coco

it's honestly kind of funny how the universe works, because a year ago, you were exhausted. james had gone off to college and in the process, seemingly forgotten he even had a girlfriend. he got busy, he got distracted, and you got tired of being a footnote in his new life. so you cut the cord. you cried, you moved on, you healed.

and then you ended up at the exact same university. same campus. same place. again.

at first, you actively avoided him. but campus is only big, not a whole country, and james is, well, james. once he realized you were here, he practically made it his part-time job to insert himself back into your orbit.

it started with shameless smirks across the quad, then escalated to random texts at 2 a.m. asking if you remembered that night when you two watched a spider-man marathon together. he takes every chance he gets to lean against doorframes when you exit a lecture, dropping casual, flirty remarks like you didn't break up a year ago.

you've gotten incredibly good at playing the indifferent ex. you reply to his texts when you want to pass the time, and leave him on read when you don't. it drives him crazy. you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the power trip, but the truth is, the tension between you two has been simmering for months, thick enough to cut with a knife.

this afternoon, you're just trying to survive a sociology project.

you're sitting in the library with martin, a classmate who means well but tends to invade your personal bubble when he's focused.

"so if we rewrite this line and these...," martin murmurs, leaning in close to point at a line on your laptop screen. his shoulder presses against yours.

you look up, intending to stare at the wall to gather your thoughts, but your eyes catch on a familiar figure instead. james is walking right past the front of your table. his backpack is slung over one shoulder, but he isn't looking where he's going. his eyes are fixed entirely on you. that black sweater he always wore and those wired headphones always provoked a reaction in you, because that was your james, the boy who listened to music most of the time and wore the same thing until it vanished.

he doesn't smile. he just watches you, his dark gaze dropping for a fraction of a second to exactly how close martin is sitting to you. a muscle feathers in his jaw and he takes his phone to do something.

he keeps walking until he takes a seat a few tables away, dropping his bag onto the chair. james never breaks his line of sight.

buzz.

your phone lights up on the table. you pick it up, angling the screen away from martin.

do not reply: move away from him. you're sitting too close.

you suppress the traitorous flutter in your chest and look up. james is staring right back at you, phone in hand, an intense, unreadable expression on his face.

you type back with one hand, keeping your face completely blank.

you: lol no?

you watch him read it. his eyes darken slightly. his thumbs fly over his screen.

buzz.

do not reply: i'll see you behind the medical section. right now.

the medical section is tucked at the very back of the library. it's notoriously cramped, filled with heavy reference books, and almost always completely empty because the aisles are so narrow.

you watch as james stands up, grabs his bag, and walks away without looking back, disappearing into the maze of tall bookshelves.

you sigh softly, locking your phone. you turn to your partner. "uh, tin? i'll be right back."

martin blinks, looking up from the laptop, clearly a little confused by the abruptness. "oh, yeah. sure, take your time."

you stand up, smoothing down your clothes, and walk in the direction james took.

c'mon, y/n, you're just going to tell him to knock it off..., you tell to yourself, but your heart is beating a little too fast against your ribs. that's james' effect.

the lighting gets dimmer as you reach the back of the library. the air smells like old paper and dust. you turn the corner into the last aisle, the one pressed right against the back brick wall.

there he is waiting for you.

james leaning against the metal shelving, arms crossed over his chest. the moment you step into the narrow space, the air instantly feels heavier. there's barely enough room for the two of you to stand without brushing against each other.

"so," you start, keeping your voice in a low, even whisper. you lean against the opposite shelf, crossing your arms to mirror him. "what's the emergency?"

"he was practically breathing down your neck," james says, his voice a low, raspy murmur that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"we were reading a shared document."

"he has his own eyes. he could've read it from his side of the table." james pushes off the shelf, taking a half-step closer. the proximity is immediate. you have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze.

"why do you care?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "you don't get to dictate who i sit next to, james."

"i know i don't," he admits freely, which catches you off guard. there's no arrogance in his tone now, just that heavy, quiet sincerity he's been weaponizing against you for months. "doesn't mean i have to like seeing some random guy invading your space."

"martin is my project partner."

"martin," james repeats, the name sounding like a curse word in his mouth. "does martin know you hate when people read over your shoulder?"

shit, you bite the inside of your cheek. he remembers. of course he does.

"you didn't call me back here to talk about martin," you point out, your voice dropping a fraction softer. james takes another step closer. the tips of his sneakers nudge yours. you don't step back. "no. i didn't."

he reaches out, his fingers lightly wrapping around your wrist to gently pull your arms uncrossed. you let him. his thumb traces the inside of your wrist, sending a dangerous, familiar warmth straight up your arm.

"i missed you today," he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your lips before snapping it back up to your eyes. "you ignored my texts this morning."

"i was in class."

"you were pretending i don't exist," he counters smoothly, a faint, lopsided smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "you're getting really good at it, by the way. almost had me fooled."

"I'm not pretending anything," you whisper, though the way your breath hitches slightly betrays the lie.

"you're a liar, y/n," he whispers, leaning in just enough that his lips brush the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "but i'll let you get back to martin. for now."

james leans in, his face inches from yours. you can smell his cologne, that familiar mix of cedar and something entirely him that makes your head spin. "yeah? then why did you come find me?"

"to tell you to leave me alone so i can finish my work."

he hums, a low vibration deep in his chest. he shifts his weight, boxing you in slightly against the books, his hand sliding from your wrist to rest on the shelf right beside your head. "you could've texted me that."

you swallow hard, staring up into his dark eyes, refusing to be the first one to look away. "i prefer to deliver bad news in person."

james smiles. it's a genuine, soft thing that makes your stupid heart do a complete flip.

3:04am

the party was already blurring into a hazy montage of muffled bass and the smell of expensive cologne mixed with something sweet.

jaemin. your best friend jaemin. was across the room, leaning against a doorframe, looking effortlessly put together even as the night began to fray at the edges; he caught you watching him because of course he always did, and instead of looking away he let a slow, knowing smile tug at the corners of his lips. his hair was perfectly styled and the hoodie he was wearing wasn't at all for warmth, as the zipper was only halfway down and the shirt underneath was unbuttoned as well, showing a bit of his chest. and god, jaemin didn’t do subtle, but he didn't do forced, he simply lived in the space between friendship and something much heavier between you two, never pulling back when your fingers lingered on his sleeve or when your eyes stayed on him a bit too long.

that's why, when your eyes met, your heart jumped.

then, a few seconds later he moved through the thinning crowd with a quiet grace, stopping right in front of you. he didn't say a word at first, just reached out to catch your hand, his thumb grazing your knuckles.

“hi” jaemin murmured, his voice a low honeyed hum that cut through the noise. so, so soft that you felt your knees suddenly weak.

"hi" you said back, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"you look really pretty tonight, y/n" jaem spoke again, in the same tone, without taking his eyes off yours. and the weakness in your knees intensified because no one should be allowed to say something like that looking like jaemin at that moment, so fucking gorgeous. "dance with me?"

he didn’t wait for an answer, already stepping closer to pull you into his space. his hands found your waist, touch light and reverent, thumbs tracing small, rhythmic circles over the fabric of your shirt. he moved you slowly, a gentle sway that felt like the only steady thing in the room. he was looking down at you with that soft, liquid expression full of a quiet kind of adoration he reserved only for you that made your chest ache.

you leaned your forehead against his shoulder, the fatigue of the hour finally catching up. “jaemin...” you whispered, your voice small.

the words lingered in the air between you, thicker than the humidity of the crowded room. he didn’t pull back immediately; instead, he stayed there, his lips just a fraction of an inch from your skin, letting the weight of the offer settle. you could feel the steady, heavy thrum of his heart through the palm of your hand against his chest, a stark contrast to the frantic, uneven rhythm of your own. he pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, his gaze dark and unblinking. really, really gorgeous. and you were mesmerized.

jaem didn't miss a beat. he tilted his head, leaning down until his lips were brushing against the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a sharp shiver down your spine.

“y/n...” he whispered back, his grip on your waist tightening just a fraction, steady and sure. “let me take you home.”