing circles against his back. "i've got you, minnie."

for a moment, he just breathes, body pressed close to yours. and you? you just let him take whatever he needs. you press a kiss to his temple, humming softly as your fingers threading gently through his hair.

"i watched the whole thing," you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "your performance was incredible. and your speech..." you pause, emotion thickening your own voice. "seungmin, you were so brave up there."

seungmin makes a small sound against your neck—something between a laugh and a sob—and you feel his grip on you tighten further.

"it was so much," he says, his words muffled but clear enough. "everything just... it hit me all at once."

"i know," you say, letting your nails scratch idly against his scalp. "i know, baby."

you stand like that for a while, just holding each other in the quiet of the hotel room. you can feel his heartbeat gradually slowing against your chest, can feel the way his breathing starts to even out, though there's still a slight tremor in every other exhale.

after a few minutes, he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. and despite the tears and the exhaustion—his eyes hold something bright. something that makes your chest ache with how much love you feel for him.

"we won," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "we actually won."

you smile, your hands moving until they can rest on his shoulders, slowly massaging at the muscle there. the affection isn’t dissimilar to what felix had done while they’d been on stage. "i know, min. and you absolutely deserve it."

"no, but…" he shakes his head, like he needs to say it out loud to make it real. "we won. we got a fucking daesang, and—"

and that's when it happens.

the words seem to break something inside him, something he's been holding back since they’d walked off stage, and possible long before that, too.

his face crumples, features twisting with the full force of everything he's been carrying—the years of work, the doubt, the hope, the disbelief. and most importantly, the overwhelming, devastating relief of it all.

a sob breaks free from his chest, raw and unrestrained, and his hands come up to cover his face as his shoulders tremble.

"oh, seungmin," you breathe, immediately pulling him back into you, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist while the other cradles his head. "it's okay. let it out, sweetheart. i'm right here."

he cries into your shoulder. you feel every tremor, every gasping breath, you hold him tighter because of it. your hand goes back to it’s slow circles against his back while you press kiss to anywhere you can reach.

"you did it," you murmur between kisses in a hoarse whisper. "you and the boys, you did it. all that hard work, all those late nights, every single moment you poured into this- it paid off, baby. you won. you got your fucking daesang." you say it with a small laugh, stealing his previous words as his own.

he shakes his head against you, like he still can't quite believe it. you can’t blame him.

"you're so incredible," you continue, voice soft but steadying. "so talented, so dedicated. i'm so proud of you i could cry. fuck, i did cry-“ that wins a laugh out of you both. “everyone who loves you is so proud, minnie. you have no idea how amazing you are."

"i can't-" seungmin’s voice breaks on the words. "i can't stop…"

"you don't have to," you assure him, giving him a small squeeze. "cry as much as you need to. you've earned this. the award and the tears."

seungmin gives a curt nod before nuzzling himself further into the crook of his neck.

for several long minutes, you just hold him, swaying gently, letting him release everything he's been bottling up for god knows how long. you whisper praise and comfort against his skin, your touch steady and grounding.

eventually, his small sobs begin to quiet, turning into no more than shaky breaths and the occasional hiccup. he stays in your arms a moment longer, then slowly, reluctantly, he pulls back.

"sorry," he mumbles, immediately lifting his hands to scrub at his face, wiping away the tears with the heels of his palms. the movement is almost aggressive, frustrated. "i'm sorry, i- i hate this. i hate crying like this."

"don't apologize," you say gently, though you let him have the space he's clearly looking for. "there's nothing to be sorry for."

seungmin takes another step back, turning away from you slightly as he continues to wipe at his eyes, jaw tight. you can see him trying to pull himself together, to rebuild that composure he normally wears so well. it makes your heart ache—how even now, even after everything, he struggles slightly with the concept of vulnerability.

you stay quiet for a moment, just watching him with worried eys as you let him take the space he needs to breathe. after that moment lets up, you move slowly and deliberately so he can see what you're doing, you reach out and gently tug at the sleeve of his stage jacket.

he glances at you, confusion flickering across his tear-stained face.

"let me help," you say softly, already sliding the heavy jacket off one shoulder. "you'll feel better without this."

despite his initial confusion, seungmin doesn't protest, just lets his arms drop so you can ease the jacket off completely. you fold it carefully and drape it over the back of the couch before moving back to his side.

when he's within reach again, you raise a hand to smooth over his arm. "better?"

he nods, still not quite looking at you, his hands now hanging loosely at his sides. he takes a deep, shuddering breath, then another, slowly regaining some semblance of control.

you watch him for a moment longer, then reach for his hand and lace your fingers through his. "come on," you say gently, tugging him toward the bedroom. "let's get you comfortable."

he follows without resistance, his grip on your hand firm but tired.

you guide him down the little hallway to the bed, pulling back the covers before settling yourself down first, lying with your back slightly propped by the pillows.

you utter a small “c’mere,” and gently tug at his hand.

seungmin hesitates for only a second before crawling onto the bed beside you. he shifts carefully before lowering himself down, resting his head against your chest and draping an arm over your waist. it’s painfully obvious how tense his body is—every muscle seemingly locked tight despite the exhaustion you know he must be feeling.

you wrap your arms around him, one hand immediately finding its way back into his hair. you begin carding your fingers through the soft strands slowly, rhythmically, the way you know always helps him unwind.

"how are the others doing?”

seungmin lets out a quiet breath through his nose. you feel it warm against your collarbone. "they're... yeah. everyone was pretty emotional. channie hyung couldn't stop crying. felix too." there's a pause, and then "we all kind of lost it together backstage."

“i’m glad you just let yourselves feel it. i’m sure there were lots of big emotions"

"changbin hyung kept trying to crack jokes," seungmin continues with a hearty sigh, his voice a little stronger now. "but even he couldn’t shake it. and innie... he just kept hugging everyone."

you smile at that, your nails tracing gentle paths across his scalp. “i’m willing to bet hyun took full advantage of that, didn’t he?”

he hums in acknowledgment and gives a small nod.

you can still feel how rigid he is. it’s almost like his body hasn't quite gotten the message that it's okay to relax now, that he’s not still perched up on that stage infront of microphone and thousands of fans.

"minnie," his name falls from your lips featherlight as your other hand moves to once again smooth over his arm. "you're so tense, baby. try to breathe for me."

"i am breathing," he mumbles, but even as he says it you can feel him make a conscious effort to let his shoulders drop. you can’t help but smile as he. starts to sink more fully into you.

"that's it," you encourage, your fingers continuing their soothing path through his hair. "just rest. you don't have to do anything right now except be here with me."

gradually, with each pass of your fingers and each steady beat of your heart beneath his ear, you feel him begin to soften around the edges. the tension slowly bleeds out of his muscles, his breathing evening out into something deeper, more peaceful.

"better?" you ask after a few minutes.

"yea." he whispers, and this time his voice holds something far closer to contentment. "thank you."

"always," you emphasis your point by pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "i've got you, minnie. always.

you stay like that for a while longer, just holding him. your fingers never stop their gentle rhythm through his hair, and the room is quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond the windows.

after a stretch of time you don’t care to measure, you feel his breathing deepen even further, his body growing heavier against yours. you smile softly, recognizing the tell tale signs of exhaustion finally winning over adrenaline.

"seungmin?" you whisper, testing to see if he's still awake.

the little "mmh?" he responds with is barely there, drowsy and content and entirely endearing.

"i'm so proud of you," you say for the nth time, your voice full of warmth and sincerity. "so, so proud. of everything you've accomplished, of the person you are, of how hard you've worked to get here. you're incredible, minnie."

seungmin makes a soft sound of acknowledgment, nuzzling closer into your chest.

"and i love you," you add, giving his bicep a gentle pinch. "so much. more than you know."

"love you too," he mumbles, the words slurred with sleep but no less meaningful. his arm tightens around your waist for just a moment, a final squeeze before his grip loosens, relaxing completely.

within moments, his breathing evens out into the steady, peaceful rhythm of sleep. you feel the last of the tension leave his body, feel him sink fully into you, finally allowing himself to rest.

before you drift off yourself, you press one last gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you'll be right here when he wakes—ready to remind him all over again just how extraordinary he truly is.

You internally hate yourself for what has become of you and Hyunjin over the past few weeks. Not because you missed him, but because you can’t seem to go one day without him pushing your buttons. You’re even more upset that you’ve come to expect it at this point, sometimes finding yourself waiting for his sickenly hot voice to ‘ruin’ your day.

But honestly, who could blame you? He had essentially pavlov’d you to associate his irritating comments with his beautiful face and muscles. You can’t help it—you’re only human, after all. You have human reactions and desires—this was just a product of that.

That, and the glimpses you would get of someone other than this arrogant version of Hyunjin. Every so often, there would be a glint in his eye, a certain octave in his laugh, a wrinkle in his grin, and you would see him.

Not the showboater who had everyone flocking to him. Not the pompous bastard who would come up with pretentious analysis for his presentations. Not even the guy who treated his social media feed as if it needed to be updated daily.

You would see your Hyunjin.

And no matter how much you tell yourself to let it go, some part of you still wants to see more.

Which is why you didn’t pack up and decide to finish your semester project at home like everyone else in the art studio, but stay behind, even if he was only two seats down from you. For the most part, its a peaceful silence, the two of you not really talking in order to focus on your pieces. Hyunjin seems to be doing an oil painting, while you chose a mixed media collage and acrylic painting, with details that you’re planning to add at the end with fine liner pens. 

However, there are moments where you can almost swear he’s staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to check. So you instead wait for them to pass, sitting in an uncomfortable stillness until they do. 

This time, the moment doesn’t pass silently. You hear Hyunjin put down his paintbrush and lean back in the creaky wooden chair. “So, how’s your painting going?”

You figure its best to pretend you don’t hear him, focusing on the music playing in your ears. Even if its low, Hyunjin doesn’t know that, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to talk to him today. Especially considering the way he had presented his current progress earlier in class—his excruciating TedTalk voice still replaying in your ears.

Hyunjin, however, doesn’t seem to take the hint. You hear his well rehearsed art critic voice once more, “Would you mind looking over my piece?”

You sigh, putting your brush into a stained cup of water and give in. “Sure, Hwang.”

He grins victoriously at that, sliding his seat back and gesturing to his painting confidently. You push yourself out of your seat and make your way to him, making sure to keep a good distance between the two of you. 

“I feel like it’s missing something,” he tells you, his own eyes examining his work from behind you. You give it a good look. It’s nice, that’s for sure. The flowers are vibrant, lively, and the detail is incredible. Yet, there’s something… flat about it all. “Yeah, it's missing depth. Everything about this is just surface—I can’t pull any kind of story from it.” Hyunjin tilts his head, a bit taken aback by your response. “Really? I was thinking it was more like reflective lighting or something…” “That too, I guess, but it seems really dull meaning wise. I guess you’re losing your touch… Must be all the hair dye getting to your brain.” “Ouch. Maybe we should just get your eyes checked. You have been making some questionable judgements lately…” He says, voice dripping with arrogance as he moves closer to his piece, disregarding your input. 

You scoff. “Whatever, Hwang. You asked, I delivered. Not my fault you can’t be critiqued anymore.” You shake your head at him, trudging back to your own seat, appalled by his reaction. How cocky could one be about their art? Why ask for a second opinion if you didn’t want it? Ridiculous. 

Still, when you see him lean back in his seat, looking at his painting as if it was personally offending him, your mind sees the boy who’d been too hard on himself for every piece. The one who would ask for your thoughts on every piece as many times as you’d be willing to answer, taking each suggestion as seriously as possible. 

Your heart aches. You miss that boy. 

—-

You shiver, the chilly morning air making your breaths come out in puffs of white as you await the shuttle meant to take you to the camp site entrance. A light breeze flows over you, and you huddle closer to Felix, who’s teeth are chattering into your ear. Glancing at your phone, you make a sound of distress. “Why is it so cold? And why is the bus taking so long?”

You hear Chan yawn beside you before he checks his own screen for the time. “Its not that cold, and the bus never gets us before seven fifteen. It’s only seven o’eight.”

Felix and Changbin whine at that. The four of you had gotten up bright and early to make sure you had all prepared everything you would need in time, and had made it to the pickup spot at around six forty. In other words, you had all been standing there for almost half an hour, freezing your asses off. You felt bad for the guy who was already there when you had arrived, wondering how long he had been waiting alone. There were a few other people, maybe ten, waiting scattered around the sidewalk alongside you all.

You whip your head around at the sound of a suitcase rolling up behind you, a bit shocked since you thought that everyone that would be going was already there. Your eyes trail up from his shoes, up his frame until you see his face. You jump away from Felix, making him huff in surprise before he searches for warmth in Changbin’s side. 

With a smile, you bounce over to the figure, ignoring the burning of the cold on your face as you approach. “You came!”

Jisung smiles sheepishly, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. “I’m hoping you still wanted me to?”

Despite your teeth clattering against each other, you still beam at him. “Of course I did! When did you change your mind?”

“... The night I spilled our drinks on you,” he chuckles, gloved hand tugging at his scarf. Clearing his throat, he adds on, “We just had such a good time, I uh, I thought maybe this could be fun um… with you.”

Both your faces redden, and thankfully the cold hides your red cheeks from each other. “Aw, that’s really sweet Jisung. I’m sure you’re going to love it.” He nods, rubbing his arms in search of warmth. 

Seconds later, you hear a trembling voice approach, a bit of mischief tucked into his tone. “Who’s this, [Y/N]? Your new boyfriend?” You nudge Felix roughly, making him topple over clutching his side, yet there’s still an amused grin on his freckled face. With a teasing groan, he pushes out, “Hey! I was just asking a question!”

You’re about to tell Jisung to ignore your freckled pest, but before you can, you’re cut off by another voice that makes you still. 

“[Y/N]’s boyfriend?” Hyunjin cuts in, appearing seemingly out of thin air, his tone teasing and… annoyed? He makes his way a bit closer, resting his elbow on Jisung in a way that makes you recall how he’d called Jisung short at the party. “Oh, hey… Jihyun.”

Jisung cringes a little at the name, and you internally begin to choke Hyunjin out because you can tell he remembers Jisung’s name correctly, he just wanted to be an ass. Still, your shy companion mumbles out a gentle, “It’s Jisung, actually…”

“Oh right, my bad man,” he puts on a faux apologetic look, before turning back to the rest of the group. “I can’t believe you’ve stolen [Y/N]’s heart already. Is it as cold and dark as I think it is?”

Of course, the Hyunjin you witnessed every once in a while wouldn’t be the one joining you on this trip. No, it had to be the one you’ve grown to loathe. 

You roll your eyes at him, in disbelief that this was really happening to you. Why on Earth is Hyunjin here? He had explicitly expressed that he was not interested in the trip at all. There can only be one reason.

The universe is out to get you.

That is the conclusion you come to as Hyunjin looms over the group, each second he’s there making your skin burn with irritation. Sure, he had become a bit more tolerable since the party, but you still couldn’t bear to be around the guy for more than a few hours—if even that. This can’t get any worse, right?

Wrong!

You hear the voice of the only person that could rival your irritation towards Hyunjin. Yeonjun. He hasn’t done anything to you directly, sure, but you could almost swear that he was at least half the reason for Hyunjin’s barely tolerable act. It seemed like everything Hyunjin did that you found utterly ridiculous, Yeonjun was part of it. Campus photoshoots? Yeonjun was taking Hyunjin’s picture, before they switched roles. Overly artificial opinions on anything? Yeonjun. The only good thing you saw Yeonjun contributing to Hyunjin’s life would be the gym, because if Hyunjin wasn’t rocking open carry with those guns, you wouldn’t be able to stomach him half as long as you had been. 

You turn to see not only Yeonjun, but Yeji, and Beomgyu as well, except only the first two have suitcases. Yeonjun and Yeji both seem at least fairly upbeat—as upbeat as Yeonjun can seem with his permanent model face, at least—while Beomgyu is clearly sporting a pout. 

“Hey! Yeonjun!” Changbin grins, and you quirk your brow at the familiarity that he greets him with. When had those two gotten so close?

“Hey man!” Yeonjun nods back, still keeping his nonchalant pace. 

As they get closer, you hear Beomgyu whining to Yeji, “Please, just let me take your spot! I’ll pay you, seriously, aren’t we friends?”

“I didn’t do all that studying for nothing, Gyu, you shouldn’t have failed two exams!” She scolds him, but you can’t deny that she still sounds a bit playful in doing so. 

Still, he whines, tugging at her scarf, “I tried! I swear, those two professors just hate me!”

“Oh yeah?” She looks at him, “And why is that? Because you don’t behave in lectures!”

He winces at that, and you see his eyes light up seconds later with one last idea. “What about the rats? You’re going camping, surely there will be rats?”

You see her stop in her tracks, face scrunched in worry, before she squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “Well, I’m just going to have to pray that they don’t get to me. I’m not passing up a free vacation just so you can fail courses again next semester. Maybe this will teach you something about work ethic.”

Beomgyu looks defeated, and you can’t deny that they bicker like cartoon characters, but you can’t help but find Yeji… Admirable? The girl participated in some of the ‘campus celebrity’ activities, sure, but she sounds genuinely hardworking. Nothing like what you would expect from Hyunjin’s new friend group, especially from the one who was related to him. 

Yeonjun finally appears at Changbin’s side, giving you all a quick once over before complimenting Changbin’s outfit and throwing the rest of you quick nods. “So, any sign of the bus yet? The longer I look at Beomgyu the worse I feel.”

You and Felix tilt your heads, Felix piping up to say what you were both thinking, “I would have thought you would be happy to get away from the guy, based on how you were last time.”

He shakes his head. “No, he’s a little weird and some work, but I always have his back when I can. Feels wrong going without him, but he insisted that I go anyway.”

You let out a small huh, at that, feeling like you were suddenly seeing things you wouldn’t have under normal circumstances. Based on the group lunch you all had, you thought the two had more of a Tom and Jerry thing going on, not whatever this maternal instinct Yeonjun was basically overflowing with as he stared at his friend sadly. 

Somehow, the more you get to see of these people, the less you understood them.

While everyone is catching up, you can’t help but allow your eyes to wander. Of course, as they always seem to (unfortunately?), they find their way to Hyunjin. You haven’t even noticed the way you’ve trained on his lips until they’re much closer to you, smirking. 

“You know, someone other than me is going to catch you staring one of these days,” his voice low enough that you doubt anyone else hears over their own small talk, except maybe Jisung, but just loud enough that you can hear every bit of smugness dripping from his tongue. You’re about to protest, when he starts again. “If you missed me that much, you could just say so.”

Keeping your own voice down, you laugh, shaking your head. “And just when I think you’re not all piercings and box dye, there you are again.”

“At least I can say I’m consistent,” he licks his lips.

“Consistently aggravating, Hwang.”

“So we’re going to pretend you’re smiling right now because I’m annoying?” he teases, eyes darkening as they glance at your mouth. He says it like he knows he’s right, arrogant and unwavering. 

You didn’t even realize you were smiling until that moment, your lips faltering as you process his words. But you recover just as quickly as you’d stumbled. “I smile all the time. You aren’t special.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, but we both know that you don’t give anyone else that smile. That one,” he pauses, his eyes almost seeming to zero in on you in a way that makes you want to be anywhere else, “that one is for me.”

Your heart stutters, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to say back to that, your brain scavenging for anything witty to retort back when you hear the familiar sound of gravel crunching under tires. 

Reaching around Hyunjin, Jisung taps you, his eyes looking at you with a gentle alertness. “Hey, uh, the bus is here. Let me help you with that,” his hand already reaching for your suitcase before you can even think to stop him. It warms your heart, and you give him a grateful smile for helping you pull away from the uncomfortable silence that had found its way into your throat. 

You silently thank everything for the bus’s timing, choosing to awkwardly ignore Hyunjin rather than give him more attention. At least this way, you can pretend you don’t notice the way his eyes follow you as Jisung puts your luggage into the vehicle, or the way your stomach twists you fight to keep your own gaze off of Hyunjin.  

When you finally load into the bus, you think you have at least two hours of peace, Jisung sat on your right while you nab the window seat. However, you’re proven wrong when you feel a hand grip your seat’s headrest, a familiar scent hitting your nose as a presence leans over you.

“You ready?” Hyunjin’s voice mutters, something challenging dancing in his voice. 

“As I’ve ever been,” you sigh, already mourning the rest of the week. 

Thankfully, Jisung catches your mood, leaning over to you with an adorably shy smile that eases your heart. “Um, you should, like, take a nap, I’ll wake you up when we get there. Don’t worry, I won’t let you like, hit your head or anything.”

As if on cue, you yawn, and he laughs at that before offering his shoulder. Sheepishly, you accept it, doing your best not to take not of the way Hyunjin removes his hand from your seat, sliding into his own with what you can only describe as an unimpressed huff. 

This was going to be a long week.

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You feel the cold before you see the damage. Whoever had bumped into you had also spilt your beverage all over your shirt. And by the mixed aromas, you’re pretty sure they spilled their drink on you as well. 

Hunching over and pulling the fabric of your shirt away from you, you get ready to spew everything you’ve been holding in, when an all too familiar jumbling of words hits your ears. 

“I-I’m really, really sorry! Fuck, are you okay? I uh, I can buy you a new shirt! And a new drink—I’m so so sorry,” he sputters out, hands hovering around your frame like they don’t know how to help.

“Jisung?” You brighten up, flipping around towards him. “What’re you doing here?”

He looks stunned, “[Y/N]? Oh, oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Somehow, he seems more embarrassed upon learning you’re the person he’s drenched in alcohol. “Please let me get you something else to wear.”

Hyunjin blinks in confusion, one hand on your shoulder from when Jisung had bumped into you, his gaze jumping between the two of you. “Hold on, you know this guy?”

You ignore Hyunjin, still pinching the shirt to keep it from sticking to your skin. “I don’t need you to buy anything, I’ll get a shirt from one of the stands.”

Jisung holds his hands out in front of you, following you as you start moving towards one of the stands, Hyunjin also in tow, silently staring your acquaintance down. “No, really, let me buy it! I feel so bad, it would help me, honestly!”

You shake your head at him, finding his persistence endearing, “Jisung…”

“I just don’t want you to remember me as a jerk,” he admits, defeated as he follows you through the crowd, weaving through the other guests. “Please, let me buy you a new one.”

“Oh yeah, that would suck. [Y/N]’s really into hating jerks right now,” Hyunjin cuts in, handing a vendor a few bucks and snagging one of the graphic tees they had hanging from the stand. “Too bad I already bought a shirt.”

He attempts to hand it to you, but you just side eye him, unhappy with his comments towards Jisung. Especially with how nervous Jisung seems to be, pale from the idea that you’ll actually hate him from now on, and because of the passive aggressive attitude Hyunjin is exuding. When you don’t accept his offering, he just sighs, stepping back with his arms up in a surrender pose. “Fine! Fine! He can give you the shirt.”

You roll your eyes as he drops it in Jisung’s confused hands, throwing you a sly look as he does so. Jisung shuffles over to you, handing you the shirt and leaning in with a hand over his mouth to hide his words. “Um… not to be rude or anything, but uh, is he okay? Did I do something? Like besides bumping into you…”

You mimic his actions, bringing your hand to cup over your mouth. “You didn’t do anything, he’s just an ass. Genuinely, ignore him.”

Jisung nods, slowly turning to Hyunjin and throwing him an awkward wave and smile. Hyunjin waves, making a sarcastically happy face as he does so. You don’t have the energy to roll your eyes again, so instead you ask Jisung to walk you to one of the bathrooms so you can change. 

He stands outside the bathroom, shifting side to side nervously as people throw him odd looks for waiting outside the girls’ bathroom. He gulps at a particularly nasty look from a girl who was about to enter, before she decides against it at the sight of him. “Hey, uh, are you almost done in there? People are looking at me like I’m some kind of creep…”

You laugh from inside, wiping the remaining alcohol off your skin with a soapy wet napkin. “I just need another minute, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, hiding behind his hand from passersby.

“What’re you doing here anyway? I would think big crowds like this weren’t your thing.”

“Well, uh, you’re right. My friend dragged me here… he promised he’d stay close by, but uh, I lost him around ten minutes in,” Jisung mutters the end, scratching the back of his neck. “I was actually on my way out when I ran into you—literally. Sorry again, by the way.”

“It’s fine!” You hum, popping out from the restroom. Jisung jumps, unprepared for your exit. “Thanks for sticking around long enough for me to get changed at least.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind staying longer if um…” he trails off, staring at the sky above you sheepishly, “if you would let me stay with you?”

“Ooh, look at you,” you joke, taking note of his flushed neck and ears. “I’d actually like that a lot. Would keep Hyunjin off my back, too, I think.”

He smiles at that, and you drag him off to get new drinks.

—-

Hanging out with Jisung is a lot more fun than you’d expect. Not that you thought he was boring, he just is a lot more open with you than he was last time. He’s cracking jokes at you every few minutes, playful nudging you, and even dancing a bit with you when the DJ finally starts playing some real certified club bangers. You’re surprised he actually lived up to his words of not normally being as awkward as he was in the library. 

Which is how you find yourself, tipsy as ever, perched against a brick divider in the campus quad; Jisung is at your side, equally as tipsy.

It's honestly the most you’ve enjoyed yourself in a while, and you find yourself staring at Jisung more than you would like. Oh these drinks…

You catch him looking at you too, letting out nervous laughs every time your skin brushes. He doesn’t move away, though. You don’t want the night to end any time soon.

Unfortunately, all good things must.

Jisung’s phone rings obnoxiously from his pocket, begging to be answered with MINHO flashing on the screen aggressively. He gives you a look that reads I have to take this, and you turn away innocently, giving him the green light to answer it. 

“Hey? Minho—oh… Right now?” He frowns, hand coming up to his lips in a bit of shock. “Well can’t you take him?”

You look at him with a raised brow, wondering what news he could be receiving to make him pout like that. 

He sighs, mumbling something into the device, and turning to you with remorseful eyes. “I really hate to cut this short… but I have to take someone home. My friend is puking up a storm I guess.”

You laugh at that, smiling in understanding, “I get it, don’t worry. We can hang out again soon, right?”

“Right,” he nods, licking his lips in what seems like nerves. He looks like he wants to do something, but you can’t exactly figure out what before he stands up abruptly. “I’ll see you?”

“Yup.”

He gives you that same awkward bow before he basically runs off, sifting through people in search of his friends. 

The silence that follows is peaceful and empty, but only for a moment, as you hear someone hopping down to take a seat on the other side of you seconds later. You don’t need to look to figure out who it is, the mix of familiarity and unknown giving it away immediately. “What do you want, Hwang?”

Hyunjin sighs, “So this Hwang thing is sticking? No thank you for saving you from sitting alone for eternity? Just what do you want, Hwang?” A mix of irritation and amusement on his face as he pushes his tongue against his canine. 

“Yup.”

“Nice,” he nods sarcastically. There’s a beat of silence before he starts up again. “Didn’t think you were into guys like him.”

You huff at him, standing in annoyance. Two sentences and you were already sick of him for the next three weeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you know,” he stands too, a small smirk playing at his lips as he fiddles with his hands, “he’s really timid… and short.”

“Short? Really?” How in depth, you think to yourself, displeased with his attitude.

“Amongst other things,” he saunters towards you, a certain cadence to his walk that makes your heart stutter.

Glancing around, scoffing, you cross your arms. “Jisung’s a great guy, I’m actually hoping he’s going camping with us. I’d really love to see more of him.”

Hyunjin hunches over to bring his head a little more leveled with yours. “Would you now? So what? He can say sorry to the dirt he walks on?”

“Wow!”

“What? I mean, is that the plan? Replace me with him?”

“Replace you?” You laugh dryly, exasperated with your former friend. “You ever think I might just be making a new friend because I like him? Like, honestly, you’re not that important to everyone. Not everything is about you.”

“So you just honestly like the nervous wreck in an oversized hoodie?”

“You know what, Hwang? I do. I like that he’s himself,” you correct, in disbelief that he was belittling someone so openly. “I like that he’s not afraid to seem kind or compassionate, and that he doesn’t need to be the center of everything to breathe.”

“Is that it?” His facade cracks.

“Plus, he seems to actually want to hang out with me, unlike some people who are only ever around when they want to piss me off,” you finish him off, a certain bite to your words that make his face drop fully.

“Subtle.”

You turn around to leave, pausing mid step, wanting to say something more but you can’t find the words. After a moment of reluctance, you breathe out, storming off. 

Why did he have to be so fucking irritating? 

More importantly, why did you almost enjoy it?

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