skye ⭑

❝ tracklist ❞  ─── lo$er=lo♡er—txt ❦ no celestial—le srfm ❦ misery business—paramore ❦ never stop me—i-dle ❦ lxxk 2 u—yena ❦ basket case—green day ❦ happy death day—xdinary heroes ❦ gives you hell—the all-american rejects ❦ shoot me—day6 ❦ black eye—vernon ❦ sk8er boi—avril lavigne ❦ bump bump—woodz ❦ favorite—isabel larosa ❦ 2 minus 1—svt ❦ glue song—beabadoobee ❦ there she goes—lauran hibberd

the heavy oak doors of the back exit of the high school building creaked just a little too loudly, making both of you freeze in unison. you held your breath, your fingers tightly gripping the worn griptape of your skateboard, while keonho stood right behind you, practically breathing down your neck because he was trying so hard to hide his tall frame behind yours.

“did anyone see?” he whispered, his voice pitching high with that familiar, dramatic anxiety he always got whenever he tried to break a rule.

you rolled your eyes, glancing back at him over your shoulder. your heavy eyeliner flicked upward as you gave him a flat look. “keonho, if anyone saw us, it would be because you’re wearing the loudest neon green hoodie in existence. i told you to wear black.”

“but black absorbs heat, sweetheart, and i am a delicate flower who will melt under the midday sun,” he whined, instantly pouting his lower lip out in that specific way he knew always made you soften, even if you’d never admit it to his face. “besides, you’re the one who promised. you said today. right now. during third period history because mr. choi’s voice sounds like a lawnmower running out of gas.”

“i said i’d teach you how to skateboard, i didn’t say i’d act as a human shield for your giant ass,” you muttered, but a grin tugged at the corner of your lips anyway. you checked the empty courtyard one last time before pushing the door fully open and slipping out into the bright afternoon heat.

skateboarding and the entire gritty, loud, patches-on-denim punk aesthetic was pretty much your entire personality at this point. your school bag was practically held together by safety pins and band badges, your oversized plaid shirts were permanently frayed at the cuffs, and you spent more time looking at the concrete under your wheels than looking at the chalkboard. keonho, on the other hand, was the walking definition of a golden retriever who had somehow gotten tangled up in a ball of yarn. he was clumsy to a fault—tripping over flat surfaces, dropping his pens every five minutes, and somehow managing to bump into the same doorframe every single morning (you can confirm that, actually).

but he wanted to learn how to skate. mostly because he loved watching you do it, and partly because he had this romanticised vision of the two of you cruising down the streets together like some cool indie movie duo.

you walked over to the flat concrete stretch behind the old gym equipment shed—a spot hidden from the main windows where the ground was relatively smooth. you dropped your board with a satisfying clack, the skull-and-crossbones graphic on the bottom scratching slightly against the pavement.

“alright, pretty boy,” you said, crossing your arms and looking at him with an authoritative tilt of your head. “rule number one: keep your center of gravity low. if you stand up straight like a surfboard, you’re gonna eat dirt.”

“low center of gravity. got it. i am the concrete. i am one with the earth,” keonho muttered, doing a bizarre, stiff-legged squat that made him look less like a skater and more like a malfunctioning robot.

“stop doing that, you look insane,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “just put your dominant foot forward. put it right over the front screws. yeah, like that. now push off gently with your other foot.”

keonho took a deep breath, his face contorting into an expression of intense, life-or-death concentration. he placed his left foot on the board. it shifted slightly. his eyes widened.

“wait, yn, it’s moving—why is it moving?”

“because it has wheels, keonho, that’s how physics works!” you shouted, laughing as you stepped closer to grab his hands. “just balance. look at me, don’t look at your feet.”

he gripped your hands like they were a lifeline, his palms warm against yours. for a second, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and the sudden closeness made your chest do a stupid, erratic flutter. he was smiling, that crooked, breathtaking smile that always made you forget for a split second that you were supposed to be the tough, unbothered cool girl of his dreams.

“i’m doing it,” he gasped, his feet wobbly on the board as it rolled forward at approximately two miles per hour. “look at me, i’m a natural. i’m literally tony hawk—”

and then, because the universe had a weird sense of humor and also because ahn keonho was inherently cursed, his back foot tried to find the tail of the board, missed completely, and caught on a tiny, microscopic pebble.

everything happened in a split-second blur of limbs and gravity.

keonho’s arms flailed wildly, his balance completely evaporating. in his panic, instead of letting go, he clamped his hands tighter around yours, pulling you right down into his chaotic descent. you didn’t even have time to yell. you just felt the sudden, violent—albeit familiar—rush of the ground coming up to meet you.

keonho hit the concrete first, falling awkwardly backward and sideways, throwing his hands out instinctively to break his fall—which was the absolute number one rule of what not to do when you crash. you pitched forward right over him, your knees slamming hard against the rough pavement, the fabric of your light blue uniform pants tearing open with a loud rip as the coarse ground chewed right into your skin.

for a long moment, there was just the sound of the skateboard rolling away until it hit a chain-link fence with a dull thud, and the heavy, synchronised panting of the two of you lying in a tangled heap on the floor.

“ow,” you groaned, wincing as a sharp sting radiated from both of your knees. you sat up slowly, looking down to see two huge, jagged tears in your pants, the skin underneath already bright red and oozing a tiny bit of blood mixed with dirt. “well, there goes my good pair of pants.”

but when you looked over at keonho to complain, he wasn’t moving. he was sitting up, cradling both of his hands against his chest, his face completely pale and his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and sheer disbelief.

“yn,” he squeaked, his voice a full octave higher than usual. “yn, look at my fingers. why are they looking at me like that?”

you leaned closer, squinting at his hands, and immediately let out a sharp intake of breath. both of his pinky fingers were bent at a horrific, unnatural angle, sticking out sideways like two broken twigs. he had landed awkwardly on the outermost edges of his hands with all his weight.

you stared at his fingers. then, you looked at your bloody, torn knees. then, you looked back at his pale, horrified face.

and finally, because the situation was so utterly absurd, you started to giggle.

“are you... are you laughing at my impending death?” keonho gasped, though a hysterical bubble of laughter was already rising in his own chest.

“you fractured your pinkies!” you howled, pressing a hand over your mouth as the sheer ridiculousness of the sight washed over you. “both of them! at the exact same time! how are you even physically capable of doing that?! i’ve been skating for years and the most i’ve managed is a sprained ankle!”

“i told you i was a delicate flower!” he yelled back, though he was laughing so hard now that his shoulders were shaking, which only made his hands hurt more, causing him to wince and laugh simultaneously. “oh god, it hurts so bad, but look at them! they look like boomerangs! yn, i broke my hands trying to stand on a piece of wood!”

“we’re so stupid,” you groaned, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye as you carefully pushed yourself up, wincing as your scraped knees protested the movement. “come on, stand up. we need to get to the infirmary before you pass out out of… i don’t know what exactly.”

you managed to hoist him up, his tall frame leaning heavily against you as he kept his hands held up in the air like a praying mantis, terrified of touching anything. you hobbled together back toward the school building, a thoroughly pathetic sight—a girl with shredded pants and bloody knees, and a boy in a neon green hoodie holding his broken fingers up like trophies.

you didn’t even make it to the main building before you ran straight into juhoon.

kim juhoon was a senior, exactly one year older than you both, and he carried himself with the permanent aura of a tired middle-aged father who had three mortgages and a troubled teenage son (which, you supposed, keonho technically was). he was holding a stack of papers, probably running an errand for the student council, when he spotted the two of you limping across the lawn.

he stopped dead in his tracks. his eyes slowly traveled from your bloody knees, up to keonho’s raised, crooked pinkies, and finally to your guilty faces. juhoon let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“i leave you two alone for exactly forty-five minutes,” he said, his voice flat, filled with the practiced disappointment of a parent who isn’t even surprised anymore. “what did i say about skipping history? what did i explicitly say, yn?”

“that mr. choi would notice?” you mumbled, suddenly feeling very small.

“and what did you do?”

“we skipped,” keonho whined, shuffling his feet and trying to hide behind you again, which didn’t work at all since he was a head taller than you. “but juhoon-hyung, look! my fingers are broken! look at the angles! i think i’m going to need an amputation!”

juhoon stepped closer, took one look at keonho’s hands, and his stern expression cracked into a mixture of disgust and genuine concern. “jesus christ, keonho. how do you even manage this? did you fight a lawnmower?”

“he fell off my skateboard,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

“and you fell on top of him?” juhoon asked, gesturing to your knees.

“something like that.”

“unbelievable,” juhoon muttered, but he immediately dropped his papers onto a nearby bench and stepped into action. he grabbed keonho by the elbow, being careful not to jostle his hands, and put his other arm around your shoulder to help support your weight. “come on, you two idiots. let’s get to the infirmary before the principal sees you and adds suspension to your medical bills.”

as he led you down the hallway, he kept up a steady stream of playful scolding. “i swear, when you two finally get married, your wedding registry is just going to be a list of premium health insurance plans and bubble wrap. i’m not going to be the godfather of your kids because i refuse to watch them inherit this exact lack of survival instincts.”

your face flushed instantly at the word married, and you looked away, focusing very hard on the tiled floor. next to you, keonho let out a loud, dramatic whine. “hyung, don’t talk about our marriage right now, my pinkies are experiencing a mid-life crisis! they’re pointing north and south!”

“shut up and walk, keonho,” juhoon sighed, but there was a fond, amused smile on his face as he pushed open the door to the school infirmary.

the school nurse took one look at keonho’s hands and immediately reached for the landline phone on her desk to call an ambulance.

“i can set simple sprains, but those are completely fractured, possibly displaced,” she said briskly, already pulling out a roll of gauze and some antiseptic wipes. “he needs x-rays and proper splints immediately. and you,” she pointed at you, “sit on the cot. let’s clean those knees before you get an infection.”

juhoon stayed just long enough to ensure you both were being taken care of, shaking his head one last time. “i have to get back to class before they think i got kidnapped. yn, make sure he doesn’t try to high-five anyone on the way to the hospital. keonho, stop crying, you’re nearly six feet tall, and you’ve had worse injuries from slamming yourself to the walls of the swimming pool by mistake anyway.”

“i’m not crying, it’s just eye sweat!” keonho yelled after him as juhoon left the room.

the nurse quickly cleaned your knees, the sting of the alcohol wipe making you hiss through your teeth and grip the edges of the mattress. keonho, despite being in significantly more pain, spent the entire time watching you with wide, worried eyes.

“does it hurt bad, yn?” he asked softly, his voice dropping its dramatic edge for a second, replaced by something genuinely tender that made your heart do that stupid flip again.

“i’m fine, pretty boy. i’ve had worse scrapes than this just falling off curbs,” you muttered, looking down at your ruined pants. “you’re the one who needs to worry. you’re about to ride in a flashing-lights party wagon.”

“hey, at least we can cross off ambulance ride from our bucket list!”

“oh yeah, true.”

since the school couldn’t leave a student unattended and both of your parents were currently at work, the nurse declared that she would accompany keonho in the ambulance, and since you were already injured and involved, you were shoved right into the back with them.

the ride to the hospital was a chaotic mix of siren wails and keonho’s non-stop rambling. the paramedic in the back had given him a temporary ice pack to hold against his hands, but the movement of the vehicle kept jarring his fingers, making him whine loudly.

“yn, it hurts. it really, really hurts,” he complained, shifting restlessly on the gurney. his eyes were slightly glossy now, the initial adrenaline fully wearing off. “distract me. please. talk to me about literally anything. tell me about the chord progressions of that one clash song you love. tell me about why you hate mainstream radio. just talk please.”

the nurse gave you a look that clearly said please quiet him down, so you sighed, leaning forward from your seat next to the gurney. you reached out, intending to pat his arm, but because he was looking so thoroughly pathetic, you ended up just letting your hand rest against his forearm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the neon green fabric.

“alright, alright, listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice low and steady. “did you know that the bassline in ‘london calling’ was actually improvised during the first studio take because the bassist forgot the original arrangement?”

“really?” keonho blinked, his focus immediately shifting to your face.

“yeah. and remember that gig we went to last month? the one where the lead singer accidentally kicked his own microphone stand into the crowd and hit a guy in a furry costume?”

keonho let out a weak, breathy laugh, his fingers twitching slightly against the ice pack. “yeah... yeah, i remember. the furry didn’t even get mad, he just started moshing harder.”

“yeah,” you smiled, your thumb unconsciously smoothing over the fabric of his sleeve. “and remember when you tried to buy that vintage leather jacket online and it arrived and it was literally sized for a chihuahua?”

“hey! the listing said ‘small’!” he retorted, though his face was breaking into a genuine grin now, the pain clearly pushed to the back of his mind as he focused entirely on the sound of your voice. “i gave it to cookie. he looked incredibly hardcore in it.”

“he looked terrifying, keonho.”

you kept talking, spinning ridiculous stories and reminding him of all the stupid things you’d done together over the past decade of being inseparable. by the time the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance, keonho was so engaged in arguing with you about whether or not pineapples belonged on a pizza that he barely even noticed the paramedics wheeling him through the automatic sliding doors.

the hospital visit took hours. the doctors had to take multiple x-rays, confirm that both pinkies were indeed fractured (you didn’t need a degree and a white coat to conclude that, though), and then begin the tedious process of straightening them out and wrapping them in sturdy, rigid splints that made his hands look like he was permanently giving a clumsy, stiff-fingered salute.

you stayed by his side the entire time, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his bed, your torn knees feeling stiff and itchy under the clean bandages the nurse had applied. keonho’s parents had been called, but they were stuck in a massive traffic jam on the highway after leaving their offices, leaving you as his sole guardian and entertainer.

“look at me,” keonho whispered hoarsely after the doctor finally finished wrapping his hands. he held up both of his arms, his pinkies sticking out stiffly like the antennae of a very confused insect. “how am i supposed to play video games, yn? how am i supposed to text you that i miss you when i’m bored in class?”

“you can use your thumbs like a normal person, you drama queen,” you laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. “and you shouldn’t be texting me in class anyway. look where skipping got us today.”

“it got us an adventure,” he retorted, pouting as he looked down at his lap. then, his voice softened, turning quiet and slightly hesitant. “thanks for staying with me. seriously. i know you don’t like hospitals.”

you looked at him, taking in the way his messy brown hair fell into his eyes, the slight redness around his nose, and the absolute vulnerability in his expression. the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug was so strong it made your palms ache. you felt that familiar, heavy warmth spreading through your chest—the one you’d been trying to ignore for years around him. you were completely, utterly head over heels for this clumsy idiot—your clumsy idiot.

“i wouldn’t leave you alone here,” you said softly, your usual tough exterior melting away entirely. “who else is going to make sure you don’t accidentally swallow a tongue depressor?”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “true. i am a liability, i guess.”

by the time the discharge paperwork was finally sorted out, the sun had long since set, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and navy. keonho’s parents had called to say they were finally near the house and told you both to just take the subway home since the station was right next to the hospital and led straight to your neighborhood.

walking out into the cool evening air, the atmosphere felt different. the rush of the school day was gone, replaced by the quiet, humming energy of the city at night. the subway station was packed with the usual evening rush-hour crowd—salarymen in suits, students from other schools, and shoppers all pushing their way toward the platforms. as soon as you stepped onto the crowded train, the sheer volume of people made you instantly alert.

keonho was standing next to you, looking incredibly vulnerable as he tried to navigate the sea of bodies without letting anyone bump into his freshly splinted hands. he was holding his arms close to his chest, his face tense with worry.

“don’t worry, i got you,” you muttered.

since you couldn’t hold his hand without risking hurting his fingers, you stepped up right behind him. you reached out and firmly grabbed the sturdy canvas belt loop at the back of his school pants.

keonho stiffened for a fraction of a second before he realised what you were doing. he looked back over his shoulder, a massive, delighted grin breaking across his face. “are you walking me like a dog, sweetheart?”

“what i’m doing is keeping you from straying away into the crowd and getting trampled by a businessman, shut up,” you hissed, your cheeks burning red as a few people nearby glanced at you with amused expressions. “just move when i move.”

“aye, aye, captain,” he chuckled.

as the train jolted forward, throwing everyone slightly off balance, keonho instinctively shifted his weight, using his broad shoulders and tall frame to create a small, protective pocket of space around you. he backed up just enough to shield you from the crowded rush, his body acting as a barrier against the rest of the carriage, while you kept your tight grip on his belt loop, anchoring him to you.

it was a ridiculous system, but as you stood there, feeling the steady warmth of his back against your front, the rhythmic clack-clack of the train tracks underneath, and the quiet security of him protecting you while you guided him, you wished the train ride would never end.

by the time you both walked through the front door of keonho’s house, you were both completely exhausted.

“we’re home!” keonho kicked his shoes off with a groan, immediately stumbling into the living room and face-planting directly onto the soft leather couch.

his parents were already there, his mom coming out of the kitchen with an apron on, and his dad sitting at the dining table with a newspaper. both of them looked up, taking in the sight of their son face-down on the cushions with his hands sticking out awkwardly, and you limping in behind him with bandage-wrapped knees and torn pants.

“oh, my goodness,” his mom gasped, though there was a distinct note of amusement in her voice as she walked over. “the nurse explained it on the phone, but seeing it is something else. keonho, how do you manage to break both?”

“it’s a talent, mom,” keonho muffled into the pillow. “an elite, specialised talent.”

his dad walked over, standing over the couch with his hands on his hips, looking down at his son before looking at you. “yn, thank you for bringing our disaster home. did you have to pay extra for the ambulance, or do they give you a frequent flyer discount at this point?”

“dad!” keonho whined, rolling over onto his back and pouting dramatically. “i’m a patient! i’m traumatised! i demand sympathy and sustenance!”

“you demand a lot of things for a boy who can’t even tie his own shoes right now,” his dad teased, laughing as he patted you on the shoulder. “go sit down, yn. you look beat. thank you for looking after him.”

you smiled, bowing slightly. “ah, it’s fine, mr. ahn. i was the one who brought the skateboard, so it’s kind of my fault anyway.”

“nonsense, he’s been tripping over his own feet since he was three,” his mom said gently, heading back to the kitchen. “i made dinner. yn, you’re staying, right? your mom already called and said she’s working late anyway.”

“yes, please. thank you,” you said, gratefully sinking into the armchair next to the couch.

when dinner was set on the table, the reality of keonho’s injury truly set in. he sat at the table, staring down at the bowl of rice and the various side dishes, then looked at his splinted pinkies, which prevented him from properly gripping his chopsticks without shooting sharp pains up his wrists.

he let out a heavy, pathetic sigh, looking over at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “yn…”

“do not look at me like that,” you said, already chewing on a piece of rolled omelette.

“i can’t use my hands…” he pouted, leaning his head close to your shoulder. “i’m gonna starve. i’m going to wither away right here in this dining room, and my ghost will haunt you and your really cool skateboard forever.”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, but you completely gave in, letting out a soft laugh as you picked up your spoon. you scooped up a perfect bite of rice, topped it with a piece of seasoned beef, and held it up to his mouth. “here. eat, you giant baby.”

keonho’s face lit up instantly. he leaned forward and took the bite, chewing happily with a triumphant expression that made his dad scoff from across the table.

“you’re spoiling him, yn,” his dad joked, shaking his head. “if you keep doing everything for him, he’s never going to learn how to survive.”

“she’s not spoiling me, dad, she loves me,” keonho mumbled around his food, his words careless and light, but they made your hand freeze for a split second before you quickly scooped up another bite to shove into his mouth to quiet him down.

“shut up and just chew, pretty boy,” you muttered, your ears burning hot.

across the table, his mom and dad exchanged a brief, knowing look, their lips curving into synchronised, secret smiles. they had watched the two of you grow up together, watched the way keonho’s eyes followed you around the room, and the way you always softened your tough exterior whenever he was around. they knew exactly what was going on, even if the two of you were still too stubborn to admit it.

after dinner, keonho’s parents suddenly announced they were heading out for a late-night walk and to run some errands down at the late-night mart.

“we might be a while,” his dad said, grabbing his jacket and giving keonho a heavy, highly suspicious wink that made keonho’s cheeks instantly turn a bright, embarrassed red. “take care of your hands, son. try not to break anything else while we’re gone. especially not yn’s patience.”

“dad, just leave!” keonho groaned, hiding his face in the collar of his hoodie.

his mom chuckled, gently pulling her husband out the front door. “we’ll be back in an hour or two. the snacks are in the pantry!”

as the front door clicked shut, leaving the house suddenly quiet, the atmosphere shifted instantly. the playful, loud family energy evaporated, leaving just the two of you sitting on the floor of the living room, leaning against the base of the couch.

the tv was playing in the background—you had flipped on an episode of haikyuu!!, the bright animation and squeaking sneakers providing a comfortable background noise.

you had a bag of potato chips sitting between your legs, carefully feeding keonho a chip every time he opened his mouth like a baby bird.

“you know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the screen where hinata was pulling off a crazy spike after kageyama’s set. “today was a total disaster.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” keonho murmured. he shifted closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. without his usual dramatic whining, his voice was surprisingly low, thick with the quiet intimacy of the night. “i mean, yeah, my fingers hurt like hell… but i got to spend the whole day with you.”

“you spend every day with me,” you pointed out, though your heart was beginning to thump loudly against your ribs.

“it’s different,” he said. he turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering blue light of the television. “yn... when i was falling today, the only thing i was really thinking about wasn’t that the concrete was going to hurt. i was just worried that i was going to pull you down and hurt you, which i guess i ended up doing anyway. sorry.”

you stopped your hand halfway into the chip bag, your breath catching in your throat. “keonho…”

“and then when you laughed,” he continued, a soft, incredibly tender smile touching his lips, “i just thought... man, i am so completely in love with her. broken fingers and scraped knees and everything in between.”

the living room seemed to lose all its sound. the anime on the tv faded into a blur of colors. you stared at him, your heart hammering so hard you were certain he could hear it.

“are you... are you serious?” you whispered, your fingers trembling slightly against the plastic bag.

“i’m always serious about you, sweetheart,” he said softly, his usual playful demeanor completely gone, leaving only pure, unadulterated honesty. “i’ve liked you for so long. i like your stupid leather jackets, i like your loud music, and i like how you always take care of me even when i’m being an idiot—especially then. you don’t have to say anything back, i just... i really wanted you to know.”

you felt a tear prick the corner of your eye, a sudden rush of overwhelming warmth spilling through your chest. you dropped the bag of chips onto the floor, ignoring the way a few spilled out onto the rug.

“you’re such a dummy,” you choked out, a watery laugh escaping your lips as you reached up, carefully cupping his face with both of your hands, being mindful of his raised arms. “you think i’d stay in a boring hospital for hours for just anyone? you think i’d let anyone else call me sweetheart?”

keonho’s eyes widened, a sudden, brilliant spark of hope igniting in them. “yn…”

“i love you too, pretty boy,” you confessed, your voice steady and full of conviction. “i’ve loved you since you tried to protect me from a stray cat when we were seven and ended up getting scratched on the nose. you’re clumsy, you’re whiny, and you’re completely ridiculous, but you’re mine.”

keonho let out a breathless, joyful laugh, his entire face lighting up in a way that made him look absolutely beautiful. he leaned forward instinctively, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, clumsy, thoroughly perfect first kiss. it tasted like salt from the chips and the quiet warmth of the living room.

but because keonho was… keonho, as he tried to shift his weight closer to you, his rigid, splinted right pinky finger caught against the edge of the couch cushion.

“ow! ow, ow, ow!” he suddenly pulled back, hissing through his teeth and cradling his hand close to his chest, his face contorting into a pained grimace.

“oh my god—are you okay?!” you gasped, instantly panicking as you grabbed his wrists, trying to check the bandages. “did you bend it again? do we need to go back to the hospital?!”

you were practically vibrating with worry, your eyes wide as you checked the splint, only to hear a tiny, stifled sound come from his throat. you looked up. keonho was biting his lower lip, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief as a huge, teasing grin broke across his face.

“gotcha,” he giggled.

“you absolute jerk!” you yelled, your worry instantly evaporating into mock fury. you brought your hand down, hitting him firmly on the shoulder. “i thought you actually re-broke your hand! i was terrified, you asshole!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” he laughed, winding his forearms around your waist—careful to keep his hands pointing outward—and pulling you tightly against his chest. “it just tickled a little, i swear! don’t be mad, sweetheart.”

“i hate you,” you mumbled, but you were already smiling, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“kiss me again to make it better?” he pleaded softly, his breath tickling your ear.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, rolling your eyes before leaning in to press your lips against his again. this time, it was slower, deeper, full of the quiet relief of finally knowing that you belonged to each other. his arms held you close, his stiff fingers resting safely against your back, completely out of harm’s way.

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless and grinning like fools.

you shifted around, pulling the heavy knitted throw blanket off the back of the couch and dragging it over both of you. keonho adjusted his position, lying back against the pillows and pulling you down with him, so your head was resting right against his chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart.

on the tv screen, the karasuno high school volleyball team was still shouting and celebrating a victory, the bright colors washing over the dark living room. you let your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion of the chaotic day finally catching up to you, wrapped completely in keonho’s warmth.

“goodnight, pretty boy,” you whispered into his shirt.

“goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured back, resting his chin lightly on top of your head.

within minutes, the rhythmic sound of your synchronised breathing filled the space between the television dialogue, both of you fast asleep in a tangled, warm heap of bandages and soft blankets.

a long while later, the front door clicked open quietly. keonho’s parents stepped into the house, carrying a plastic bag from the convenience store. his mom walked into the living room first, stopping at the edge of the rug.

she looked at the two of you curled up together on the floor, your head on his chest, his splinted hands resting safely on top of the blanket, and a soft, incredibly fond smile spread across her face.

she walked over on her tiptoes, carefully pulling the edges of the blanket up to cover your shoulders completely, ensuring you both were warm against the late-night chill. she patted keonho’s leg gently, shook her head with a quiet chuckle, and turned off the tv before heading down the hall to bed, leaving the two of you snoring together in the quiet, peaceful dark.

© hyuneskkami ❦

❝ tracklist ❞  ─── lo$er=lo♡er—txt ❦ no celestial—le srfm ❦ misery business—paramore ❦ never stop me—i-dle ❦ lxxk 2 u—yena ❦ basket case—green day ❦ happy death day—xdinary heroes ❦ gives you hell—the all-american rejects ❦ shoot me—day6 ❦ black eye—vernon ❦ sk8er boi—avril lavigne ❦ bump bump—woodz ❦ favorite—isabel larosa ❦ 2 minus 1—svt ❦ glue song—beabadoobee ❦ there she goes—lauran hibberd

the heavy oak doors of the back exit of the high school building creaked just a little too loudly, making both of you freeze in unison. you held your breath, your fingers tightly gripping the worn griptape of your skateboard, while keonho stood right behind you, practically breathing down your neck because he was trying so hard to hide his tall frame behind yours.

“did anyone see?” he whispered, his voice pitching high with that familiar, dramatic anxiety he always got whenever he tried to break a rule.

you rolled your eyes, glancing back at him over your shoulder. your heavy eyeliner flicked upward as you gave him a flat look. “keonho, if anyone saw us, it would be because you’re wearing the loudest neon green hoodie in existence. i told you to wear black.”

“but black absorbs heat, sweetheart, and i am a delicate flower who will melt under the midday sun,” he whined, instantly pouting his lower lip out in that specific way he knew always made you soften, even if you’d never admit it to his face. “besides, you’re the one who promised. you said today. right now. during third period history because mr. choi’s voice sounds like a lawnmower running out of gas.”

“i said i’d teach you how to skateboard, i didn’t say i’d act as a human shield for your giant ass,” you muttered, but a grin tugged at the corner of your lips anyway. you checked the empty courtyard one last time before pushing the door fully open and slipping out into the bright afternoon heat.

skateboarding and the entire gritty, loud, patches-on-denim punk aesthetic was pretty much your entire personality at this point. your school bag was practically held together by safety pins and band badges, your oversized plaid shirts were permanently frayed at the cuffs, and you spent more time looking at the concrete under your wheels than looking at the chalkboard. keonho, on the other hand, was the walking definition of a golden retriever who had somehow gotten tangled up in a ball of yarn. he was clumsy to a fault—tripping over flat surfaces, dropping his pens every five minutes, and somehow managing to bump into the same doorframe every single morning (you can confirm that, actually).

but he wanted to learn how to skate. mostly because he loved watching you do it, and partly because he had this romanticised vision of the two of you cruising down the streets together like some cool indie movie duo.

you walked over to the flat concrete stretch behind the old gym equipment shed—a spot hidden from the main windows where the ground was relatively smooth. you dropped your board with a satisfying clack, the skull-and-crossbones graphic on the bottom scratching slightly against the pavement.

“alright, pretty boy,” you said, crossing your arms and looking at him with an authoritative tilt of your head. “rule number one: keep your center of gravity low. if you stand up straight like a surfboard, you’re gonna eat dirt.”

“low center of gravity. got it. i am the concrete. i am one with the earth,” keonho muttered, doing a bizarre, stiff-legged squat that made him look less like a skater and more like a malfunctioning robot.

“stop doing that, you look insane,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “just put your dominant foot forward. put it right over the front screws. yeah, like that. now push off gently with your other foot.”

keonho took a deep breath, his face contorting into an expression of intense, life-or-death concentration. he placed his left foot on the board. it shifted slightly. his eyes widened.

“wait, yn, it’s moving—why is it moving?”

“because it has wheels, keonho, that’s how physics works!” you shouted, laughing as you stepped closer to grab his hands. “just balance. look at me, don’t look at your feet.”

he gripped your hands like they were a lifeline, his palms warm against yours. for a second, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and the sudden closeness made your chest do a stupid, erratic flutter. he was smiling, that crooked, breathtaking smile that always made you forget for a split second that you were supposed to be the tough, unbothered cool girl of his dreams.

“i’m doing it,” he gasped, his feet wobbly on the board as it rolled forward at approximately two miles per hour. “look at me, i’m a natural. i’m literally tony hawk—”

and then, because the universe had a weird sense of humor and also because ahn keonho was inherently cursed, his back foot tried to find the tail of the board, missed completely, and caught on a tiny, microscopic pebble.

everything happened in a split-second blur of limbs and gravity.

keonho’s arms flailed wildly, his balance completely evaporating. in his panic, instead of letting go, he clamped his hands tighter around yours, pulling you right down into his chaotic descent. you didn’t even have time to yell. you just felt the sudden, violent—albeit familiar—rush of the ground coming up to meet you.

keonho hit the concrete first, falling awkwardly backward and sideways, throwing his hands out instinctively to break his fall—which was the absolute number one rule of what not to do when you crash. you pitched forward right over him, your knees slamming hard against the rough pavement, the fabric of your light blue uniform pants tearing open with a loud rip as the coarse ground chewed right into your skin.

for a long moment, there was just the sound of the skateboard rolling away until it hit a chain-link fence with a dull thud, and the heavy, synchronised panting of the two of you lying in a tangled heap on the floor.

“ow,” you groaned, wincing as a sharp sting radiated from both of your knees. you sat up slowly, looking down to see two huge, jagged tears in your pants, the skin underneath already bright red and oozing a tiny bit of blood mixed with dirt. “well, there goes my good pair of pants.”

but when you looked over at keonho to complain, he wasn’t moving. he was sitting up, cradling both of his hands against his chest, his face completely pale and his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and sheer disbelief.

“yn,” he squeaked, his voice a full octave higher than usual. “yn, look at my fingers. why are they looking at me like that?”

you leaned closer, squinting at his hands, and immediately let out a sharp intake of breath. both of his pinky fingers were bent at a horrific, unnatural angle, sticking out sideways like two broken twigs. he had landed awkwardly on the outermost edges of his hands with all his weight.

you stared at his fingers. then, you looked at your bloody, torn knees. then, you looked back at his pale, horrified face.

and finally, because the situation was so utterly absurd, you started to giggle.

“are you... are you laughing at my impending death?” keonho gasped, though a hysterical bubble of laughter was already rising in his own chest.

“you fractured your pinkies!” you howled, pressing a hand over your mouth as the sheer ridiculousness of the sight washed over you. “both of them! at the exact same time! how are you even physically capable of doing that?! i’ve been skating for years and the most i’ve managed is a sprained ankle!”

“i told you i was a delicate flower!” he yelled back, though he was laughing so hard now that his shoulders were shaking, which only made his hands hurt more, causing him to wince and laugh simultaneously. “oh god, it hurts so bad, but look at them! they look like boomerangs! yn, i broke my hands trying to stand on a piece of wood!”

“we’re so stupid,” you groaned, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye as you carefully pushed yourself up, wincing as your scraped knees protested the movement. “come on, stand up. we need to get to the infirmary before you pass out out of… i don’t know what exactly.”

you managed to hoist him up, his tall frame leaning heavily against you as he kept his hands held up in the air like a praying mantis, terrified of touching anything. you hobbled together back toward the school building, a thoroughly pathetic sight—a girl with shredded pants and bloody knees, and a boy in a neon green hoodie holding his broken fingers up like trophies.

you didn’t even make it to the main building before you ran straight into juhoon.

kim juhoon was a senior, exactly one year older than you both, and he carried himself with the permanent aura of a tired middle-aged father who had three mortgages and a troubled teenage son (which, you supposed, keonho technically was). he was holding a stack of papers, probably running an errand for the student council, when he spotted the two of you limping across the lawn.

he stopped dead in his tracks. his eyes slowly traveled from your bloody knees, up to keonho’s raised, crooked pinkies, and finally to your guilty faces. juhoon let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“i leave you two alone for exactly forty-five minutes,” he said, his voice flat, filled with the practiced disappointment of a parent who isn’t even surprised anymore. “what did i say about skipping history? what did i explicitly say, yn?”

“that mr. choi would notice?” you mumbled, suddenly feeling very small.

“and what did you do?”

“we skipped,” keonho whined, shuffling his feet and trying to hide behind you again, which didn’t work at all since he was a head taller than you. “but juhoon-hyung, look! my fingers are broken! look at the angles! i think i’m going to need an amputation!”

juhoon stepped closer, took one look at keonho’s hands, and his stern expression cracked into a mixture of disgust and genuine concern. “jesus christ, keonho. how do you even manage this? did you fight a lawnmower?”

“he fell off my skateboard,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

“and you fell on top of him?” juhoon asked, gesturing to your knees.

“something like that.”

“unbelievable,” juhoon muttered, but he immediately dropped his papers onto a nearby bench and stepped into action. he grabbed keonho by the elbow, being careful not to jostle his hands, and put his other arm around your shoulder to help support your weight. “come on, you two idiots. let’s get to the infirmary before the principal sees you and adds suspension to your medical bills.”

as he led you down the hallway, he kept up a steady stream of playful scolding. “i swear, when you two finally get married, your wedding registry is just going to be a list of premium health insurance plans and bubble wrap. i’m not going to be the godfather of your kids because i refuse to watch them inherit this exact lack of survival instincts.”

your face flushed instantly at the word married, and you looked away, focusing very hard on the tiled floor. next to you, keonho let out a loud, dramatic whine. “hyung, don’t talk about our marriage right now, my pinkies are experiencing a mid-life crisis! they’re pointing north and south!”

“shut up and walk, keonho,” juhoon sighed, but there was a fond, amused smile on his face as he pushed open the door to the school infirmary.

the school nurse took one look at keonho’s hands and immediately reached for the landline phone on her desk to call an ambulance.

“i can set simple sprains, but those are completely fractured, possibly displaced,” she said briskly, already pulling out a roll of gauze and some antiseptic wipes. “he needs x-rays and proper splints immediately. and you,” she pointed at you, “sit on the cot. let’s clean those knees before you get an infection.”

juhoon stayed just long enough to ensure you both were being taken care of, shaking his head one last time. “i have to get back to class before they think i got kidnapped. yn, make sure he doesn’t try to high-five anyone on the way to the hospital. keonho, stop crying, you’re nearly six feet tall, and you’ve had worse injuries from slamming yourself to the walls of the swimming pool by mistake anyway.”

“i’m not crying, it’s just eye sweat!” keonho yelled after him as juhoon left the room.

the nurse quickly cleaned your knees, the sting of the alcohol wipe making you hiss through your teeth and grip the edges of the mattress. keonho, despite being in significantly more pain, spent the entire time watching you with wide, worried eyes.

“does it hurt bad, yn?” he asked softly, his voice dropping its dramatic edge for a second, replaced by something genuinely tender that made your heart do that stupid flip again.

“i’m fine, pretty boy. i’ve had worse scrapes than this just falling off curbs,” you muttered, looking down at your ruined pants. “you’re the one who needs to worry. you’re about to ride in a flashing-lights party wagon.”

“hey, at least we can cross off ambulance ride from our bucket list!”

“oh yeah, true.”

since the school couldn’t leave a student unattended and both of your parents were currently at work, the nurse declared that she would accompany keonho in the ambulance, and since you were already injured and involved, you were shoved right into the back with them.

the ride to the hospital was a chaotic mix of siren wails and keonho’s non-stop rambling. the paramedic in the back had given him a temporary ice pack to hold against his hands, but the movement of the vehicle kept jarring his fingers, making him whine loudly.

“yn, it hurts. it really, really hurts,” he complained, shifting restlessly on the gurney. his eyes were slightly glossy now, the initial adrenaline fully wearing off. “distract me. please. talk to me about literally anything. tell me about the chord progressions of that one clash song you love. tell me about why you hate mainstream radio. just talk please.”

the nurse gave you a look that clearly said please quiet him down, so you sighed, leaning forward from your seat next to the gurney. you reached out, intending to pat his arm, but because he was looking so thoroughly pathetic, you ended up just letting your hand rest against his forearm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the neon green fabric.

“alright, alright, listen to me,” you said, keeping your voice low and steady. “did you know that the bassline in ‘london calling’ was actually improvised during the first studio take because the bassist forgot the original arrangement?”

“really?” keonho blinked, his focus immediately shifting to your face.

“yeah. and remember that gig we went to last month? the one where the lead singer accidentally kicked his own microphone stand into the crowd and hit a guy in a furry costume?”

keonho let out a weak, breathy laugh, his fingers twitching slightly against the ice pack. “yeah... yeah, i remember. the furry didn’t even get mad, he just started moshing harder.”

“yeah,” you smiled, your thumb unconsciously smoothing over the fabric of his sleeve. “and remember when you tried to buy that vintage leather jacket online and it arrived and it was literally sized for a chihuahua?”

“hey! the listing said ‘small’!” he retorted, though his face was breaking into a genuine grin now, the pain clearly pushed to the back of his mind as he focused entirely on the sound of your voice. “i gave it to cookie. he looked incredibly hardcore in it.”

“he looked terrifying, keonho.”

you kept talking, spinning ridiculous stories and reminding him of all the stupid things you’d done together over the past decade of being inseparable. by the time the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance, keonho was so engaged in arguing with you about whether or not pineapples belonged on a pizza that he barely even noticed the paramedics wheeling him through the automatic sliding doors.

the hospital visit took hours. the doctors had to take multiple x-rays, confirm that both pinkies were indeed fractured (you didn’t need a degree and a white coat to conclude that, though), and then begin the tedious process of straightening them out and wrapping them in sturdy, rigid splints that made his hands look like he was permanently giving a clumsy, stiff-fingered salute.

you stayed by his side the entire time, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his bed, your torn knees feeling stiff and itchy under the clean bandages the nurse had applied. keonho’s parents had been called, but they were stuck in a massive traffic jam on the highway after leaving their offices, leaving you as his sole guardian and entertainer.

“look at me,” keonho whispered hoarsely after the doctor finally finished wrapping his hands. he held up both of his arms, his pinkies sticking out stiffly like the antennae of a very confused insect. “how am i supposed to play video games, yn? how am i supposed to text you that i miss you when i’m bored in class?”

“you can use your thumbs like a normal person, you drama queen,” you laughed, leaning your head back against the wall. “and you shouldn’t be texting me in class anyway. look where skipping got us today.”

“it got us an adventure,” he retorted, pouting as he looked down at his lap. then, his voice softened, turning quiet and slightly hesitant. “thanks for staying with me. seriously. i know you don’t like hospitals.”

you looked at him, taking in the way his messy brown hair fell into his eyes, the slight redness around his nose, and the absolute vulnerability in his expression. the urge to reach out and pull him into a hug was so strong it made your palms ache. you felt that familiar, heavy warmth spreading through your chest—the one you’d been trying to ignore for years around him. you were completely, utterly head over heels for this clumsy idiot—your clumsy idiot.

“i wouldn’t leave you alone here,” you said softly, your usual tough exterior melting away entirely. “who else is going to make sure you don’t accidentally swallow a tongue depressor?”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “true. i am a liability, i guess.”

by the time the discharge paperwork was finally sorted out, the sun had long since set, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and navy. keonho’s parents had called to say they were finally near the house and told you both to just take the subway home since the station was right next to the hospital and led straight to your neighborhood.

walking out into the cool evening air, the atmosphere felt different. the rush of the school day was gone, replaced by the quiet, humming energy of the city at night. the subway station was packed with the usual evening rush-hour crowd—salarymen in suits, students from other schools, and shoppers all pushing their way toward the platforms. as soon as you stepped onto the crowded train, the sheer volume of people made you instantly alert.

keonho was standing next to you, looking incredibly vulnerable as he tried to navigate the sea of bodies without letting anyone bump into his freshly splinted hands. he was holding his arms close to his chest, his face tense with worry.

“don’t worry, i got you,” you muttered.

since you couldn’t hold his hand without risking hurting his fingers, you stepped up right behind him. you reached out and firmly grabbed the sturdy canvas belt loop at the back of his school pants.

keonho stiffened for a fraction of a second before he realised what you were doing. he looked back over his shoulder, a massive, delighted grin breaking across his face. “are you walking me like a dog, sweetheart?”

“what i’m doing is keeping you from straying away into the crowd and getting trampled by a businessman, shut up,” you hissed, your cheeks burning red as a few people nearby glanced at you with amused expressions. “just move when i move.”

“aye, aye, captain,” he chuckled.

as the train jolted forward, throwing everyone slightly off balance, keonho instinctively shifted his weight, using his broad shoulders and tall frame to create a small, protective pocket of space around you. he backed up just enough to shield you from the crowded rush, his body acting as a barrier against the rest of the carriage, while you kept your tight grip on his belt loop, anchoring him to you.

it was a ridiculous system, but as you stood there, feeling the steady warmth of his back against your front, the rhythmic clack-clack of the train tracks underneath, and the quiet security of him protecting you while you guided him, you wished the train ride would never end.

by the time you both walked through the front door of keonho’s house, you were both completely exhausted.

“we’re home!” keonho kicked his shoes off with a groan, immediately stumbling into the living room and face-planting directly onto the soft leather couch.

his parents were already there, his mom coming out of the kitchen with an apron on, and his dad sitting at the dining table with a newspaper. both of them looked up, taking in the sight of their son face-down on the cushions with his hands sticking out awkwardly, and you limping in behind him with bandage-wrapped knees and torn pants.

“oh, my goodness,” his mom gasped, though there was a distinct note of amusement in her voice as she walked over. “the nurse explained it on the phone, but seeing it is something else. keonho, how do you manage to break both?”

“it’s a talent, mom,” keonho muffled into the pillow. “an elite, specialised talent.”

his dad walked over, standing over the couch with his hands on his hips, looking down at his son before looking at you. “yn, thank you for bringing our disaster home. did you have to pay extra for the ambulance, or do they give you a frequent flyer discount at this point?”

“dad!” keonho whined, rolling over onto his back and pouting dramatically. “i’m a patient! i’m traumatised! i demand sympathy and sustenance!”

“you demand a lot of things for a boy who can’t even tie his own shoes right now,” his dad teased, laughing as he patted you on the shoulder. “go sit down, yn. you look beat. thank you for looking after him.”

you smiled, bowing slightly. “ah, it’s fine, mr. ahn. i was the one who brought the skateboard, so it’s kind of my fault anyway.”

“nonsense, he’s been tripping over his own feet since he was three,” his mom said gently, heading back to the kitchen. “i made dinner. yn, you’re staying, right? your mom already called and said she’s working late anyway.”

“yes, please. thank you,” you said, gratefully sinking into the armchair next to the couch.

when dinner was set on the table, the reality of keonho’s injury truly set in. he sat at the table, staring down at the bowl of rice and the various side dishes, then looked at his splinted pinkies, which prevented him from properly gripping his chopsticks without shooting sharp pains up his wrists.

he let out a heavy, pathetic sigh, looking over at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “yn…”

“do not look at me like that,” you said, already chewing on a piece of rolled omelette.

“i can’t use my hands…” he pouted, leaning his head close to your shoulder. “i’m gonna starve. i’m going to wither away right here in this dining room, and my ghost will haunt you and your really cool skateboard forever.”

“you’re so annoying,” you muttered, but you completely gave in, letting out a soft laugh as you picked up your spoon. you scooped up a perfect bite of rice, topped it with a piece of seasoned beef, and held it up to his mouth. “here. eat, you giant baby.”

keonho’s face lit up instantly. he leaned forward and took the bite, chewing happily with a triumphant expression that made his dad scoff from across the table.

“you’re spoiling him, yn,” his dad joked, shaking his head. “if you keep doing everything for him, he’s never going to learn how to survive.”

“she’s not spoiling me, dad, she loves me,” keonho mumbled around his food, his words careless and light, but they made your hand freeze for a split second before you quickly scooped up another bite to shove into his mouth to quiet him down.

“shut up and just chew, pretty boy,” you muttered, your ears burning hot.

across the table, his mom and dad exchanged a brief, knowing look, their lips curving into synchronised, secret smiles. they had watched the two of you grow up together, watched the way keonho’s eyes followed you around the room, and the way you always softened your tough exterior whenever he was around. they knew exactly what was going on, even if the two of you were still too stubborn to admit it.

after dinner, keonho’s parents suddenly announced they were heading out for a late-night walk and to run some errands down at the late-night mart.

“we might be a while,” his dad said, grabbing his jacket and giving keonho a heavy, highly suspicious wink that made keonho’s cheeks instantly turn a bright, embarrassed red. “take care of your hands, son. try not to break anything else while we’re gone. especially not yn’s patience.”

“dad, just leave!” keonho groaned, hiding his face in the collar of his hoodie.

his mom chuckled, gently pulling her husband out the front door. “we’ll be back in an hour or two. the snacks are in the pantry!”

as the front door clicked shut, leaving the house suddenly quiet, the atmosphere shifted instantly. the playful, loud family energy evaporated, leaving just the two of you sitting on the floor of the living room, leaning against the base of the couch.

the tv was playing in the background—you had flipped on an episode of haikyuu!!, the bright animation and squeaking sneakers providing a comfortable background noise.

you had a bag of potato chips sitting between your legs, carefully feeding keonho a chip every time he opened his mouth like a baby bird.

“you know,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the screen where hinata was pulling off a crazy spike after kageyama’s set. “today was a total disaster.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” keonho murmured. he shifted closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. without his usual dramatic whining, his voice was surprisingly low, thick with the quiet intimacy of the night. “i mean, yeah, my fingers hurt like hell… but i got to spend the whole day with you.”

“you spend every day with me,” you pointed out, though your heart was beginning to thump loudly against your ribs.

“it’s different,” he said. he turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering blue light of the television. “yn... when i was falling today, the only thing i was really thinking about wasn’t that the concrete was going to hurt. i was just worried that i was going to pull you down and hurt you, which i guess i ended up doing anyway. sorry.”

you stopped your hand halfway into the chip bag, your breath catching in your throat. “keonho…”

“and then when you laughed,” he continued, a soft, incredibly tender smile touching his lips, “i just thought... man, i am so completely in love with her. broken fingers and scraped knees and everything in between.”

the living room seemed to lose all its sound. the anime on the tv faded into a blur of colors. you stared at him, your heart hammering so hard you were certain he could hear it.

“are you... are you serious?” you whispered, your fingers trembling slightly against the plastic bag.

“i’m always serious about you, sweetheart,” he said softly, his usual playful demeanor completely gone, leaving only pure, unadulterated honesty. “i’ve liked you for so long. i like your stupid leather jackets, i like your loud music, and i like how you always take care of me even when i’m being an idiot—especially then. you don’t have to say anything back, i just... i really wanted you to know.”

you felt a tear prick the corner of your eye, a sudden rush of overwhelming warmth spilling through your chest. you dropped the bag of chips onto the floor, ignoring the way a few spilled out onto the rug.

“you’re such a dummy,” you choked out, a watery laugh escaping your lips as you reached up, carefully cupping his face with both of your hands, being mindful of his raised arms. “you think i’d stay in a boring hospital for hours for just anyone? you think i’d let anyone else call me sweetheart?”

keonho’s eyes widened, a sudden, brilliant spark of hope igniting in them. “yn…”

“i love you too, pretty boy,” you confessed, your voice steady and full of conviction. “i’ve loved you since you tried to protect me from a stray cat when we were seven and ended up getting scratched on the nose. you’re clumsy, you’re whiny, and you’re completely ridiculous, but you’re mine.”

keonho let out a breathless, joyful laugh, his entire face lighting up in a way that made him look absolutely beautiful. he leaned forward instinctively, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, clumsy, thoroughly perfect first kiss. it tasted like salt from the chips and the quiet warmth of the living room.

but because keonho was… keonho, as he tried to shift his weight closer to you, his rigid, splinted right pinky finger caught against the edge of the couch cushion.

“ow! ow, ow, ow!” he suddenly pulled back, hissing through his teeth and cradling his hand close to his chest, his face contorting into a pained grimace.

“oh my god—are you okay?!” you gasped, instantly panicking as you grabbed his wrists, trying to check the bandages. “did you bend it again? do we need to go back to the hospital?!”

you were practically vibrating with worry, your eyes wide as you checked the splint, only to hear a tiny, stifled sound come from his throat. you looked up. keonho was biting his lower lip, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief as a huge, teasing grin broke across his face.

“gotcha,” he giggled.

“you absolute jerk!” you yelled, your worry instantly evaporating into mock fury. you brought your hand down, hitting him firmly on the shoulder. “i thought you actually re-broke your hand! i was terrified, you asshole!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” he laughed, winding his forearms around your waist—careful to keep his hands pointing outward—and pulling you tightly against his chest. “it just tickled a little, i swear! don’t be mad, sweetheart.”

“i hate you,” you mumbled, but you were already smiling, burying your face into the warmth of his neck.

“kiss me again to make it better?” he pleaded softly, his breath tickling your ear.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, rolling your eyes before leaning in to press your lips against his again. this time, it was slower, deeper, full of the quiet relief of finally knowing that you belonged to each other. his arms held you close, his stiff fingers resting safely against your back, completely out of harm’s way.

when you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless and grinning like fools.

you shifted around, pulling the heavy knitted throw blanket off the back of the couch and dragging it over both of you. keonho adjusted his position, lying back against the pillows and pulling you down with him, so your head was resting right against his chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart.

on the tv screen, the karasuno high school volleyball team was still shouting and celebrating a victory, the bright colors washing over the dark living room. you let your eyes flutter shut, the exhaustion of the chaotic day finally catching up to you, wrapped completely in keonho’s warmth.

“goodnight, pretty boy,” you whispered into his shirt.

“goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmured back, resting his chin lightly on top of your head.

within minutes, the rhythmic sound of your synchronised breathing filled the space between the television dialogue, both of you fast asleep in a tangled, warm heap of bandages and soft blankets.

a long while later, the front door clicked open quietly. keonho’s parents stepped into the house, carrying a plastic bag from the convenience store. his mom walked into the living room first, stopping at the edge of the rug.

she looked at the two of you curled up together on the floor, your head on his chest, his splinted hands resting safely on top of the blanket, and a soft, incredibly fond smile spread across her face.

she walked over on her tiptoes, carefully pulling the edges of the blanket up to cover your shoulders completely, ensuring you both were warm against the late-night chill. she patted keonho’s leg gently, shook her head with a quiet chuckle, and turned off the tv before heading down the hall to bed, leaving the two of you snoring together in the quiet, peaceful dark.

© hyuneskkami ❦