at least you know how to jump a car now
🎤︎︎ wooyoung x fem!reader | college au, mini-series, part 11/? 🎤︎︎ 18+ | 5.8k words | reader is the host of a sex podcast, wooyoung is a frat boy whore, yunho is actually the only man ever. i lied
“NO.”
She readjusts herself on the couch, knees pressed into the cushions, standing on them with her hands braced on the back. Taking a physical breath, tone relaying what she already knows, she says, “I’m gonna give you one more chance to be honest with me. Is it you?”
You’re frozen, standing before your now closed door, heart beating out of your fucking chest. You blink, swallowing once, twice. You can trust her. Can you? She seems angry. Is she angry?
In a whisper, you answer, “Yes.”
She covers her mouth with one hand, chocolate brows tying together above wide eyes. “Oh my god. You’re— do you have any idea what people are saying about you?” You nod, timid, body still tight. She rips her hand from her mouth while putting the pieces together, “How fucking long— I don’t even understand— you don’t sing.”
“I don’t sing,” you repeat, still whispering because you don’t trust your voice at any other volume.
Still holding onto the back of the couch, she lowers herself until she’s sitting on her calves, eyes still wide, jaw still slacked. She looks up at you and there’s a ghost of a frown on her lips, her voice shaky as she realizes, “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” you’re quick to defend. “I just didn’t tell you.”
Your name falls from her lips coated in disappointment. “You deliberately kept it from me.”
Disappointment is worse than anger. “I kept it from everyone, Jen.”
“I’m not everyone!” she nearly whimpers, her voice cracking, strained. “This is a whole side of you I don’t know, this is— this is like a whole half of you that I know nothing about! Do you know how many episodes I listened to before I even recognized your voice?”
Your bottom lip quivers, jaw hinged tight. Her words are like an arrow through your fucking chest.
“I only realized because you told a story about me. I recognized my own story on my best friend’s secret fucking podcast,” she doesn’t move as she seethes, like she’s frozen in place, too. Your heart wrenches with guilt. “Don’t you think maybe you should have asked me, maybe run it past me that this exists before posting my story online?”
You’re nodding, fumbling over your words. “I’m sorry, that’s why it’s anonymous—”
“I don’t care!” she yells, standing up off the couch. “I know it’s me, and now I know it’s you.”
Panic surges through you with force. “Please— Jen, please don’t tell anyone.”
She stares at you, arms flat at her sides, face twisted in heartbreak. You almost open your mouth again, ready to beg, but she cuts it off by asking, “You don’t trust me, do you?”
You shake your head. “Of course I—”
Her voice raises again, “You didn’t trust me with your secret, and now you don’t trust me to keep it. You think I’d expose you after you created an entire double life based on fucking anonymity?”
A double life. Is that really what Unscripted is? A different half of you? Another person detached from yourself, your own personality? Is anything about her, you? Is anything about you, her?
You try a step forward. “I trust you, Jen. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracks again, shoulders slumping, face going round. This is so much fucking worse than anger. The sadness, the disappointment… She feels betrayed.
Your lips part, a strained, guilty noise forcing its way through. You can’t form any words, you don’t know what the fuck you could possibly say to make any of this better.
Words you’ve said too often lately, you find them inside you again, “I don’t know.”
Now, it just sounds pathetic. A sorry fucking excuse for lying to, for hurting your best friend, your roommate, your sister. But you don’t have a reason; you knew she wouldn’t judge you, you knew she wouldn’t tell anyone, and yet you still didn’t tell her. You don’t know why.
“You don’t know?” she repeats, like she didn’t hear you the first time. “You’ve spent months strategically hiding this from me, and you don’t know why?”
Your lips quiver, eyes stinging, chest growing tight. She sees it, but she holds her ground, “Were you ever going to tell me?”
You don’t trust your voice, so you shake your head. You could have gone your entire life without anyone knowing you’re the face behind the name, the voice behind the stories, the advice, the vulgarity. Tears fall.
She shakes her head like she can’t choose which words she wants to say first. She looks at the floor. “We live together, we share everything. You know everything about me.” She looks up again, nose twitching with what you’re sure is tears trapped in her chest, “You trusted hundreds— maybe thousands of people with personal, sensitive information I don’t know about you. How is that fair?”
“They don’t know who I am, Jen,” you blurt, your voice coated in a cry. You still haven’t moved from the door, there’s too much space between you, and it feels wider with each exchange.
“I do!” she finally shouts, pointing at her chest, a single tear falling down her cheek. “I know you and I fucking love you, what are you so scared of? That I’m not going to love you anymore because you make up stories on a podcast?”
“I don’t make them up,” your voice drops in defense. “They’re all true, at least a piece of them is, even if they didn’t happen to me.”
She laughs, but it’s hollow, you can hear the congestion in her sinuses. “That’s what you took from that? You think I’m calling you a liar?”
“No—”
“Do you even understand why I’m upset?” she shouts, patience thinning. “We’ve known each other for years! I thought I knew you down to the fucking bone, and you hid something this— this huge from me. This is huge, the episode you posted today, everyone is talking about it!”
“I know!” you shout back, taking another step forward. “I know they’re talking about it and I’m terrified! I didn’t mean for this to happen—”
“Who are they?” Her voice is suddenly calm again as she brings the heel of her palm up to her nose. “I know the tall one is Yunho, who’s the other one?”
You pause, heart dropping. You don’t want to tell her. You have no choice but to fucking tell her. You think your heart might fall out of your ass fully as you mumble, “Wooyoung.”
She blinks at you. “Wooyoung? Like, Jung Wooyoung? Black hair? Whore? The one I’ve slept with? That Jung Wooyoung?” Embarrassed, terrified of what her response will be, all you can do is nod. Her palms hit her forehead as she circles the coffee table, pacing. She stops again when she’s facing you, piecing it together, “So Tall is Yunho, PMO is Wooyoung. You asked Wooyoung for sex advice about Yunho because you had sex with Wooyoung.”
“No,” you answer with certainty. “I haven’t had sex with Wooyoung.”
“What?” Her hands find her forehead again. “You said you trust him, that he knows you or whatever. Fuck, I fucking knew something was weird with you two at the Penny. What the fuck did you do?”
You look down at his hoodie still on your body, you remember everything you said to him fifteen fucking minutes ago. What did you do? Too much. Too much to come back from.
Yunjin looks too, apparently. “Whose hoodie is that?” Your head snaps up, mouth going dry. “I recognize that fucking hoodie, he– what did you do?”
As if it’s instinct, you drop your shit at the small table beside the door and rip the fucking hoodie over your head, throwing it to the floor like it’s on fire. It feels criminal to be wearing it, like he’s in the room with you, sharing your defeat. She watches it fall to the floor then looks back at you, then to the hoodie again like she’s buffering, trying to put pieces that you still haven’t given her together.
“Why him?” she mutters from across the room. “Why does he know you? Why does he get to know things I don’t?”
“He doesn’t know about Unscripted,” you mutter just as quietly, chest rising and falling with every single nerve beneath your skin.
“We’ll circle back to Unscripted,” she’s quick to fire back. “Trust me. Right now, I want you to tell me why Jung Wooyoung knows things about you that I don’t.”
You hate the words that you swear you can taste now, “I don’t know.”
“Yes you do,” she argues, voice edged with frustration. “Tell me. Or is this something else you can’t trust me with?”
“I don’t fucking know!” your voice raises, strained because you fucking mean it. “I don’t tell him anything, I asked him for advice about Yeonjun and now he knows things about me. I don’t sit down and tell him my fucking secrets, he just— when he says things about me, they’re right.”
“It started with Yeonjun?” Her eyes widen, hands flying to her roots again. “What the fuck? How long has this– I don’t even know what the fuck to call it. When did you hook up?”
“The night you took me out to get over Yeonjun,” you answer without a second thought. “He found out– whatever, we hooked up in a random bedroom. We didn’t have sex, though.”
Her brows are knitted together. “Then what did you do?”
“I– he– did you listen to the episode about overstimulation?”
Her face drops. “That was him?”
You nod, bringing your hands up to rub at your face, the words falling from your lips like water now, “That was right before Yunho, and like, literally right before Yunho. And since Yunho, him and I have been weird until I asked him for advice at the Penny, now we’re normal again and he picked me up from work because my car died and then he took me to a batting cage and a diner and then I told him I want to kiss him–”
“What?” she interrupts you, blinking rapidly. “What? Tonight?”
Your voice heightens in pitch, “Like, maybe fifteen minutes ago?”
“What the fuck,” her palm covers her mouth again. “What the fuck?”
“I didn’t kiss him,” you whisper, cheeks heating all over again. “He said he couldn’t do that to Yunho.”
“Wooyoung said no,” she repeats like she can’t fucking believe it. You nod. “I can’t believe you were the one– since I’ve met you– what the fuck is going on?”
“Wooyoung!” you finally yell. “Ever since I met him my life has been derailed. He knows me, but the more he knows me the less I know me, like he can see through me, I- I can’t explain it.”
She gets quiet before she says your name, it sounds pitiful, like she feels bad for you. Your stomach fucking hurts.
“Come sit down,” she says calmly, pointing to the couch.
You blink at her, “Jen–”
“Sit down or I swear to god,” she cuts you off, voice stern. You jump into movement, feet carrying you toward the couch as she commands, “You’re telling me everything and you’re going to be honest.”
You’re nervous as you sit on the farthest cushion, knees pinned together, fingers curling into the plush beneath you. “What about Unscripted?”
“I didn’t forget about it,” she sits on the other side of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest. “But my best friend who has always been in a committed relationship is acting really out of character right now and I need to know why.”
You run your fingers through your hair as you sink into the couch, your heart split in two. But you tell her, you tell her every single detail, from the night you met Wooyoung to the night you brought Yunho home to what happened before you walked through the door to your apartment.
“Do you remember the night you found out about Yeonjun? The basket?” she asks when you finally finish, as if she’s been sitting on the question. You nod. “I asked you if he saw you, if he made you feel special.”
“He didn’t, he never did, I know that–”
“He seems like he does,” she dips her chin. “Wooyoung.”
“Yunho sees me,” you argue. “Yunho is good to me. I’m fucked up for wanting Wooyoung like that.”
“No you’re not,” she quickly argues. “I mean, I don’t think you’re fucked up. It's instinct. You were together the whole night, it makes sense.”
Your voice goes quiet, “He was right, though.”
“Yes, and you didn’t kiss him,” her upper body moves like she’s telling you the obvious. “You didn’t act on the impulse.”
“Because he stopped me,” you laugh a little on the words. “If he had kissed me, I would have fucked him, Jen.” Yunjin stays quiet, thinking, chewing on her bottom lip. Your head dips backward, “Fuck, I should tell him, shouldn’t I?”
“Yunho?” She asks.
“Yes,” you sigh. “It’s not fair if he’s committed to me and that’s all it takes for me to jump some other guy’s bones.”
Yunjin snorts, “I don’t think this is just some other guy, babe, but I get what you’re saying.” Her lips scrunch to one side, “Do you even want to be committed to Yunho? Do you want to be committed to anyone right now?”
Your chest feels hollow. “I don’t know.” She nods like she was expecting that answer. “Isn’t that bad?” You lean forward a little. “I don’t– that’s not me.”
“Why can’t it be you?” She shrugs. “You’ve been in a relationship for almost all of your adult life, you don’t even know what it means to fuck around.”
“I don’t want to fuck around–”
“You sure?” she teases, a playful smile on her lips. “It sounds to me like you’re dying to fuck around, especially with Woo–”
“What’s he like?” you cut her off. Purposely. “In bed. Is it valid that everyone wants him?”
Her lips scrunch again, “Hate to break it to you, but yeah. Absolutely. Like, two-hundred percent–”
“Okay,” you cut her off again. “I get it.”
“This is all I wanted, by the way,” her voice is low again, serious.
Your brows tie together. “Huh?”
“With Yeonjun, when you finally let me in I felt like I understood you a little better. I love you, I want to know all of the things that make you, you.”
You frown, heart cracking in two all fucking over again. “I’m sorry, Jen.”
“And just to reassure you, I won’t tell anyone that you’re Unscripted,” she sits up a little, pushing herself up by the cushions. “But I will say that the more you say, the easier it is to connect you. How the fuck do you even sound like that? You barely sound like yourself.”
“I tweak it a little,” you grin. “Just a pinch, and it’s worked for me so far.” After another pause, your face rounds out as you say, “Thank you for keeping my secret. I’ll be more careful.”
“Sannie would lose his fucking mind if he knew,” she shakes her head, laughing a little. “Like, lose his fucking mind. Yunho, too. How do you keep a straight face?”
You shrug. “I do what I have to.”
“Scary,” her head tilts away from you. “You’re scary.”
“Prepared,” you correct her, holding up a finger. “If you’re gonna keep your identity a secret, you have to be prepared to defend that secret with your life.” Her eyes thin out, and your returning smile is coy. “My bad. I'm referring to everyone else now.”
The sun is fucking hot. Morning sun is different from evening sun, the air feels clearer, drier, the UV feels ripe, especially if there’s no breeze. There’s not a lick of wind brushing past you as you skip from your stairs into Yunho’s car, heart beating a mile a fucking minute, the sun stripping you as raw as you feel.
Yunjin knows, and she doesn’t hate you. Yunjin knows, and she still loves you. It should be enough to have you feeling on top of the world, relieved, light. But it’s not enough, and you don’t feel even the slightest bit relieved, because there’s more. You almost don’t believe that you have problems bigger than someone finding out you’re Unscripted, at one point you didn’t think it was possible.
You give him your cheek when you get into his car, but he doesn’t back from it, he doesn’t mind at all. He presses his lips softly into your skin, “Morning, sunshine.”
You can barely muster a smile. “Morning,” you mutter, giving him a one-over. Blonde hair pushed back, comfortable clothes on his body, that sliver of skin out to play like it always fucking is. Damn.
“Do you want to get coffee or something before we go?” he asks, already reversing his car out of the parking space right in front of your apartment.
You shake your head, hands sitting politely in your lap, “No, I’m okay. I had coffee already.”
“O-kay,” he hums, pulling out of your development, onto the main road. He looks at you from his peripherals as he asks, “Are you mad at me for not answering last night?”
“What?” you ask, abruptly. “No, oh my god, of course not.”
“Just checking,” he says casually, his head shaking a little. The silence you fall back into is palpable. You’re acting weird. You’re acting fucking guilty and you know it. You try to relax, stretching out your legs, your arms, you try to let your body deflate into his passenger seat. You think you might look like a drunk baby instead, trying to take up as much space as you can.
The drive seems infinitely longer than it usually is because you can’t get your head on straight. You’re paranoid, guilty, you know Yunho can feel that there’s something off but you can’t bring yourself to fucking speak.
Hey, just so you know, I wanted to kiss Wooyoung last night.
Before you do this favor for me, I want to tell you that I wanted to fuck your friend last night.
You shouldn’t have ever entered exclusivity with me because I’m a fucking mess.
You sigh. He feels it as he pulls into the parking lot of the gym, parking his car in the spot right next to your car. You think of last night, Wooyoung in this exact parking space, you screaming at him to unlock the door under a blanket of rain.
You never deserved Yunho to begin with.
“Can I ask you something?” Yunho asks, turning his key in the ignition, engine going dead. You nod, sitting up a little, heart knocking against your breastplate. “Did you submit a story to Unscripted?”
You blink. “What?”
He tugs on the handle of his door, climbing out of the driver’s seat. You do the same, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. He talks as he walks up to your car, popping the hood, “Her newest episode is going viral, and it just… sounds familiar.”
You lean your backside up against the passenger side door, “How does it sound familiar?”
He ducks to give you a flat stare around your car’s hood. “Mister Tall and Dominant? Asked him to be more dominant, and he did it as soon as she brought it up?”
You reach for ignorance, at least for a little while longer. “That could be anyone, Yunho. Why do you think it’s you?”
“Because the other guy is Wooyoung,” he says, bringing his attention back under the hood. You feel like your fucking world has been swept from under your feet. How does he know that? What does he know? How is the conclusion that you submitted something to Unscripted, and not that you’re fucking Unscripted?
“He–” you start, already stumbling over your words. “Are you crazy?”
“He told me you asked him for advice, sunshine,” he sing-songs from under your hood. “He told me about last night, too. The batting cages, the diner. Can you grab the bag from my backseat?”
You’re on autopilot as you grab what looks like a black toolbox– tool bag from his backseat, talking as you lay it over the side of your car, in reach for him to go through it. “What else did he tell you?”
Yunho looks up at you. “What else is there to say?”
“Nothing,” you answer immediately. “There’s nothing else. Do you know what’s wrong with my car?”
“Not yet,” he shakes his head, lips scrunching to one side. “I’m gonna try to jump it. Do you know how to jump a car?” You shake your head no, and he smacks his teeth. “We’re fixing that today.”
He digs into the toolbag, grabbing what looks like a power bank, two thick cables. He holds them up to you, “Red and black.” You nod, moving beside him so you can see what he sees. He points into the guts of your car, “That’s your battery.”
You lean forward a little, and he lowers his finger so you can see exactly what he’s pointing at. “Plus sign, red cable,” he explains, then hands the cable-clamp thingy to you. Your brows furrow. “Attach it,” he says like you’ve done this a million fucking times.
“I’m not gonna blow up my car, right?” you ask, holding the cable-clamp thing like it’s an explosive.
He laughs, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t let that happen, baby.”
You squeeze the clamp, attaching it where he showed you. You look up at him for reassurance, “Is that okay?”
“Perfect,” he says, then holds up the black clamp.
You pop a brow, “Negative?”
“Close,” his head tilts as he sticks the clamp somewhere else in the guts of your car. “Ground point, unpainted piece of metal or a part of the engine so you don’t blow your car up.”
Your lips make the shape before you say the word, “Oh.”
“Try to start it for me,” he says, and you nod, grabbing your keys from his car before slotting yourself in your own driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. The dash lights up, but the only sound your car makes is a big fat fucking click.
“One more time,” you hear him over the hood, so you try again. You’re going to hear the clicking in your fucking dreams tonight. You deflate, groaning as he gathers the cables back into his bag, closing the hood. “This is out of my area of expertise, I fear.”
Your top lip lifts, “But you’re Handy Manny.”
He throws the bag back in his backseat, “Sorry, sunshine. I’ll call a tow truck for you.”
You don’t answer because he’s already in fix-it-mode, his phone in his hand, pacing with the other hand on his hip up on the curb while you watch from your driver’s seat. It’s unbearably hot, but you’re too guilty to care. You just let him teach you how to jump a fucking car while you tried to kiss his friend last night.
You tilt your head, watching him. He turns, meeting your eye through the pocket between your windshield and your open door, eyes focused. It’s unbearable. You blurt, “I tried to kiss Wooyoung last night.”
He holds up a finger. Your jaw drops. He points to his ear and mouths I’m on the phone.
“Hi, yeah, I need a tow, please,” he looks up at the sky as he speaks, and you actually genuinely wish you could fucking disappear. You sink further into the seat, running your hands over your face, into your hair, knees spreading. You wish your brain wasn’t so fucking complicated. You wish you never tried to fuck Yeonjun in Wooyoung’s bedroom.
“Sorry, they’ll be here within the hour,” he says, sounding refreshed as he hangs over your open door, arms crossed over the top of it. “So, you tried to kiss Wooyoung?”
You lower your hands, face blank. “Yes, last night.”
“Hm,” his head tilts. “He left that part out.”
“He said no,” you’re immediately defending him, defending yourself through him. “I didn’t kiss him.”
“But you wanted to,” his brows furrow from above the door.
You look at your lap, guilty. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says simply.
Your head snaps upward, brows tied together. “Okay?”
He shrugs. “Do you want me to be mad at you?”
“Kinda,” you shrug, bewildered at the answer. “We’re exclusive and I tried to fuck your friend.”
His brows raise, “You said kiss.”
“I did say kiss,” your lips tighten. “I meant kiss.”
He watches you for a second, eyes dancing to the floorboard beneath you, your steering wheel, the pile of shit in your passenger seat. Finally, he asks, “Do you still want to be exclusive?”
You speak before you can think, “I like you, Yun–”
He grins. “Not what I asked.”
Your lips flatten. “I don’t know.”
He nods, “Okay.”
“Oh my god,” you gruff out, the heels of your palms finding your bare eyes. “Can you please say something else?”
He huffs a laugh, “What do you want me to say? We aren’t dating, we’re exclusively sleeping together.”
“I know,” you basically whine. “But what happens if we aren’t? I like you.”
“I like you, too,” he nods. “It’s not like I’m going to hate you forever if we aren’t exclusive, sunshine. Did you think I’d throw a fit? Call you a cheater?”
Even Unscripted is a fucking cheater. The tips of your ears run hot, “Yeah, kinda.”
He walks around the car door, bending down into his calves beside the floorboard. “I didn’t start this thinking we were gonna get married. You’ve had four boyfriends in total in your entire life. I like you, but I’m not the type to stop someone from doing what they want to do.”
“But you–” you argue. “You’re not hurt at all?”
His head tilts, exposing his teeth in a way that says well, maybe. “I wouldn’t say hurt, but I wouldn’t say I’m emotionless, either. Mingi will be excited.”
Your jaw drops, a punched laugh escaping you. “You’re thinking about Mingi right now?”
He grins, “I think about Mingi often.”
“Have you ever been exclusive with him?” Yunho makes a show of shaking his head no. You deflate into your seat again, “I don’t understand that. Sleeping with someone without having… attachments. The security that they’re into you.”
His brows furrow, “Isn’t sleeping with someone confirmation enough that they like you?”
“No,” you answer quickly. “I mean, like, they’ll wake up tomorrow and still like you.”
“Have sexual attraction and romantic attraction always gone hand-in-hand with you?” he asks, and it’s honest. You nod. His face flattens out. “Have you ever wanted to fuck someone just to fuck them?”
Your lips scrunch as you look up at the roof of your car, thinking. You’re shaking your head as you respond, “No.”
He pops a brow, “Really?”
“No!” you say through a laugh. “I mean it. You know I’ve only had sex with long-term boyfriends, you’re the only exception.”
“And I’m flattered, but you’ve never seen someone walking down the street and just wanted to bang ‘em? Didn’t even want to learn their name?”
“No,” you say with a little more certainty. “The romantic aspect… It's part of it for me. The attraction.”
“So you have to really like someone in order to fuck them?” he asks, clarifying. You nod. His brows furrow, “But you don’t have to date them in order to fuck them.”
“What?” you ask, brows tied together. “No–”
“So you wanted me to be your boyfriend,” he assumes, brows raising. “That night at the party when we kissed, you were thinking in your head, ‘I’m gonna make Yunho my boyfriend’.”
“Don’t talk about yourself in third person, it’s weird.” His head tilts, face flat. You release an aggravated sigh, “Fine, no, I wasn’t thinking that about you. I wanted to sleep with you.”
He grins, “So everything you just said was a lie, basically.”
“I’m confused!” you argue, poking a flip flop at his knee. “I don’t know what I do. I don’t know!”
He laughs, smacking your foot away from him. “Okay, think of someone you want to fuck. Someone who’s not Wooyoung.” Your hands hit your face so hard they clap. He’s laughing again as he reaches up for your hands, pulling them off your face as he sits on the floorboard of your car. “I’m serious, sunshine. Think of someone that you’ve never imagined yourself dating. Someone you’re really, really attracted to, and want just one solid night of really hot, intense fucking.”
Oh, your face is on fucking fire, but you think. You think hard. You think of every single man you’ve ever met, all the guys on campus, the ones that go to your gym, none of them have ever piqued your interest enough to want a solid night of really hot, intense fucking.
But there is someone you’ve wondered about. Someone who gets the back of your neck prickling with sweat whenever you’re around them.
The answer comes naturally, “Jihyo.”
His brows raise. He chokes on a laugh, “Jihyo? Park Jihyo? Friends with Momo, Sana….?”
You nod, “Yes, that Jihyo.”
He pops a brow, “Huh.”
“What?” you immediately press, sitting up a little. “What’s wrong with Jihyo?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting you to– I wasn’t expecting a woman.”
“Are you homophobic when you literally stick your dick up Mingi’s ass?”
His face goes flat again. “Did you seriously just ask me that?” You giggle. “Okay, Jihyo. Do you want to date Jihyo?”
Your head tilts, eyes dancing around your car again, “I’ve never thought about it.”
“Well, don’t start now,” he says like you’re fucking ridiculous. “Have you thought about fucking her?”
You finally meet his eye again, shrugging. “Once or twice.”
“So everything you just said was bullshit, basically,” he says like he’s caught you, a smirk playing on his lips like this is the most amusing thing he’s ever encountered.
You gasp. “No, it was not bullshit. I like Jihyo, she’s my friend.”
Yunho leans in like he’s telling you a secret, “Have you ever even kissed a girl?”
Your top lip lifts, “Yes, I've kissed Jen!”
“I mean, like, seriously,” he explains with his hands. “I really didn’t take you as fruity.”
“Maybe you have a shit gaydar,” you counter, arms crossing over your chest.
“We’re getting off topic,” he shakes his head. “Would you survive if you had sex with Jihyo tomorrow and she didn’t call you after? Didn’t ask you to be her girlfriend?”
You shrug, “I don’t know.”
“I didn’t ask you to be my girlfriend,” he counters.
“But we talked about exclusivity the next morning,” you fire back.
“But what if I didn’t bring it up? Would you have fucked me again?”
Your lips scrunch, cheeks heating up. “Yeah.” Yunho gives you a look like you’re trying to bullshit a bullshitter. You moan a noise of aggravation, “It’s different, Yunho. I knew you liked me before I slept with you.”
He shrugs, “Jihyo likes you.”
“Jihyo likes me as a friend,” you raise a finger between you.
He lowers it back down again, wrapping his palm around your finger. “Have you ever asked?” You barely get your no out before he’s sighing. “What are you scared of, sunshine?”
You’re tired of that question. And people asking you what you want. And any other fucking question that you don’t know the answer to.
“Being exclusive with someone doesn’t mean they won’t hurt you, baby.” He’s still holding your fingers as he says it, frowning. “And I know you know that already.”
First Wooyoung, and now Yunho? Your body sags, head drooping forward like the weight of his words sat directly on your back. Is this the aftermath? The mark Yeonjun left on your soul? You thought you were moving on, pushing forward, that Yunho was the very physical proof of your growth. It hurts to know it’s still not enough, that there’s embers left of the fire Yeonjun lit. But Yunho’s right. Wooyoung was fucking right, too, just like he always fucking is.
You look up again, eyes cloudy, face bent up in a frown. “How do I fix that?”
The smile he gives you is soft, comforting. “You don’t need to fix it, baby. I just wish you would live.”
You pout. “Does this mean we’re breaking up?”
His grin widens, a chuckle falling past his lips. “Is break-up the term to use here? Are you asking if we can still be friends? Still sleep together? What are you asking me, sunshine?”
You shrug, “I don’t know. What are my options?”
He runs two hands over his face, laughing into his palms. “Jesus Christ, you’re a piece of fucking work.”
“In a good way?”
He shakes his head before his palms find his lap. “Do you want to keep seeing me?”
“Of course I do,” you answer, that’s a no-brainer.
“Do you want to keep fucking me?”
You blink at him, slowly nodding before you quietly mumble, “Yes.”
“Do you still like me?”
You nod profusely, “Yes, I like you a lot.”
“Then why would we stop seeing each other?” he asks, his voice light. He reaches forward, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “We like each other, the sex is great, there’s no reason to stop.”
“But if you…” you start, then trail off. A little firmer, you ask, “But if you sleep with other people, are you still going to like me?”
His face softens. “Of course I will.”
You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “This is scary.”
“Then I’ll show you that it’s not,” he answers, reassurance lining his words.
Almost a whisper, coated in fucking anxiety, you ask, “Can you kiss me?”
Without a word, without a second of fucking debate he’s reaching forward, palms swallowing your cheeks like they always do as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft, just a peck of a kiss before he splits your lips, reassuring you of every word he just said, letting you feel that he’s still here, he still wants you, even if you aren’t fully his.
He wants you to experience freedom. He wants you to be happy. He wants you to start living your life the way the raw, unshielded fucking part of you wants to live it. Everyone wants you to, apparently.
“Be careful,” he whispers into your mouth, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “If you keep going, the tow-truck guy is gonna catch us fucking in the backseat.”
All you do is laugh, and kiss him harder.
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