(.◜◡◝)

year one.

elementary school is where all the social groups are formed. the popular kids, the weirdos, the losers no one likes. where you start forming your special cliques and learning what’s okay to say and not okay to say out loud ( you learn that part the hard way ). you start implementing social norms, and wondering why the boys in your class are so gross.

you learn what crushes are, no matter how silly they were. there were only a select few that felt appropriate to crush on—and the most popular of the few in your class was jaemin. he was neat(er); organized. he didn’t spend his time scribbling his papers with gross drawings, and that, for the girls, was enough to fall in love.

everyone stuck to their own small groups, whispered nothings and giggles coming from one side as the other didn’t even bother to hush down.

boys will be boys is often a phrase you found stupid, because why is that an excuse for letting them ‘tease’ on how ugly you are? the kind of ugly that had them groaning drawn out ‘ew’s, every laugh in your ear and finger pointed in your face. where it felt like everyone was looking at you, noticing and scrutinizing for your deepest insecurities.

jaemin hadn’t stood up to them necessarily, but the power of words had always been bullets to the head. “they’re not ugly.” three simple words, spoken without a glance up, but it got the boys to hesitate.

those words repeated got them to back off, and a small glare had them giving up, heading off to the other side of the classroom. you looked up to meet his eyes. brown, hardened by the act of threat, before softening when reaching yours. inviting, friendly. the picture of kindness.

“hi.” 

a bright smile that reached his eyes. dark brown hair that barely covered the top of his eyes.

and for the rest of elementary, you were met with sharp glares, words muttered under breaths, because of the person standing next to you. na jaemin, always at your side. he never left after that. promised he never would. with that stupid grin that made you believe anything he said, that distracted you from reality. 

na jaemin. hiding behind that smile.

year two.

the entire concept of putting tweens and teenagers all in the same building is beyond you. while elementary school was playing around with friends you just made, middle school jumped up another level. 

different classes, puberty, growing up in the midst of getting good grades and keeping up your social status because at this point you’re insecure and affected by what people think of you.

jaemin was still as popular as ever, having collected a few more people to join you two in your shenanigans. you still got a few dirty looks here and there, and you shrunk in on yourself whenever you noticed them; only for a comforting hand to find yours. he had the same smile.

the few individuals jaemin had collected included people called: jeno, mark, haechan, and an upperclassman by the name of yuta that he had mentioned to you once. you didn’t meet yuta until a few years later.

jeno was quiet. regarded as cold and distant, but when you learned to read him, he just wasn’t one to talk often. concentrated. face stuck in a neutral expression until it broke when he smiled. you’re not quite sure how jaemin managed to snatch him.

mark and haechan came in a package deal ( more like that haechan clung onto mark ). you just knew them from the bickering, mark’s loud laugh, and haechan’s tendency to have chaos follow him.

all of them were pretty faces. popular — now that popular was an important word — desired. girls tripping over themselves and even guys trying their move. they mostly got ignored. not necessarily in a rude way, but in the awkward wish as to not be speaking another refusal. when asked, they all fumbled with a quick excuse.

and for some reason, no one pushed. consumed by the feeling of disappointment to be bothered.

haechan had been complaining about the fifth girl that came up to him in math, talking about how everyone gave the same spiel; consisting of how long they’d liked him, how pretty they think he is ( which did nothing to help his evergrowing ego ), and then the age old question: would you go out with me?

this was a typical conversation between the boys, comparing different ways they’ve been asked out. from stupid to thoughtful to unexpected. but it all ended the same. rejection. spurning. 

when in doubt, avoidance is the way to go.

mark was teasing him about it, jeno was barely paying attention after making a small comment that got spoken over. you and jaemin were studying together under the shade of a tree, leaves rustling over a small zephyr, small flowers scattered and blooming with the grace of spring.

he was listing questions, having you answer them.

it was almost a perfect day out. the grass was the green shown in movies, the sky blue. white, fluffy clouds floating along, the sun out but not sweltering. that perfect four pm air.

a stronger breeze circled through, ruffling leaves and flowers. you tugged your coat tighter around your shoulders, continuing the small back and forth with jaemin, until he looked up, noticed something, and a small laugh fell from his lips.

he made eye contact with you, reaching up and plucking a small petal from your hair before making you lean forward so he could brush out the rest of the ones that had fallen from the tree. “reminds me of your eyes,” jaemin hummed, holding up the white petal, earning a small tilt of the head from you. “pure; pretty.” 

your cheeks tinted red. and he flicked the petal back into your hair. that stupid grin.

year three.

bright lights and the squeaking of sneakers against gym floors were all you’ve ever wanted to hear. to say you weren’t a sports person wasn’t particularly right. you enjoyed sports. just at times, especially when the team is currently losing and they aren’t going to win, it wasn’t your favorite thing.

you were sat halfway up the bleachers, watching haechan freak out on the bench whenever the ref made a bad call — or any call actually ( you’re mostly sure he just played because mark dragged him to ).

jaemin was at your side, mumbling under his breath about stupid plays, which always amused you, how invested he’d get sometimes. granted, it wasn’t often. 

you were here for jeno, mark, and haechan. all who weren’t currently playing right now, which confused you, because previous games had shown you that they were the only ones on the team who knew how to play — except one of the lower classmen: chenle. who was the self proclaimed mvp of every game.

he played in every quarter, and mark had mentioned it before, chenle was going to take over as captain once mark left. and watching chenle, he deserved it. he was good.

a loud whistle pierced your thoughts, and you raised your head up slightly to look at what happened. people in the bleachers were yelling and booing at the referee, and jaemin was muttering under his breath as well, glaring. 

and when the referees made the call to give two free throws, a loud outburst was called from the students. you can say for sure you had no idea what was going on.

jaemin stood up abruptly, reached down to grab your forearm, before pulling you up as well with him. “let’s go,” he spoke, his voice a small grumble.

“go where?” you stumbled after jaemin, and catching up with his steps got him to release your arm.

“we’re losing anyway, no reason to hang out.” he shoved his hands into his pockets, earning a small giggle from you when you noted how invested he was. you poked his bicep, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

climbing down from the bleachers, you offered a wave to a confused mark who had noticed the two of you, before following jaemin out of the exit of the gym.

“you know we’re not allowed to roam the school,” you spoke up when jaemin started heading down the hallway ( not that you were going to argue any further ).

“technically.” he shot you a smile, knowing you’d follow anyway.

the school was quiet. it was odd to hear, after knowing it full of loud and annoying students. it was almost peaceful — a place you’d enjoy being if it was like this every time.

you trailed after jaemin, watching the halls like you hadn’t memorized them years before. you couldn’t believe you were leaving next year. everyone told you that it went too fast — that as soon as you’re in high school, those four years would pass in a blink of an eye.

it made your skin itch. you weren’t ready for it to go. to leave.

“hey, where are you?” jaemin’s words cut through your thoughts. “looks like you’re off on an adventure,” he grinned, reaching out to poke your forehead. and you swatted his hand away.

“just thinking.”

“about?” he prompted.

you paused in your step, fingers fidgeting with each other. jaemin paused with you, and you took in the sight of him. one hand resting lazily in his pocket, the other at his side. turned slightly to face you, curiosity creasing his brow slightly. jaemin was so pretty.

“what we’re going to do. in the future,” you finally answered, earning a face from jaemin.

“we have years to figure that out, no point in worrying about it now,” he spoke immediately, voice underlined with soft laughter, stepping over to you. “years,” he reiterated, “we’re gonna be fine.”

your shoulders lifted in a shrug. and jaemin’s hands raised to hold your face. “you overthink too much, petal,” he hummed, and the way you had to tilt your head up slightly had him fighting back a small smile.

there was a time when you were taller than him.

“relax,” jaemin said, leaning forward and pressing a short kiss to your forehead. you relished in the feeling, the comfort. “we have time,” he promised again, thumb brushing under your eye. 

everything jaemin said, you couldn’t help but believe him. he said it with such conviction. the kind of tone that comes from the steady beating of a heart. confident, because you believe it won’t stop. reliance, because it shouldn’t stop.

“i know.” your agreement was like letting out a breath you’d been holding for years. he was right, anyway. you had time. you had so much time.

year four.

high school, freshman year is when you met yuta. by this point, you’d heard his name scattered around. whispered in every rumor — he was in that group of boys. the poisoned youth, the kids your parents warned you about when you were younger. the type you’d get caught dead hanging around.

they were known for dyeing their hair every month, coming to school whenever they wanted. walking into class twenty minutes late just because they felt like it. sauntering around as if they owned the place — and with the way they acted with the staff, you might just think they do.

you saw jaemin chatting with them once. twice when waiting for him after class. and when he noticed you, he’d bid them goodbye as if nothing happened. but it bothered you. itched at the back of your neck when you saw it, wondering what they could be talking about.

“it’s nothing, petal,” jaemin answered smoothly when you asked. and you had no reason to doubt him.

“you’re just talking?” you responded, biting the inside of your cheek. “they’re not good people, jaem.”

his gaze flicked up to meet yours. brown. that glint in his eyes, fire, warmth, softened at the sight of you. “we were just talking,” he repeated, voice small in confirmation. and the silence stretched as you both looked at each other. he pressed his lips into a thin line.

but it was jaemin. he had no reason to lie. “okay.” and that was it. eyes bright, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. and you blinked, snapping yourself out of it. this was jaemin.

you hated that you had to remind yourself.

“jeno’s tagging along for lunch —” jaemin started, changing the conversation after a moment, only for the voice of haechan to rip through his words.

“take me with youuuu!” echoed as the older rushed over, mark trailing calmly after him. “i want food,” haechan groaned, mumbling something about how he hadn't eaten all day as he clung to jaemin’s arm, earning a laugh from the group as mark shook his head.

“you ate half my lunch,” mark gave him a small look, and haechan sent the look right back. 

“you offered.”

“not half of it.”

jaemin and you looked at each other, rolling your eyes at your friends. 

but the feeling lingered. and yuta nakamoto was a person you started looking out for. 

it wasn’t long until he noticed — oddly perceiving for what he seemed to be. you figured you weren’t hiding it well, however. lasting gazes, sharp eyes, and half glares weren’t that difficult to miss. and he started watching you back. 

you learned new names. lee taeyong. johnny suh. huang renjun. all giving you the same eerie feeling, especially when their gaze met yours, as if they’d already been watching. as if they were observing you. studying you. you felt like a bug in a jar. parts of you regretted showing your animosity towards them.

especially when you bumped into the infamous yuta after school one day. his hair dyed with patterns of brown and blond. hazardous grin decorating his features, a glint in his eye. as soon as you met his gaze, you knew he knew. knew that you were apprehensive about him. knew that you noticed him talking to jaemin.

“sorry,” he smoothly started off the conversation. “am i in your way?” yuta hummed, unbothered and obviously had no intentions to move. you nodded despite. he decided to just get to the point. “i’m not doing anything with jaemin.”

“then why talk to him?” you immediately shot back, somehow finding it in you to speak up. 

yuta almost seemed stunned at your words — or the fact that you talked back — staring at you for a moment. “am i not allowed to interact?”

“you wouldn’t without a motive,” you said, resisting the urge to bite your tongue in sudden frustration.

“you don’t know me.”

“i don’t,” you admitted shortly, devoid of any hesitance. still edgy, still nervous, but always wanting to protect jaemin, “but i know enough.”

yuta raised his eyebrows slightly, before exhaling out a laugh. not quite mocking, not quite teasing. a mix of surprise and judgement. “you can’t believe everything you hear,” he hummed smoothly, a smirk tainting his features.

he would’ve been attractive if it weren’t for the cigarettes often hanging from his mouth, the group of people he surrounded himself with. the dangerous sparkle in his gaze. and your eyes narrowed. “leave jaemin alone,” words firm, stance grounded.

“i will,” he agreed too easily to make you feel any better. “i can’t help it if he comes to me, however,” the older evoked, looking you up and down once before heading off.

a chill ran down your spine, and you shifted uncomfortably. yuta gave you every unsettling feeling you could ever name. his last words seemed almost like a threat.

now that you’ve pissed him off, you’re worried what he’ll send.

but yuta didn’t send anything, not for a while. he barely looked at you anymore ( neither did the rest of his posse ), and he kept his promise of not talking to jaemin anymore.

relief was your first instinct, but confusion was your second. it felt off — yuta keeping his word. you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. anxious tapping on your thigh when that group passed you in the hall, cursory glances around corners as if he’d jump out from somewhere. yuta was dangerous — at least that’s what people told you, but it wasn’t hard to swallow.

of course jaemin noticed your antsiness. he always paid too much attention.

his hand brushed the small of your back when you tensed up slightly at the sight of yuta. “something wrong?” he questioned, worry creasing his features.

you shook your head too fast. he didn’t say anything about it. “no — i‘m fine,” you mumbled, gaze flicking from where you last saw yuta, before forcing yourself to focus on jaemin as he paused in the hall. “just . . . nervous. test.” you added merely so he wouldn’t be concerned.

he hummed, sliding his hands into his pockets as he looked at you. a moment too long to be unsuspecting. “okay, petal.” smile. trust.

there was too much lying tainting this friendship. it felt wrong to lie to jaemin, but you followed him to class anyway; keeping quiet, words souring your tongue.

“c’mere,” he hummed, reaching over and tugging you closer by your shoulders, his touch warm and comforting. to curtail your worry that he knew you weren’t telling him about. he turned his head to look at you, squeezed your bicep slightly. 

you let out a breath.

year five.

it was your first high school party that you managed to get into. it was loud, bright. strobe lights centered in the living room, stereos blasting with a mix of music too diverse to name a genre. drinks in the kitchen, snacks thrown messily on the floor by the second hour, and bedrooms filled up with horny teens.

you moved your way through the house — practically being shoved by the crowd and you finally found a free space, eyes darting around desperately for jaemin. parties really were efficacious in making newcomers never want to come back. a hand skimmed your arm and you jumped, looking up to find jeno.

“where’s jaem?” he questioned immediately, one hand in his pocket, the other one dropped to his side as he glanced up over the heads of people. jeno had shot up in height this year. not extremely noticeable, but he walked into school one day and suddenly stuck out more.

“where’s mark?” you responded, answering with your question.

jeno raised his hand again to point out the older, looking helpless, surrounded by a number of girls. “escaped,” jeno mumbled, shrugging.

you nodded in understanding. and scanned the crowd. your eyes met jaemin’s. 

and always, always comforting. warm. like the peace of a sunset. the knowledge that the day is over and you can rest. a reassurance only jaemin could offer, easement that made your entire being lighten. 

“hi petal,” he breathed, reaching you after awkwardly pushing through the stream of people. 

“hi jaem,” you responded, tightness fading.

“drinks are in the kitchen,” he hummed with a small smile, and you finally registered the slight glaze covering his gaze. not enough to shadow them, but there. you peeked around him to notice yuta looking your way. expectant as he exited the kitchen.

you couldn’t say you expected to get out of this party alcohol free but yuta always made your skin itch. and you couldn’t help but think that he had something to do with this.

you looked away once jaemin’s hand landed on your forearm. “everything okay?” he questioned. you instinctively nodded, staring at yuta a moment longer before someone blocked your line of vision. you swallowed thickly.

and someone ran into your side. haechan, who almost spilled the drinks he had on you. he managed to hold them upright, before shoving one into your hands, and the other to jeno.

“should i ask?” jeno questioned, holding up the red cup to his face, examining it cautiously. you could never trust anything with haechan. he went around telling everyone he had his first drink of alcohol at ten ( which in all honesty wasn’t hard to believe — true or not ).

“take it back,” you mumbled, half groaning after catching a whiff of it, holding it out to haechan. he grinned, pushing your hand back to your chest.

“trust me,” shaking his head, he mimed tilting your head back and taking a sip.

“you’re insane,” you deadpanned, but the drink left your hands when jaemin took it from you and immediately tried it despite your worried protests.

jaemin let out a quick breath as he lowered the drink, took a moment to think about it, before nodding in satisfaction. haechan smirked smugly. “i know my stuff,” he raised his chin upwards slightly, relishing in all the praise he wasn’t getting. he was probably complimenting himself in his head as usual.

“just a sip, petal,” jaemin hummed, urging the cup to you, and when you shook your head, he thankfully let it go and took another drink with a small shrug. he quickly got whisked away by haechan — assumably for more drink concoctions — and you turned your head to look at jeno who was still swirling around the liquid in the cup.

“something’s up with jaem,” you mumbled, crossing your arms loosely, watching the two boys go and try to save mark on their way to the kitchen.

“yeah,” jeno agreed hesitantly, tracing your gaze.

you bit the inside of your cheek, before reaching out and taking the drink in jeno’s hands, bringing it up to your lips and taking a sip — albeit tentatively — before you could talk yourself out of it. 

the male beside you made some sort of strained sound that sounded like: ‘wait’, but the liquid was already making its way through your system, and soothing the churning in your stomach ( at the cost of fog in your mind ).

you exhaled slowly through your nose, before confidently going out into the crowd. you weren’t sure what haechan had put into the drink, but you definitely were sure that it worked quickly, because in the next hour your worries had dissipated and your concerns had hidden.

your arms were up, carelessly feeling the music, mixed in the crowd of sweaty bodies and shitfaced teenagers. and then an arm snuck around your waist, pulling you against a chest. jaemin’s voice whispered in your ear. “hey petal.” he smelled of alcohol, but you’re sure you did too.

his breath hit your neck. goosebumps ran over your arms. you stiffened slightly. 

and then a kiss behind your ear. “you look like you’re having fun.” his voice was lower than usual. deepened with something you couldn’t name. intoxication, maybe.

“do i?” you responded, voice shakier than you had intended it to be, and your drink sloshed over the sides of the cup when jaemin shifted and pressed a soft kiss the crook of your neck.

he reached out and took it from your hand before you spilled it over yourself as he turned to put it on the nearest surface. “careful,” he hummed and spun you slightly so you were now facing him. tilting his head to admire you better, his focus flicked over your features. his eyes were still foggy. 

“you’re like a flower, petal. you keep getting prettier and prettier,” jaemin murmured, hooking a finger under your chin. he leaned closer, and your breath caught as his lips brushed yours before he pulled back abruptly, almost snapping back to reality. his lips parted, about to speak —

“cops!”

immediately the music and alcohol screeched to a stop, your thoughts caught up with your heartbeat, and everyone scattered. people running out the back door, escaping through windows, and you stood frozen in shock, seeing the familiar red and blue lights flashing from outside.

oh holy fuck you’re going to get arrested and have your permanent record stained. you’re going to become the shame of the family, and you didn’t even have your diploma yet. oh god you’re so permanently screwed.

and then you were being tugged outside, the cold air hitting your face as familiar laughter surrounded you. “keep up!” haechan spoke, interlocking his arm with yours and pulling you along into a run. air rushed around you as your feet hit the ground in an attempt to not stumble and fall. 

haechan finally slowed into a walk after what felt like forever, letting go of your arm. it took you a moment to register, but the whole group was there. laughing, exhilarated by the thrill of almost getting caught.

you found amusement filling you too, hysteric laughter overcoming, and moments later the five were on the ground, staring up at the stars, calming down.

somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered if the cops would go out searching, but for now it couldn’t bother you to care.

“we need to promise —” haechan’s voice sounded, “— promise to stay together.”

a quiet sound of agreement rippled through. “love you guys,” haechan added, sitting up, and causing a chain reaction. you turned your head, eyes meeting jaemin’s. maybe it was the alcohol that hadn’t been shocked out of your system, but something in his eyes made you pause.

once again, however, red and blue lights ripped through the moment. and the group scrambled up, running again, stiffled laughter following.

jaemin’s hand found yours. making sure you kept up, making sure you were still by his side.

year six.

“hot—!” haechan yelped when he tried to reach out and touch the pot, currently on the stove.

that caused a round of laughter from the group. “it’s on the stove, hyuck, of course it would be,” mark chided. it was now summer weather. and for the past week, you swear the boys haven’t left your house; claiming you had the best air conditioning.

right now they were trying and currently failing in making a fine dining ramen, jeno peacefully chopping up vegetables as mark and haechan tried cooking the noodles without losing their hands.

you were sat on the counter, watching them for your own entertainment. they had begged jaemin for help ( the only sensible one they could trust with a gas stove ) but jaemin just shook his head, an amused smile twitching at his lips. 

he had escaped somewhere halfway through the process, and hadn’t come back since, but everyone was too focused on not making this a complete disaster.

“i think it’s going well?” mark spoke, peeking at the boiling noodles.

“is it?” jeno mused, not bothering to look up from the cutting board.

“yeah mark, is it?” haechan reiterated, hand resting on the counter as he looked at mark, eyebrow raised, as if accusing him of something.

“is it?” mark completed the cycle, asking himself the question as he met haechan’s gaze, letting out a laugh.

“careful,” jaemin spoke when he came back, making sure jeno didn’t cut too close to his finger. the older nodded slightly, and jaemin stepped closer to you, leaning against the counter, watching mark and haechan as they added the flavoring packets into the noodles.

somehow no one got burned, and the three — who worked hard on the food — claimed to need a break, and they hopped off to the living room to steal your tv for the next few hours.

their voices could be heard from the living room, jeno’s full bodied laugh that you’ve only heard a handful of times, and mark’s endless giggling. probably at haechan’s expense. you couldn’t help but laugh too, even if you didn’t know what they were laughing about.

“they’re idiots,” jaemin commented, glancing at the contents of the pot, letting out a satisfied hum of approval. 

“they got the jaemin acceptance?” you smiled.

“it looks edible enough,” he responded. his voice was an easy, lazy drawl. as if he’d spent the day working and couldn’t wait to just rest.

and maybe he was tired, with the way he stepped back over to you, taking the spot in between your legs, his arms wrapping around your torso as he leaned in, resting his head in the junction of your shoulder and neck.

the action barely surprised you, and your arms came to wrap around him as well, shifting to make him more comfortable. his breath panned over your neck, slow, steady.

“good?” you spoke up.

jaemin didn’t answer for a moment. but then he nodded. “good.” his lips brushing your skin with the syllable. and then another pause of nothing, until he pressed a small kiss to your neck.

“i love you, petal,” he murmured. the words so familiar, yet so different. there was a certain undertone to them, something quiet, unspoken, something you knew wouldn’t ever be said outloud purely because it didn’t need to be.

just as you were about to respond, he lifted his head, face far too close to yours. 

something in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat. “hi,” you whispered, taking satisfaction in the way a smile spread over his lips.

that stupid grin.

“hi,” he responded in a similar soft tone, shifting his hands so they rested at your waist, fingers tracing shapes onto your skin through your shirt.

you took this time. took this time to accept the butterflies in your stomach, the lump in your throat, to take in jaemin.

one of your hands traced up to his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye, and his shoulders relaxed. you didn’t know when you had started inching closer. you didn’t know when your gaze flicked to his lips.

but you do know that he ducked his head at the last moment, letting out a soft hum. jaemin exhaled out something that resembled a laugh, before lifting his head again, meeting your gaze.

“we’re such idiots,” he huffed out, hands leaving your waist to hold your face in his hands. “i love you,” he reiterated, and his lips met yours.

it was soft, a feather brush of the lips. but there. intentional. and he pulled away just as quickly.

“i love you too jaem.” the words left your mouth before you could even think about them.

you swear he moved to lean in again. you swear something was behind his gaze before he shoved it away. something happy, excited. but the sudden disruption of mark echoed. 

“food is good, you guys have some yet?” mark questioned, walking into the kitchen before noticing the situation, and immediately covered his eyes, backing up. “didn’t see anything, didn’t ruin anything!” he yelped, only to bump into haechan, who therefore bumped into jeno, all three landing in an awkward pile. 

“what was happening??” haechan shoved mark off of him ( earning another yelp from the older ), sitting up to look into the kitchen, where jaemin had moved to stand beside you. 

both of you stifled a laugh when haechan let out a groan of disappointment.

“nothing was happening,” you spoke, leaning back on your hands, earning an unimpressed look from all three of the boys on the floor. “right jaem?” you glanced at the male at your side.

he stared at you for a moment too long. that excited spark fading slightly. “nothing,” he agreed with a small shrug.

“oh you have to be lying. i can smell the tension,” haechan spoke, pushing himself to his feet.

“ramen,” jeno spoke from his spot on the floor.

“what?”

“it’s the ramen. you didn’t turn off the stove.”

“what?”

year seven.

your worries lessened throughout the summer. jaemin hadn’t talked to yuta since that party — as far as you’re aware, and you really hoped you were right. 

junior year is where all the stress is; at least that’s what you’ve been told. figuring out where you want to go and balancing school with work. the two years earlier felt more stressful than this one, despite everyone complaining about the workload.

times had changed. haechan had spent most of last summer working, saving up for a car. he had gotten one, and despite the rusty look, he loved it.

the mornings had changed, from taking the bus to being picked up by haechan, squished in the backseat between jeno and jaemin. you had given up complaining about being in the middle.

mark had found a job at the local library, jeno was somehow surviving in the antique slash thrift store across the street from said library, and you and jaemin were still hunting for work.

hangouts at home changed to hangouts trailing after mark or jeno as they worked, rare moments between classes, and lunch. the world seemed destined to pull you all apart. and you were desperate to not let that happen. 

even so, it was peaceful; nice. no drama that you were involved in. no whispered rumors or mumbled gossip that could bother you. the library was quiet, the thrift store was comforting. jaemin was still jaemin as ever, haechan was still causing chaos whenever he could.

it was as if freshmen and sophomore year hadn’t happened. as if the weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe.

“get in quicker — mark ran late!” haechan exclaimed as you slid into the backseat, bumping into jeno on your way to the middle.

“it was you!” mark spoke, offended from the passenger seat. haechan didn’t respond, and sped off the moment your seatbelt clicked into place. you and jeno shared a small look, before you sat back, watching out the windshield as haechan drove to jaemin’s house.

jaemin was already out front, backpack slung over his shoulder and phone in hand as he sat on the porch steps. he quickly stood up when haechan yelled at him to get in, climbing in and swiftly buckling.

you glanced over at him, greeting on your tongue before it caught in your throat. “when did you do that?” jeno asked for the group, and jaemin grinned, threading a hand through his now silver dyed hair.

“yesterday,” he hummed innocently.

you felt something sick in your stomach. of course he could dye his hair, but he’d never mentioned it before. and not only did the color give yuta feels, he never did anything without consulting the groupchat first.

the group went quiet, before mark spoke up. “looks good, dude.”

that broke the tension. light chatter sparked as usual throughout the four boys, but you sunk down in your seat slightly, worry coursing through your body. 

arriving at school took another five minutes, but that had all of you rushing out of the car. the final bell rang in three. you glanced behind you to see jaemin meandering towards the doors, and you blinked, only to get pulled into the building by haechan before you could call to him.

there was something painstakingly off about him. something that had changed in that interval of a few hours where you don’t see him. but the moment you entered class, made eye contact with yuta in the back, you knew.

it was his senior year. his last chance to corrupt jaemin before he left. making your way to your seat after getting yelled at for pausing in the doorway, you couldn’t take your eyes off the older boy. he didn’t look away either. your eyes were narrowed, challenging, hiding the fact that you were scared.

scared for yourself. scared for jaemin.

scared of what he could do to jaemin.

your gaze snapped to the front when the lesson started. but you couldn’t get the thought out of your mind.

when lunch rolled around, you found the group at the normal table, and you took your normal seat next to jaemin. the one he always saved for you. normal. you wouldn’t deny that you dissociated for half the time, snapping out of it when jaemin nudged your shoulder with his, gifting you that stupid smile.

you reminded yourself to breathe. he hadn’t changed yet.

“why silver?” you questioned before the conversation could die off, reaching up to fix the strands of hair on his forehead. haechan spoke a small ‘get a room’ through a loud cough.

jaemin went quiet for a minute. too long. you were the one who told him to stay away from yuta in the first place. you knew he wouldn’t tell you. but at the same time he wouldn’t lie.

“a friend suggested it,” he finally said. too deliberate. too suspicious. and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“right.” was all you responded with. the space between you went taut as you pulled your hand away, and a guilty look he gave you when he thought you weren’t looking told you all you needed to know.

his hair stayed silver for weeks on end, and he even dragged you along to get it retouched every once in a while.

until he didn’t. 

the texts till midnight faded off to small ‘good nights’ at nine pm. his frantic notice of messaging you ‘EMERGENCY’ to get your attention changed to ‘petalllll’, patiently waiting for your response instead of spamming you. some might call it maturing, you called it concerning.

jaemin had always been bothersome in the most endearing way. and he never seemed to be at the risk of changing. which wasn’t particularly a bad thing, but it was too abrupt. too sudden for you to let it go easily. 

school was odd. he started pulling away then too. sitting across from you at lunch instead of being connected at the hip. his smile didn’t reach his eyes and the glint in his eyes looked too familiar. 

you found yourself at the library more often than not, craving for some nostalgia, hoping mark would be able to give that to you. granted, you just worriedly rambled, trailing along as he shelved books, but it was helping.

“somethings going on with him. the dyed hair, he takes hours to text back —” you sucked in a small breath. “i’m worried, mark,”

“i know you are,” mark responded, glancing at you. “but he’s probably just going through something. like that time jeno didn’t respond to us for weeks because his cat ran away.” the older shrugged.

you pressed your lips together. “but —”

“i know. it’s going to be fine,” mark interrupted you, offering you a pity smile.

and you swallowed, took a deep breath, nodded. trying to convince yourself using mark’s words. it’s going to be fine.

a hand came up to your shoulder, and you looked behind you to see jaemin. “hi petal,” he breathed, and immediately you knew something was wrong. you tensed, mark paused.

because the smell of cigarette smoke was infiltrating your senses.

“hi jaemin,” you spoke, voice weaker than you intended it to be. you cleared your throat.

the other let out a small hum of satisfaction as mark offered a greeting as well. jaemin tugged you closer, arm wrapped around your shoulders as usual. but it wasn’t the same, because you were tense. the one time jaemin’s presence hadn’t left you relaxed.

you weren’t calm, not even close to it. the cigarette smoke lingering on his clothes. that innocent grin. only smiling because he was high. he didn’t care if you knew or not, not now. and you’re scared that he won’t care even when it wears off. that he’ll stop caring, stop being jaemin.

apparently mark registered the look behind your eyes, because he reached out and tugged you over to him by your arm. jaemin’s face fell slightly, confusion crossing his gaze.

 “petal?” 

you looked up. jaemin’s eyebrows were furrowed, the start of a frown tainting his expression. mark squeezed your forearm. you drew strength from that. “yeah jaem,” you breathed.

he didn’t respond, watching you. the moment cracked when haechan came up from behind jaemin, practically jumping on him, the two almost falling over. all the apprehensiveness was suddenly gone from jaemin’s expression as he turned to haechan with a grin.

the smell of smoke was suddenly stronger. you could feel mark gripping your arm tighter.

it was almost suffocating, you felt your lungs constricting, and you wanted to pick up your feet and run as far away as you could. because not only was it jaemin, it was haechan too. forget being scared, you were terrified. like the world was crumbling underneath your feet. 

maybe it was dramatic, but you couldn’t feel any other way. not now. not when you could practically see them changing right before your eyes.

you couldn’t help but imagine a future where jaemin and haechan led jeno — mark as well — to follow them, leaving you completely, utterly, alone.

“i have to get home,” you spoke suddenly, and all the heads turned to you. “sorry,” you added, but the apology was mostly for mark, leaving him alone with them. you tugged your arm away before turning and practically running off.

year eight.

“petal!” echoed in the halls. you didn’t want to stop, but your feet seemed to pause anyway. jaemin always had that effect. 

“hey, it feels like you’re running away from me,” jaemin spoke after catching up, half out of breath from chasing after you. “i haven’t seen you in days.” he hummed.

“you saw me yesterday,” you reminded him, offering a small look his direction, trying to loosen the tension in your shoulders. at least the smoke smell wasn’t as distinct this time.

jaemin pursed his lips into a pouty frown. “i know, but we haven’t hung out.”

you didn’t respond, because you didn’t feel like lying and saying you had hung out recently. to be completely frank, you had been avoiding jaemin. purposefully reading his texts a few hours late, taking the wrong halls just to not bump into him. every time you saw him, that familiar sinking feeling settled into your stomach. suffocating.

“been busy then?” jaemin answered for you, peeking around to look at your face.

“job hunting,” you agreed shortly. it wasn’t a lie. you’d been job hunting for months. it seemed that no stores needed help anymore.

jaemin nodded. “the library?”

“tried already,” you shook your head.

“dream cafe.”

“apparently they hired five people last week,” you mumbled.

“really? but they’ve had that ‘hiring’ sign up for years,” jaemin reached up to fix his hair. still silver. “crazy timing,” he let out a small laugh, the kind that was forced, trying to ease the tension.

“yeah,” you agreed. jaemin’s eyebrows furrowed at your response, and he peeked at your face again.

“are you okay?” he asked, gaze flicking over your features. “you’re . . . acting off.”

“am i?” you mused; sarcastically if you looked close enough. 

jaemin hesitated. “yeah, petal.” he spoke quietly, almost weakly, as if he had finally gathered why you were so off. “i’ll see you later?” he offered after a silent moment, already backing up and giving you a wave.

you hated how stiff the conversation was. taut. awkward. stepping carefully as if to not set off a minefield. 

you supposed it was your fault.

jeno said the same thing after school. “granted, it’s also jaemin’s. he knows you don’t like what he’s doing,” the older added — probably just to make you feel better.

“you can’t be okay with this either, jeno,” you defended yourself, pressing your lips together.

he glanced at you, leaning against the counter slightly. it was a slow day, but you were sure jeno was fond of that. he never did like working the register. “i never said i was,” he finally said. too slowly for your taste.

tilting your head earned a small sigh from jeno. “i’m not okay with it.” words reverted, corrected, and you nodded in satisfaction. jeno rolled his eyes. “maybe you should focus on something else,” he mumbled. “maybe your grades? you only have one year left, you know,” he raised an eyebrow in your direction.

you made a face at him. “my grades are fine, thank you.”

jeno let out another sigh. “he’s going to be fine, okay? it’s jaem. he’s smart,” he tried again.

“mark said the same thing.” your gaze flicked to the side, uncertain. you couldn’t tell if it was genuine reassurance, or they just wanted you to get off their back.

jaemin never tended to follow the crowd — always one to diverge from the path, to push through foliage and leaves until he found the shortcut. so when he did end up in that crowd, it wasn’t hard to believe that he’d get lost. influenced by the wrong people, unaware of it happening.

which is what you wished was happening. you wished he was too naive, too gullible. but he wasn’t. jaemin knew exactly what he was doing.

that’s the worst part. he knows. and yet he still does it.

you knew he knew.

he knew you knew.

jeno’s customer service voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you glanced up from the counter, then down again, before doing a double take. hair dyed red, long, and somehow styled perfectly. sharp gaze, decorative chains and rings and necklaces.

yuta. 

you hadn’t seen him for a while. passing each other in school, maybe, but even then, you didn’t see him as much.

it was his last year. that was what you kept repeating to yourself. surely his effect wouldn’t last while he was gone. surely jaemin would go back to normal.

jeno offered you a side glance as he pressed a few buttons on the register, neatly folding the jacket that the older had picked out. you didn’t catch it, still unable to look away from yuta. and jeno offered a bag, turning away to grab it when he got a nod in response.

and finally, yuta met your gaze. eyes sharp, telling. if only you knew what story they were trying to thread. “thanks.” his voice was a slow drawl, hand coming up to collect the bag jeno offered. he didn’t look away from you.

“thank you for coming,” jeno spoke, in return, leaning on the counter, palms flat against the top. the smile yuta offered in return had you fighting back a shudder.

apparently yuta knew too.

knew that he won. that he got jaemin on his side.

if there were even sides to this. instead of just pathways. the walk of life. and yuta had pushed jaemin to the left fork in the road. you were still trying to drag jaemin back.

although . . . speak of the devil and he shall come. because there was the shimmer of silver hair — the one that almost sparkled in the sunlight. you knew because jaemin had shown you once, too adorably excited about it. especially when you offered the random glitter you had in your room at the time ( you were still finding glitter in your room ).

jaemin stepped up to yuta’s side, his expression falling immediately at the sight of you and jeno. like he hadn’t expected you to be there, like he hadn’t wanted you to be there.

you’re sure your expression fell too.

you couldn’t bother to pay attention to your features, instead stepping out and immediately grabbing jaemin’s wrist, pulling him away from the other two.

you’re also sure jeno shot a helpless look at the back of your head.

“jaem, i thought i told you he was bad for you.” you immediately hushed your voice down, despite the fact you had tugged jaemin away and yuta probably wasn’t bothering to listen.

it was a stark contrast to how indifferent you had acted before. you regretted it. you should’ve had this conversation earlier. 

the sad thing is, you did. you swear you’ve had this conversion with jaemin hundreds of times ( most of which were probably in your head ), and yet he was still here. still doing it.

“he’s not, petal. i swear.” jaemin always had this tick when lying. he’d press his lips together into a thin line. 

and you hated how you knew that, because why wouldn’t you? why wouldn’t you know jaemin’s every give away, his every microexpression? you were his best friend.

the utter thought of that pained you. you were his best friend. you thought you were his best friend but — 

well, you didn’t know if he thought that anymore.

“jaemin,” you almost pleaded. you weren’t sure if you were pleading for him to stop, for him to come back to you, or both.

he swallowed. glanced back at yuta, and then to you. “i’m sorry,” jaemin mumbled, hand coming up to scratch his cheek nervously.

“jaemin.” you probably sounded too desperate.

he glanced at yuta once more, pausing before his eyes flicked to meet yours. “what, petal?” he finally spoke after a suffocating silence. “i’m sorry.” something in his gaze had changed. something hardened, something that had your stomach settling uneasily. “people grow apart, they stop talking — what excuse do you want? move on,” and your name slipped past his lips.

jaemin had this talent of stealing your breath away. but he was the one that always reminded you to breathe afterwards, albeit this time he didn’t seem to want to give it back.

you had described suffocating before, but this was drowning. and the sea was winning.

it was jaemin collecting every soft kiss on the cheek, every three am text thread, every smile and tease ever interchanged, and using them as the kindling of the fire desperately trying to keep him warm.

but then a spark.

maybe you were just grasping at threads. non-existent threads.

but his lips pressed together. one, thin line.

year nine.

jaemin had been the only thing on your mind recently. granted, he was always there, but he was never so distinct. it was like he had consumed you. cracked every part of you inch by inch until you were painfully, excruciatingly —

“calm down,” a loud voice spoke, too close to your ear. and you jumped slightly, leaning away from the sound. “you think too much,” chenle mumbled.

“i have a headache,” you groaned.

summer was spent connecting. for some reason, somehow. it wasn’t even your plan ( your summer plans consisted of hiding from the sun and crying in your room ), but you got roped into it. and you needed company. mark was busy, haechan was who knows where ( granted you’ve been slightly avoiding him too ), jeno tried his best but he’d been on vacation all summer. and jaemin —

“you poor thing,” renjun hummed, patting your back, albeit the action felt condescending.

renjun actually wasn’t really one of yuta’s posse members, not like you had originally thought. he just tagged along once, got roped up into their antics, and then left as soon as it went too far.

the sun was out, the clouds were fluffy, the sky a shade of blue that felt too pretty for human eyes. and school started tomorrow. you’d barely seen jaemin all summer. texting him was a rarity — him responding was even rarer. now you’d have to face him tomorrow. because for all you knew, haechan was the easiest way to get to school.

renjun doesn’t have a car, chenle hasn’t bothered to learn how to drive yet. you’d just have to hope and pray that they hadn’t forgotten about you.

“when’s jisung getting hereee, it’s hottt,” chenle complained, dragging out the syllables for added effect, shifting on his spot on the picnic table as he pulled out his phone, checking the group chat for any updates.

“it’s been five minutes, le,” you mumbled, also pulling out your phone to check. 

“five minutes too late,” the younger responded, pursing his lips into a pout as he started typing out a message to assumably yell at jisung.

renjun shared a look with you, one of pure exasperation, and you smiled. jisung and chenle were underclassmen. you had bumped into the group randomly on one of your pity walks — the ones where you haul yourself outside so you can say you hadn’t rotted in bed all summer — and for some reason they sparked a conversation. 

chenle had recognized you, jisung didn’t know who you were. renjun offered an awkward start.

so here you were now, at the end of summer after hanging out with the friends you didn’t know your entire life. and you missed mark. you knew he’d laugh too loudly at chenle’s jokes, haechan would love messing with renjun, jeno would be jeno, and jaemin . . . he’d fit in too well and it hurt. 

it hurt because you missed him. painfully so. everything hurt. 

“i just got here. stop being so melancholy,” jisung mumbled as he sank into the seat next to you, nudging your arm with his to snap you out of your thoughts again. “this jaemin is a jerk, i don’t know why you’re sad about him.” he shook his head slightly.

you knew their opinions of jaemin. the topic had slipped out one time when they asked where your other friends were. it was a messy evening of disgusted and offended expressions, chenle’s loud dolphin screech when defending you, and jisung’s small mumbles of how you shouldn’t feel bad. renjun already knew most of it anyway.

“because —”

“you were friends for your entire life,” chenle interrupted, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “we know. but friends grow apart, just how life works.”

you went quiet, fidgeting with your hands, and the silence followed you, until it was broken by a small yelp of pain from chenle who sent renjun a sharp glare.

“i mean—sorry?” chenle turned back to you with a shrug. 

a hand found yours, and you glanced to the side to see jisung offering you a small smile. he squeezed your hand. you couldn’t help but offer a smile in return. 

jisung was a comfort you had found in the passing days. 

sure, chenle and renjun were good friends, but jisung was soft. quiet, and peaceful in the way that it settled your antsyness. he was like jaemin — what jaemin was to you before.

you tried desperately not to think of jisung as a replacement.

“come on guys, we’re already late,” jisung spoke up, distracting chenle effectively, and the male stood up from the picnic bench, pushing himself up, palms flat against the wood.

“jisung’s right, let’s go,” he hummed, shifting and happily hopping off, not looking back to see if you three were following.

you huffed out a small laugh, before moving and pulling jisung along with you, glancing to make sure renjun got up too.

the world seemed to want to match your mood that morning. the blue from yesterday had faded to a gloom, a grey cloud cover holding the sun back from shining. you were sat on your porch, staring at your text thread with haechan. ‘hey can you still pick me up?’ from you, highlighted by that familiar blue, and the words ‘read, 6:54 am’ right under them. 

no response, not even one of those thumbs up reactions. though you knew avoiding haechan all summer wouldn’t help with that.

it was seven thirty. routine was him showing up at seven ten. you clicked off your phone, letting out a small sigh, standing up. the school wasn’t that far. just enough walking distance to be annoying, but not painful.

your name was called, and you immediately looked up, finding the familiar action of haechan gesturing for you to get in, his car in front of the sidewalk, mark in the passenger seat as usual. 

you stepped over, climbing into the backseat, letting out a quiet, relieved breath to yourself. “where’s jeno?” you questioned, buckling as haechan started driving.

“he got a car apparently,” haechan answered, giving you an eye roll through the rearview mirror, “his parents and grandparents helped pay for it.”

“we get it, you worked hard for yours,” mark spoke, exasperated like he had heard this story before — he probably had — but a grin was on his face.

“why does he get his for free??” haechan whined.

“anyway, he’s picking up jaem, so you have the backseat to yourself,” mark ignored haechan’s pitchy complaints as he turned slightly to look at you.

“oh,” you said, a mix of relief that you wouldn’t have to be squished in between them anymore, but then came the dread. you had prepared yourself all morning to face jaemin, and now you had to wait an extra ten minutes. “thank god,” you added after a silent moment to avoid getting a pity look from mark.

the older stared at you for a moment, before turning back to sit right in his seat. and you slouched slightly, half listening to haechan’s continued envious complaints about jeno’s car.

you watched mark and haechan interact, feeling a slight relief that haechan didn’t question your sudden disappearance from his life. mark had told you a few months ago that haechan had immediately quit smoking after that moment anyway.

you turned to look out the window, attempting to prepare yourself.

when the familiar sight of the school building faded into view, you forced out a breath. haechan practically dragged you out of his car after he parked, and you listened in as he told you about his eventful summer.

part of you wanted to go find jaemin. the other wanted to run to your first period and start planning out all your routes of avoiding him while also not being a complete loner. you’d have to text chenle for his schedule. he probably knew renjun’s and jisung’s already too.

the second part of you won out, and you waved mark and haechan a goodbye, slipping out of the latter’s grip to head to your first period.

you wished it could’ve been a normal first day like usual. where you and jaemin somehow immediately find each other — where you practically always have the same schedule, and walked to class together. always.

a third part of you wished that your schedules were the same.

and a fourth wished they were different.

taking a seat near the middle of the classroom, you glanced at the board, before sliding down in your seat slightly, letting out the nth deep-sigh-of-resignation breath today.

the bell rang five minutes later. no jaemin. you didn’t know whether you wanted to let out a cheer or a disappointed cry. when the teacher walked in, the joyful first day activities began. you were trying to listen as they rambled about grade percentages, icebreakers, and themselves, but all your attention was stolen when the door opened. 

jaemin walked into the room like a ghost from your past. but he didn’t look the same. the jaemin you remembered had fire in his gaze. warmth, comfort. this one had ice. cold, dark indifference.

his hair was dyed a dark blue. dark enough that it could pass as black. his natural hair color. you wondered if that was on purpose, but you knew that nothing in his life was about you anymore.

you looked up to meet his eyes as he surveyed the room. brown, hardened by the act of threat, but they didn’t soften this time. he barely even looked at you, flicking away to look over your head for an empty seat. and he maneuvered through, brushing past you.

ignoring the way your heart sunk to your stomach was a task. but you don’t know what you were hoping for.

the summer of silence had said enough.

though the whispers that followed him were new. 

not that jaemin hadn’t gotten a multitude of rumors with his name before, but these were tense. words of how he’d stolen from convenience stores, how he had just picked something up and walked out with it.

there were mentions of drugs, alcohol, sex.

the third part of you knew they weren’t true, at least not all of them. though rumors came from a sprinkle of truth. 

“na jaemin,” the teacher spoke the moment jaemin sat down. apparently he’d made enough of a name of himself for the teachers to already know him. “please refrain from being late and interrupting class, won’t you?”

jaemin didn’t answer, slouching in his seat slightly, turning his head to look out the window. and the whispers started up again.

the moment the bell rung, you stood up to go find chenle, hating the way you almost fell over to keep from bumping into jaemin. he spared you something that barely resembled a glance, but you didn’t stick around.

blood was pounding in your ears and you felt so stupid for being on the brink of tears.

“hey —” a familiar voice caught up with you, and you were so painfully thankful to hear it.

“hi jeno,” you responded, but at that point you were already pulling him into a hug, hiding your face in his chest. your voice was barely audible, muffled against his clothing.

“hey,” jeno replied, with the same word, though softer this time, like he already knew what was going on inside your head. and his arms wrapped around your middle.

you stayed like that, in the middle of the hall, surely being the biggest annoyance to other people, until jeno let go and pulled you over to the side, ducking his head down slightly to meet your eyes. “you okay?” he questioned, worry creasing his features.

“she’s fine.” chenle’s voice came from out of nowhere, and you looked to your side to see the male staring jeno down like he had personally offended him.

you blinked, forcing your tears away as you let out a small laugh. “it’s fine lele,” you mumbled, removing yourself from jeno’s arms when you felt the pressure of jisung’s stare after he had come up from behind chenle. “this is jeno.”

chenle’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape, and his hardened expression immediately cracked. “wasn’t sure — better safe than sorry!” he chirped, offering a smile to jeno, who merely blinked in return.

“you already saw him?” jisung spoke, keeping his voice quiet like someone would be listening in. his hand came up to yours, interlacing your fingers.

you nodded, swallowing down the emotions threatening to spill over again. you didn’t think it would’ve been that hard.

jisung squeezed your hand. and you forced your eyes up from where they had fallen to the floor, noting the way jeno’s eyes seemed to be trained on your hands. 

“so where’s your next class?” chenle interjected, moving to distract you, shoulder bumping against yours as he led you on to start walking again. you didn’t let go of jisung’s hand, ultimately leading him along as well.

jeno took the spot next to chenle.

your mind flashed to a vague remembrance of your schedule. you shrugged, earning an eye roll from chenle as he proceeded to drag you to his next class instead.

year ten.

you’re not sure you could get any lower. 

you’re pretty sure your heart shatters over again every time you see jaemin. you wonder if you could sue the school for giving you and jaemin the same schedule — but last year you would’ve been cheering, jumping up and down with jaemin.

he’s changed his hair at least three times throughout the school year. from dark blue to blond, to light brown, and currently settled at a light pink.

his favorite color; if it was still his favorite color. or maybe he had changed that too.

‘come by the library?’ was the first notification you got after school, mark’s contact name popping up on your screen, and you shoved your phone back into your pocket, turning on your heel to head in the direction of the library.

you pushed the door open once you got there, relishing in the peaceful quiet of the place. you wondered why you didn’t go to the library as often — it was a nice break from everything. 

a quiet call of your name snapped you back to reality, and you turned to see mark gesturing you over, a cart of books at his side. 

“hey,” he hummed, and his tone of voice had you pausing slightly.

“hey,” you reiterated his greeting, although yours was slower, more cautious.

“jaemin texted me,” mark spoke, reiterating your tone this time, meeting your gaze, hand pausing halfway up to the shelf before he shoved it where it was supposed to go.

you bit your tongue. “oh.” you tried your best to keep your tone neutral, flat, even. it’d been too long for it to still have an effect on you ( that’s what you told yourself ).

mark continued. “he asked about you.”

“oh.”

that earned you a stare from mark, to which you responded with a stare back, and mark unlocked his phone to hand it to you.

you tapped to messages, jaemin’s contact, then scrolled up a bit until you saw ‘petal’. and you paused, starting your downwards scroll, scanning the messages.

‘petal hates me right’ was the first thing that really caught your eye, and your movement stalled, swallowing slightly.

you didn’t. you really didn’t hate him, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much chenle, jisung and renjun thought you should.

the way your heart stuttered every time you saw him was traitorous. in nerves, embarrassment, anything else — you couldn’t answer.

“you okay?” mark questioned, noting the look in your eyes. he reached out and took the phone from you, keeping you from seeing anything else. the way his finger twitched let you know that he regretted showing you.

“fine,” you mumbled.

mark let out a small breath, slow, knowing. 

“i’m going to head home.” the words left your mouth shortly. 

“stay safe,” mark spoke softly.

something bad was going to happen. you knew it the moment jaemin’s contact popped up on your notifications. the dread had started since you had read the text. and the uneasiness had settled in your stomach when you had typed back without thinking.

min  11:42 pm     can we talk?

you  11:49 pm     yeah

min  11:49 pm     okay

min  11:50 pm     i’m coming over

coming over. 

face to face. 

to talk.

you didn’t even know why you had agreed. your fingers had moved before you had even thought of a response. maybe it was years of practice. jaemin whining at you when you took too long to respond, that you had fell into this habit of responding in at least the next minute.

if that was even a thing.

you spent the ten minutes it took to get from his house to yours sitting on the couch, practically rocking back and forth, wondering why it took fifteen minutes instead.

until jeno’s car pulled into the driveway, and you were at the door even before jaemin knocked.

he did. the sound echoing through the room like some sort of impending doom. your hand grasped the doorknob, turned it, pulled. 

and there he was. jaemin — your jaemin. the one who had that everlasting sparkle in his eyes, the one who giggled at everything cute and snatched up everything even remotely pink.

“your hair’s pink,” you blurted out, despite already knowing this information.

jaemin’s gaze flicked up, as if seeing the color for the first time. he shrugged. “yeah.”

you swallowed before stepping aside, letting him in. the silence was long, painfully so. neither of you spoke. the only echo being the click when you closed the door.

your eyes traced his features like you hadn’t seen him in years. and it felt like it. that you haven’t seen your jaemin since yuta entered the picture. his eyes were soft, not the cold exterior you saw in school, but almost back to that soft brown. warm. guilt ridden.

“i’m sorry petal,” he finally broke the silence, saying the words you’d been thinking of for the past year. “i’m so fuck — i’m so sorry,” he whispered. not the strain where he was forcing them out, but the strain where the words had been wearing at his vocal cords for months, where the pressure of them had been pushing on his thoughts, where it caused an endless headache if he didn’t get them out, if he didn’t mean them.

you didn’t respond. couldn’t; not when relief flooded your eyes, not when it felt like your throat was closing up. you didn’t think you’d get him back, not your jaemin.

but now here he was, standing in front of you, shoulders shrinking into himself the longer you stayed quiet.

“jaem.” his name was an exhale, one that urged him to look up.

your eyes met. staring, unwilling to look away. and something clicked.

you weren’t sure what — maybe your friendship, maybe a silent agreement, maybe, maybe, both of you looking at each other, and finally realizing everything. the small, tiny details. the ones neither of you had talked about in months.

you found yourself crashing into jaemin’s arms, which wrapped around you. securely; the reassurance only he could offer, relaxation that made your entire being lighten.

a small laugh fell from his lips — though someone could say it sounded more like the start of a sob.

you don’t think you’ve ever felt so relieved in your life, not because jaemin was crying, but because now you knew you weren’t losing him, you hadn’t lost him.

“i love you, petal — i can’t — i can’t just apologize for doing — leaving you —” jaemin stumbled over his words, slightly muffled by the way he spoke them into your shoulder. his grip tightened, obviously straining.

“i love you too jaem,” you whispered back, and the words weren’t romantic, they didn’t need to be. because you both did love each other — too much for it to be expressed in a three word sentence, far too much for it to be ruined by vacuous stares.

he pulled away slightly, just enough to meet your eyes, a wisp of space between you two. you could see the slight glimmer in his eyes. the threat of tears. 

something in you stitched itself back together again. your hands traced up to cup his face, thumbing under his cheek as if catching the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. 

he started leaning in before you did. and the moment your lips met his felt like you’d gone home. it was years, years, of shared looks, sinking hearts, and smiles that were only there for each other.

jaemin’s hands came up to rest on your wrists, holding your hands in place, keeping you steady, centered, grounded. when he pulled away his eyes met yours again. his lips parted to speak, only for a small ding to interrupt the conversation.

the two of you let out a small laugh, and your hands dropped from his face. “you should check that,” you whispered, not wanting to risk breaking the moment by being too loud. “it’s late, might be your mom.”

jaemin nodded, heart sinking at the loss of your touch, before he pulled out his phone, earning the sight of a notification from jeno that read: ‘dude where did you even go’

another one popped up: ‘can you ask before stealing my car at midnight’

then a third one: ‘come back before my mom notices 💔’

jaemin huffed out another soft laugh, “i have to go,” he hummed, texting jeno back before sliding his phone away. “i’ll see you tomorrow? and we can talk? fully?” hope lingered in his eyes.

your smile was something jaemin couldn’t help but lean in to kiss again. a small noise of surprise slipped from your throat, eliciting another peck from him ( cuteness aggression ).

“jaem — jaem —” you giggled, reaching to hold his face in your hands again, keeping him from leaning in a third time. “you have to go,” you reminded him.

“right,” he whispered, not moving.

you let out a small hum, and another notification from his phone got him to straighten up slightly.

“okay,” jaemin mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “tomorrow,” he promised. and you nodded, watching him step back and bump into the door before opening it and slipping out with a small wave.

you glanced at the window, watching jeno’s car pull out of the driveway. and you let out a soft breath, relief surging through you for the nth time. god you loved him.

the multitude of jokes should’ve prepared jaemin for this — his life flashing before his eyes. and of course, the first thing was you.

when he was eight years old he had made the best decision of his life. speaking up and saving you from the jerks who thought you were anything but pretty. you had caught his eye on the first day of school, and he’d went home that day asking his mom about love.

when he was thirteen he knew it was you. maybe not romantically, but he knew you were his soulmate. the moment pink stained your cheeks and the nickname petal first slipped from his lips. it fit you painfully well. pretty, pure, soft.

and when he was fourteen he now realized he made you a promise he couldn’t keep. because you didn’t have any more time — not with him anymore. he wished you did.

jaemin knew you were lying. fifteen years old, seven years of friendship and he knew you like the back of his hand. how couldn’t he, with the way his eyes barely fell from you. but he had brushed it off, pushed it aside without talking about it. he should’ve asked.

sophomore year and he regretted everything — especially pulling away. especially not just leaning in and finally . . something could’ve started so much earlier, instead of the years of pinning, of knowing glances yet nothing happening.

seventeen left him dazed and confused, heavy with rejection. he couldn’t tell you how long he stayed up after that, how long he felt your lips lingering against his, your confession echoing in his head and yet he still didn’t address it. neither did you.

the silver hair he adorned for junior year, and mark joked that it had seeped into his head. maybe it had — maybe he could blame everything he’d done on hair dye poison. maybe he could rewind time and promise you it wasn’t your fault.

and maybe he should’ve told you that he had lied. that every single word of his in that fight wasn’t true, that he hadn’t changed, that he hadn’t grown apart.

yet all he left you with was a lingering kiss and a promise that he’d be back.

but he wouldn’t be coming back. 

not with the screeching tires in his ears, the loud honking, and the headlights of a car at his side.

god, he loved you. of course you would be the last thought on his mind.

you woke up to your phone buzzing on your night stand. groggy, tired, and half expecting it to be jaemin, you picked up without glancing at the caller id — jeno’s voice filling your ear.

“hey —” choked, tearful.

“jen?” you responded, panic surging through your voice. “hey, what’s —?”

“jaem. it’s jaem.” whispered. “fuck, y/n —”

“jeno, what’s happening,” you whispered back, heart racing, pushing yourself into a sitting position.