“i told you i could do it. you hate it. look at you.” you laugh as best you could with a sore throat.

“i’m fine. i’m pulling through for you.” but you can see the way he huffs when he comes across a bedsheet. those were always difficult to fold even for you. he eventually throws it to the side focusing on a pair of jeans instead.

“you’re so cute.”

“i’m cute?” he raises an eyebrow.

“mhm. like my cute househusband.”

“husband, huh? is that a proposal?”

“do you want it to be?”

“i’d like a ring.”

“whatever you’d like, princess.” you wink and he snorts because you look silly.

ㆍhelping them bathe

he’s dragging the wash cloth over your arms, shoulders and back. the gentleness of it all is enough to bring you to tears. he thought to run this bath for you, light your favorite candle and help you bathe because he knew you’d had a long day. it’s when you sniffle that his hand pauses and he leans over to look at you.

“what’s wrong? i wasn’t being too rough, was i?”

“no, no, no. i’m just a little emotional right now is all.” you laugh, but it seems the tears can’t stop coming.

he sets the rag down and cups your face wiping your tears away.

“i just feel really loved right now.” you give him a wobbly smile.

“oh, you’re so precious.” he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

ㆍmaking their tea/coffee how they like it

dongmin’s pretty sure he’s perfected your daily coffee, but he still waits with bated breath as he watches you lift the mug for the first sip. when you set it down you still feel he’s looking at you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask.

“did i mess up?”

“dongmin, seriously?” you laugh. “you’ve been making my coffee for months now.”

“well, yeah, but there’s still room for mistakes.”

“it’s perfect. you could apply to be a barista now.”

“oh, good.” he sighs. “i’ve been thinking of picking up a side job.”

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a/n: ouuu shiiballl yoooo im back w crack yoo Guys ill write hybrid fics soon TRUSTT

well! anyways, you and taesan are on your sofa in your pajamas, each on opposite sides with mugs full of hot tea—your respective favorite flavors—in your hands. your legs are tangle over each other’s in a complex criss-cross pattern.

“can you believe it?” taesan starts.

what a thought provoking question, you think. taesan always starts off a conversation with a question containing absolutely zero context.

you tilt your head a bit. “believe what?”

he emphasizes each word, “woonhak is onto his next talking stage already. it’s been, what, 4 days?” his eyebrows furrow as they always do when he’s talking about something with passion.

“i could believe it,” you respond with a hint of sarcasm.

you take a sip from your warm mug and watch as taesan shuffles in his seat. you like to test him, act like a know-it-all.

“okay, i could believe it too,” taesan surrenders, “but, still!”

you hide back your smile, finding how defeated he looks to be adorable. that is why you test him.

you reason, “we know that woonhak is just doing this out of hurt, though. this is his way of coping with… you know.”

taesan hums, calming down now. “mm, for sure. he’s still not over his first love. that got him good.”

you nod.

a short moment of comfortable silence passes. taesan takes a small sip of his tea before he subtly—or what he might think is subtle—clears his throat and looks at you with a glint of hesitancy.

that’s strange.

“you know…” his voice comes out quieter this time; a little strained like his throat is struggling to let the words flow out.

you wait for him to continue.

taesan’s eyes move to his lap. “i think you’re my first.”

there it is. taesan’s heart was too full that his throat could not possibly hold back such a strong confession.

“your first… what?” you blink.

he stares back at you, eyes full of an emotion you have never seen in your boyfriend before; by uncovering this blanket of indescribable emotion, one would find fear.

and, for the first time in you and taesan’s relationship, you sense a crack in the comfort. a change that cannot be determined to be good or bad at first glance. to define it, you’ll just have to wait and see.

“my first love.”

your heart begins to stutter. your mind can’t form a coherent thought anymore.

you let out a breath, “oh.”

then, as a common coping mechanism of yours, you wrack your brain to something that taesan had told you back when you were just friends.

you use this aged piece of information as an attempt to change the tone of the current topic. you ask, “taesan, i thought you didn’t believe in first loves?”

yet, taesan is determined to keep this conversation on track.

“i used to not believe in first loves. i do now.”

your mouth gapes open a little.

“because of me?” you test the waters back.

he’s still staring at you. “because of you, yeah.”

ah, fuck it. this feels about right for time and place.

“taesan,” you try to steady your voice, but your words still come out shaky, “you love me?”

“yes, yn. i love you.”

you shuffle in your seat to straighten yourself up.

“taesan, i love you too.”

it feels as if a truth that you’ve been holding onto has finally come to light. all of a sudden, you want to say the phrase that you once did not wish to be spoken of over and over again.

taesan fixes his posture as well, leaning forward so your faces are directly in front of each other. he smiles without his teeth, pupils dipping their focus from your eyes to your lips.

he slowly closes the short distance between your lips as his hand, warm from the mug, moves up to caress your cheek.

taesan smiles softly into the kiss, and the corners of your mouth can’t help but lift with his.

you pull apart just enough to make the tips of your noses touch. you admire his beauty; the emotion in his eyes is love. it always has been.

you desire to stare at taesan’s pretty face for longer, but he engulfs you tightly in his arms and the two of you fall onto the armrest of the couch. he stuffs his face into your neck and rapidly places more kisses there. that’s fine too. taesan’s pretty face can be there too, you suppose.

he mumbles “iloveyou” again, and again, and again.

you chuckle, “taesan! i get it, stop! our tea is gonna spill!”

the words i love you will never be foreign to you ever again.

please DO NOT translate, copy, or repost as yours. feeding my works into ai will NOT be condoned.

maia’s note: BNDBLR IM BACK . all roads lead back to boynextdoor it seems… this is also very rusty i just wanted to write for my own enjoyment and i really liked this idea and taesan so. i was aiming for this work to be more dialogue heavy, and i think it is, but it’s still quite description focused haha…. i’m thinking abt making a version of this for a cortis member but i’m not sure. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!! 🤍

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The lights have dimmed to set the romance in the air. Cherry blossoms fly. Your hair cascades, twined with lace and ribbon, flowing gently in the 50 inch high velocity industrial stage fan.

The world is your oyster. You are the pearl of this show.

"Take 1. Action!"

"How was I to think you’d fall for me so easily?" Your voice is pinched with regret when you speak, eyes big and glassy and sympathy-inducing.

You are perfect. You are Love.

"You were foolish to fall in love with me. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have done this, for both our sakes," you say, reciting the lines you'd written in place of the old, character-assassinating ones.

Taesan scoffs dramatically. He runs a distressed hand through his (admittedly luscious) hair, before meeting your eyes once more. "You strung me along for a year!" He makes a wild gesture with his hand. "Please… Please, be selfish for once. Choose us over everyone else. I know how charitable you are, how kind… But please, Love, for once in your life, choose yoursel—are you sure this is right?" He breaks characters to shoot a probing look at Sungho.

Sungho doesn't even bother to say CUT! He just slumps down into his chair, tipping his head back and boring holes into the high ceiling of the studio.

But you, however, are not impressed.

"Yes he's sure it's right. We came to an agreement with the revised script already!" You stomp in frustration, thinking of how annoying it was to have to convince Sungho to give in.

"Well, the revised script is BO-RING," Taesan yawns. Yawns! This jackas— "Like," he continues as though he can't see you lift your fingers to set his hair (why is so luscious, ugh, undeserved!) on fire, and he's already digging his pocket for his precious mirror. "The show isn't gonna sell if the female lead is all 'wahhhh, look at me, I'm so sweet and sappy. I love puppies and kittens and forgiveness.' EW!"

"BUT THAT'S WHO THE GODDESS OF LOVE IS! SHE IS MADE OF LOVE, YOU HEATHEN!" You shriek back, having to reel yourself back when you see Leehan sprint forward to hold onto you, just in case you did something regrettable.

But Taesan isn't even listening. He's smirking lopsided at his reflection, brushing under his jaw for a non-existent stubble with his fingers. It's infuriating.

Just when you'd thought life was turning around and Earth was a decent place to hang out in, these puny humans seemed determined to get on your godly nerves. First, it was Woonhak uploading a rather misunderstood video of you and Sungho onto the interwebs (you forgot if that's what it's called…whatever), making it look like you were—goddess forbid—holding his sweaty little hand.

You were not. It's just that you had to act fast and grab his hand before he could start making red-pen-marks all across the genius dialogues you'd edited in.

And then the stupid tweeter started shipping you together to oblivion, saying you make a cute couple and that they're waiting for the tension to finally break between you.

(The only thing you'd hoped to break was his hand. And there is no way, not in a million gazillion heavenly years, that you'd be shipped anywhere with Larp Sungho of all people! Hmmf!)

The set is in commotion: Sungho stands up to take his seventeenth smoke break of the day (it's only 9 AM now), Riwoo exchanges a tired look with Kazuha, and Rei grumbles under her breath to Danielle who is waiting to get her make-up done. Jungwon refuses to be on set at all, so he's snoring away somewhere in his office, making up for lost sleep.

Which leaves you, seething at the stupid urchin that was Taesan, and Leehan trying to shield your sight from him.

"C'mon woman, ease up," Taesan says, still looking into his mirror. "You act like you are the goddess of love or something. Chill out."

Oh, that does it! You can forgive a lot, but you draw the line at being accused of pretending to be who you are—have been since the creation of the universe. When there was peace. Before plagues. Before death. Disease.

Before Taesan or his ugly personality ever came into formation.

You aren't too keen on thinking too deeply before lifting the magic in your pointer finger and zapping it at Taesan over your agent's shoulder, already excited to see him fall in love with his own reflection and suffer the same horrid fate that that guy Narcissus did.

But.

A teeny misjudgement on your part….

Right when the pink spark hits Taesan square in the chest, he looks up in your direction.

Except it's not you he locks eyes with.

It's….

It's Leehan who's turned around just in time to meet Taesan's sightline.

One second passes. Then two. And when the horror of the moment settles into your stomach, and Leehan's confusion makes itself apparent in the way he blinks like a trapped prey, you see it. The way Taesan has gone absolutely dazed.

The mirror in his hand slips loose and shatters onto the ground, into thousands of jagged pieces. His eyes look drunk. And the smile on his face… it isn't sinister or slimy.

An actual genuine, lovesick smile, reserved only for the object of his affections: your innocent familiar and wonderful friend, Leehan.

Oh fuck…you may have messed it up. Oh—

You don't even have time to digest the mess of this situation when the next insane thing happens. A few gasps resound from the crowd below. At first you think they've somehow noticed your invisible powers, but then the truth of the matter proves to be much, much worse.

White smoke rise and billows below, obscuring your vision and making the crew break out into a fit of coughs. Then comes a voice, as the fog slowly clears up, something menacing. Something arrogant.

Something unfortunately familiar.

The mist begins to clear up slowly, the silhouette behind the veil getting more visible as they walk forward in tantalising steps—no, struts. Then comes the almost water-like robes swishing behind him, then the carefully tousled mess of his dark curls. Then the pair of eyes you've known forever, since you were born and he came out a minute after, staring at you like it would have been great to be an only child.

Your mouth is agape when he finally stops in front of the elevated stage, smirking at the way he's caught you off-guard.

"Well, hello there," Jaehyun drawls, arms lifted in theatrical greeting, eyes twinkling in mischief, "Sister dearest."

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