𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶

lina · 00s · short stories & soft thoughts · lover girl · 🇧🇷

requested! ♡ | content: mutual pining, unresolved tension, friends to lovers, emotional confusion, winter atmosphere

jeonghan never really explains why he likes the sea so much during winter.

you ask him once, hands hidden inside your sleeves as you try to keep up with his slow steps along the cold shore, and he just shrugs.

“because it gets empty.”

the answer should feel simple, but nothing with jeonghan ever is.

the wind is brutal that afternoon, cold enough to leave your cheeks numb. he’s wearing a black beanie pulled low over his hair and an oversized hoodie that swallows his hands whole. pretty in a way that feels unfair. quiet in a way that feels even worse.

you walk in silence for a while, listening to nothing but the waves crashing against the rocks.

it’s not uncomfortable silence. it never is. with him, silence feels like a conversation nobody else knows how to hear.

“you’re still walking that close to the water even though you hate getting your shoes wet?” he asks suddenly, eyes still fixed ahead.

you let out a small laugh.

“you pay way too much attention to me.”

“someone has to.”

your heart does that stupid little squeeze again. because that’s what jeonghan does. he says small things like they mean nothing while completely ruining you without even trying. or maybe he is trying. sometimes you think he knows exactly what he’s doing.

especially when he looks at you like that.

that long, quiet stare that lingers half a second too long.

like now.

you turn your head toward him and find his eyes already on you, soft and unreadable. he doesn’t look away immediately. he never does. he just stays there, watching you like he’s thinking about saying something.

but he never says it.

never.

“what?” you ask quietly.

the corner of his mouth twitches.

“nothing.”

liar.

the problem with being friends with yoon jeonghan is that he gives you just enough to keep hoping, but never enough to be sure.

he grabs your hand when you cross the street, but lets go too fast. falls asleep on your shoulder during long bus rides, then acts normal when he wakes up. texts you “did you get home safe?” after every single hangout. knows you better than anyone else. and still, when seungkwan called you two a couple last week, jeonghan laughed.

laughed and said,

“please. she only tolerates me because she’s patient.”

you laughed too. because it was either that or let everyone see the way your chest caved in.

the wind gets harsher near the rocks and you rub your hands together, trying to get feeling back into your fingers. jeonghan notices immediately. without saying anything, he grabs your wrist and pulls you closer to him.

his warmth seeps through the layers of your clothes instantly.

“jeonghan—”

“you’re freezing.”

“i’m fine.”

“liar.”

his voice comes out low. calm. way too intimate.

you hate the effect he has on you. you hate even more that you’d probably let him do anything he wanted with your heart and still thank him for it.

jeonghan keeps holding your wrist long after you stop shivering. and then the silence comes back. that dangerous silence.

waves crash against the shore. the sky slowly darkens above you. you can smell his perfume mixing with the cold salt air and somehow that feels unfair too.

because nobody should be allowed to look that beautiful while emotionally confusing someone at the same time.

“sometimes i think you do this on purpose,” you say before you can stop yourself.

he turns toward you slowly. “do what?”

“make me confused.”

his expression softens instantly. and somehow that hurts more than anything else.

jeonghan stares at you for a few long seconds. quiet. unreadable.

then he lets out a small breathy laugh, almost humorless.

“you think you’re the only one who’s confused?”

and there it is. there it is.

because suddenly everything changes. your heartbeat becomes unbearably loud.

“jeonghan…”

but he looks away toward the ocean before you can say anything else.

like he’s scared.

maybe he is.

“i like it here in winter,” he murmurs. “because the whole world gets quiet enough for me to hear my own thoughts.”

you swallow hard.

“and what do they say?”

finally, he looks at you again.

wind-tangled dark hair peeking out from under his beanie. pink nose from the cold. tired eyes that look painfully sincere for once.

“that i should’ve kissed you a long time ago.”

thinking about mingyu cooking for you late at night, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair a little messy, moving around the kitchen like he owns the place — except he keeps glancing at you every five seconds just to make sure you’re still there. you’re sitting on the counter, half sleepy, watching him with your chin in your hand, and he loves it. like, absolutely thrives on the attention. starts being a little extra on purpose, flexing his arms when he stirs something, pretending not to notice you staring, but there’s that tiny smile at the corner of his mouth giving him away. “what?” he finally asks, voice all soft but teasing, stepping closer until he’s right between your knees. you just shrug, murmur something like “you look good like this,” and he freezes for a second before letting out the smallest, shy laugh, ducking his head like you caught him off guard. but then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath, one hand coming up to tilt your chin just a little. “yeah?” he murmurs, suddenly all warm and low. “keep looking at me like that and i’m gonna forget what i’m doing.” and he still doesn’t move away. stays there for a second too long, thumb brushing absentmindedly along your jaw before he presses the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth like he couldn’t help it. then he pulls back, clearing his throat like nothing happened, going back to the stove — except now he’s smiling to himself, all soft and a little smug, and the food almost burns because he keeps turning around just to look at you again.

thinking about husband!seungcheol pulling you into his chest the second you curl up with that familiar ache, not even asking what’s wrong because he already knows, his hand slipping under your shirt to rest warm and steady against your lower stomach, rubbing slow circles like he’s memorized the exact pressure that makes you sigh instead of whine. you’re a little dramatic about it — soft sniffles, clingy fingers fisting in his shirt — and he absolutely melts for it, pressing a kiss into your hair and whispering, “my poor baby,” in that low, syrupy voice that makes your whole body go weak. when a cramp hits and you tense, he tightens his arm around you instantly, guiding your breathing with his, thumb pressing firmer against your skin while he murmurs soft praise like you’re doing something brave instead of just existing in pain. he adjusts the heating pad without you asking, tucks the blanket higher, brushes your hair off your cheek so he can kiss your temple properly, and the way he treats you, so careful, so devoted, makes you melt more than the warmth does. you go boneless against him, completely pliant in his arms, the ache fading into the background because his chest is solid against your back and his fingers keep tracing lazy, soothing patterns over your belly. he doesn’t stop touching you even when your breathing evens out, still rubbing gentle circles long after you’ve drifted off, pressing one last kiss to your forehead in the dark like loving you like this is the most natural thing in the world.

content: fluff, established relationship, late night conversation, soft affection

the hotel room is quiet in that soft way late nights always are. warm lamps, the hum of the air conditioner, the faint sounds of the city somewhere far below. it’s almost one in the morning. chan is sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders relaxed, hair messy from a long day, t-shirt slightly wrinkled from practice. he looks tired, but not in a bad way. just the kind of tired that comes after doing something you love for hours.

you’re standing nearby, brushing out your hair, moving slowly because the day drained you too.

he’s been quiet for a while. when you glance at him through the mirror, you notice he’s looking at you.

not casually. really looking.

“what?” you mumble, a small smile already tugging at your mouth.

he doesn’t answer right away. just tilts his head a little, eyes soft in that thoughtful way he gets when something is sitting on his mind.

“nothing,” he says quietly.

you narrow your eyes. “that’s not a nothing look.”

he lets out a small breath of a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before looking down at his hands for a second. “i was just thinking,” he says.

you walk over, stopping between his knees, arms loosely folded. “that’s dangerous.”

he snorts softly at that. then he looks up again. and this time his gaze is a little heavier. warmer.

“i think i like nights like this the most,” he says.

you tilt your head. “doing nothing?”

“doing nothing with you.”

it’s such a simple sentence it almost knocks the air out of your chest. the room stays quiet for a second, the lamp behind him casting a soft glow along his cheekbones.

“you’re cheesy today,” you tease, though your voice is softer now.

“i’m serious,” he says immediately, reaching out and resting his hands lightly on your waist, thumbs brushing absentmindedly against the fabric of your shirt. “today was loud. practice, everyone talking at the same time…”

he glances around the room. “but this?” he says. “this is nice.”

you study him for a moment. the relaxed shoulders, the sleepy eyes, the way his hands are still loosely holding onto you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re getting soft, lee chan.”

he smiles at that, a small one that barely lifts one corner of his mouth.

“only with you.”

your fingers slide into his hair without thinking, pushing the messy strands away from his forehead. he leans into the touch immediately, eyes fluttering shut for a second like a cat getting petted.

“tired?” you ask.

“a little.”

“we should sleep then.”

“in a minute.”

his hands tighten just enough to pull you closer until you’re standing right between his knees. his cheek presses lightly against your stomach, arms loosely wrapping around your waist. you laugh quietly, surprised by the sudden affection.

“chan.”

“mm.”

“what are you doing?”

his voice comes out muffled against your shirt.

“hugging you.”

“on my stomach?”

“it’s comfortable.”

you shake your head, but your hands move to his hair again anyway, scratching lightly at his scalp.

he melts instantly.

“see?” he murmurs. “this is what i mean.”

“what?”

he tilts his head back just enough to look up at you. his eyes are soft. sleepy. warm in a way that makes your chest feel full. “this is my favorite part of the day.”

you blink. “you saying that because you’re tired.”

“no,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “i’m saying it because when everything stops and it’s just us… it feels like i can breathe again.”

for a moment neither of you say anything. you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss into his hair.

“you’re really soft tonight,” you murmur.

he hums contentedly. “don’t tell the guys.”

you laugh under your breath. “your secret is safe with me.”

his arms tighten around your waist just a little more. “good,” he says quietly.

and for a long moment, neither of you move, just standing there in the quiet hotel room, wrapped around each other while the night slowly settles in.