𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑦 ♡︎

Chan was getting pretty sick and tired of organizing stickers. 

There’s really no point; considering the display was just going to get rifled through again within the next hour, and all his hard work and adhesive-residue fingers will be for naught.

Some of these stickers’ designs were terrible anyway. The brand logos he can give a pass–and his personal favorite, “The Goose is Loose” wanted poster, that one’s pretty good–but why there’s copious amounts of “i love boobies” he’ll never know. 

But, hey, a paycheck’s a paycheck so who’s he to judge. 

Despite some of the, albeit weird, setbacks, Chan wouldn’t say he hates his job. Working at Zumiez was chill; the general crowd was full of like-minded people who appreciate good, quality skate clothes and parts that they can just pop in for during their visit to the mall. He’d made some good friends through their regulars, even finding out a few went to his university.

Then there’s always the young teens who either like the aesthetic better than the Hot Topic downstairs (as they should, that place can burn), or who are interested in getting started with their first skateboard and have no idea where to begin. Building their boards and walking them through the process—while giving some of his own tips—is always the highlight of Chan’s day. 

And if he’s able to get discounts on said parts for his own boards? Hell, he’ll take it. 

Working in the mall itself was interesting. All of the stores were crammed in every which way, yet they still somehow managed to be far bigger than you’d expect; complete with giant entrances that display the vibe of each establishment pretty accurately. 

And it’s through this entrance, technically two of them, that Chan looks through now.

He’s finished with the sticker display and presently stands behind the register with his face propped up in his hand. It’s slow right now, just some guys in the back looking at trucks–with Vernon helping them–so there’s no one to give Chan grief for slacking. 

Thus, he watches; eyes wandering past the entrance to his workplace and out into the mall’s white interior. His brain has been desensitized to filter out the usual bustle, barely even registering each person that passes by. Instead he opts to focus his gaze into the shop across the way: Tii Cup.

Or, more specifically, to the person working the counter inside the boba shop. 

He doesn’t know their name. All he knows is that ever since they started working there three months ago, and he realized that their shifts almost always lined up with his, he hasn’t been able to get them out of his head. 

Chan’s seen his fair share of attractive people; everywhere in LA from his uni to this mall is full of them, a beautiful range of styles and personalities as far as the eye can see. But there’s something about them in particular that he can’t seem to look away from. 

Everything enticed him; from the hints at their style, white and pink accessories adorning their head and soft frills peaking out from the stark black of their uniform, to the way they carry themselves, confident and friendly, greeting each customer with a smile. 

And that smile, that damn smile.

Even from across the mall, he knows that smile radiates enough warmth to rival concrete that’s been baking in the California sun for several hours straight. 

And, oh…what he’d give to feel even a drop of its shine directed towards him; and learn how to make it stick around forever.

It’s never obvious when your whole life is going to turn on its head, is it? Chan never thought so at least. Sure, there were surprising moments, but they usually never amounted to much past that. 

So there he was, rummaging around in the back for something that a customer requested; a customer that Vernon was helping—so why is he the one having to go box diving like it’s an extreme sport? Whatever, he found what he needed and shut the supply closet door with his foot. A faint clatter rang out behind him, sounding a little too close to one of the bigger boxes on the higher shelves deciding to jump ship.

Chan winces, but opts not to acknowledge whatever damage is behind those doors in favor of leaving it as payback for Vernon later.

He steps out onto the floor again and beelines to where Vernon waits by the case of skateboard wheels. Chan shoots him a small glare, stepping behind the counter and handing the customer their requested item: Slime Balls, in a nice teal color with light up LEDs. A solid set of wheels; they have good taste.

The customer completes their purchase, with the addition of one of the dreaded “i love boobies” stickers–Chan has to resist the urge to strangle himself–and exits the shop. 

Chan’s eyes trail after them, casually drifting around the shop again. There’s a few more customers milling about; a mother helping her son try on skate shoes, a couple browsing the wall of jeans, and some poor soul in the back who can’t seem to make up their mind on which deck decals they wanted.

Chan could only chuckle at their struggle before his gaze is drawn back to the front with the arrival of another group.

It was a close knit group of four, all casually chatting with one another as they walked in and immediately turned left towards the bedazzled pink women’s clothing section.

Each of them looked like they were right at home there with the vibe they gave off; it was like they all stepped right out of a pastel rewrite of a 2000s chick flick. Pink tones and neutral patterns were mixed with denim and layered accessories that to some would be considered gaudy, but they made it look effortless. 

Their combined laughter bounced off the racks and filled Chan’s ears, causing him to smile. He liked seeing people happy; it was probably the best look anyone could wear, he thought.

One of the figures that had been standing in the back, clad head to toe in varying shades of pink and yellow, turned their head to look around the shop more, landing on Chan.

He met their gaze and his smile dropped.

You.

 “I never understood what you saw in him anyways.”

“Oh please, like your taste is any better.”

“Hey–”

“Can y’all shut up for a sec and answer my question. Which belt?”

You grinned at your friend's antics, stepping in between the bickering to aid in Holly’s dilemma, “Go with the bullet belt, it matches your fishnet top.”

Holly’s eyes lit up and she nodded, placing the other belt–a clear plastic one with a heavy buckle–back on its hook. 

“It’s nice to know that someone around here actually cares about my date tonight,” she drawled, draping the bullet belt over her arm. “Because unlike some people,” She gestured between the two at your sides. “I can actually keep a man.”

Lang’s shoulders raised to your right as he feigned a gasp. “How dare you- I’ll have you know each of my partners has found me wonderful. A true delight!”

Seojun reached around you to flick him in the forehead. “Uh-huh. Sure, buddy. And that’s why you’ve got a body count long enough to rival Santa’s list. Did you make sure to check it twice?” 

“EIGHT IS NOT A LONG LIST–”

Seojun burst out laughing, “Eight-! In two years bro! You can’t look me in the eye and tell me that’s normal.” He trailed off into a fit of giggles, wiping his hand on your shirt like he could rid himself of the potential contamination that was Lang’s terrible boyfriend capabilities. You smacked his arm in return.

Placing both your hands on their backs, you shoved them forwards to follow Holly. “Just be quiet and help her already. That’s the whole reason we even brought you guys in the first place.” 

The two of them grumbled but begrudgingly walked after her, leaving you to close the gap and leisurely hang back behind the group. 

You snickered, shoving your hands in your pockets and letting your eyes wander around the store.

Zumiez was cool; you liked shopping here–albeit not very often. The floor-to-ceiling stacks of clothes and cramped racks of hoodies and jackets was the exact mix of organized chaos that you thrived in. And while you wouldn’t quite consider yourself drawn to the more loose and dark skater clothes that they did supply, there was a smaller section that had items more your speed. There were plenty of cropped hoodies that layered perfectly over variously colored graphic baby tees, which matched the plethora of bottoms and shoes you already had at home.

But today you’re not here for yourself, so you take it slow.

Your eyes trail over the stickers plastered on the fake graffiti walls. Most of them are ones that they sell, go figure. Once your gaze lands on one too many “i love boobies” stickers (why is there a whole column of them lined up one right after the other-), you switch your sights to the register; where, to your surprise, another pair of eyes was waiting for you.

Oh-

He realizes he’s been caught and quickly ducks his head. Your eyes remain glued to him, and as if he can feel your stare drilling into the back of his head, you watch as his ears start turning pink. 

Oh. 

Oh, he really is adorable.

Tii Cup was not your first choice when looking at job options; especially when it was located in a mall, of all places. 

However, you’re a college student; you need the money—and more options, of which there are none. Alas, beggars can’t be choosers.

And thus is the story of how you got stuck at Tii Cup. 

It’s not all bad, though; you’ve actually come to enjoy it the longer you’re here. Your coworkers are incredibly friendly and accommodating to your inexperience, and making drinks is more relaxing than you’d think. Plus, you’re rarely bored with the steady stream of mall goers constantly coming and going, so there’s always a new face to talk to. 

But there was one face that caught your eye, cementing itself in your brain even though he never set foot in your place of work.

He was gorgeous; fluffy brown hair falling into his eyes that he would frequently try to blow out of the way, and an adorable toothy smile accompanied by a distinctive laugh that rang all the way across the mall into your ears.

When you heard his laugh, faint as it may have been, for the first time while working, your head whipped in the direction it was coming from. You wanted–no, needed–to know where that sound came from. 

And you found it across the mall, in the store facing you: Zumiez.

It seemed he mostly worked the register, not unlike yourself, but you’d sometimes see him restocking products along the walls (and staring at the higher shelves like he was wrestling with his pride on whether or not to grab a ladder).

How you could discern all of that by the tiny pinprick of his figure you could see from behind the drink counter was an unsolved mystery. Not that you were keen on looking away anyways.

Bright. That’s how you’d describe him.

And that description rang true the more you observed him as you followed your friends through the shop.

After he’d broken the little staring contest you had going, he seemed determined to avoid looking at you again–or be caught looking, that is. He thought he was slick, but you could still sense his gaze on you when your attention was elsewhere. It was amusing really. 

You weren’t planning on getting anything for yourself today, you were mostly here for support and regulating Lang and Seojun’s antics, but that was before a denim skirt caught your eye. It was sturdy, with deep pockets (or as deep as you can get with a shorter skirt), and perfect for bedazzling.

And if it gave you an excuse to talk directly to the cute boy behind the counter, well, you grinned.

Say no more.

Chan wasn’t panicking. 

Certainly not. 

He just thought you were cute, that’s all. And he didn’t dare entertain any thoughts about interacting past that.

So, no, he wasn’t actively fighting internal combustion at the sight of your group approaching the register. 

Although, to be fair, he should have expected this. It was a fifty-fifty draw as soon as your group stepped in the store on whether you’d walk out with a purchase or not; thus, meaning he’d have to interact with one or all of you. Good thing he’s not a gambling man because he’s currently losing that bet.

He plastered on his best “customer service” smile to hide the torment.

“Hey there! Did we find everything okay today?”

“Absolutely,” Holly responded, placing the belt and a newly acquired pair of jeans on the counter. She snickered. “I hope we weren’t too much of a ruckus on your slow day.”

Chan shook his head, hair flopping in front of his eyes once more, “Not at all. Consider it a welcome distraction.” He flicked the stubborn hairs away, shooting her a boyish grin.

Holly exhaled in mock relief, “Thank goodness, I don’t know what I would’ve done if these jeans were kept from me for even a minute longer. Thanks to some people—“ She shot a glare over her shoulder.

Lang stuck his tongue out, the metal barbell pierced through it reflecting the fluorescent overheads, while Seojun didn’t even look up from the game on his phone.

Holly clicked her own tongue. “And just between you and me,” She leaned over the counter conspiratorally. “Those two numbskulls need to quit it with the romantic tension or I’m gonna smash their heads together myself.”

Chan snorted, his smile turning genuine as his shoulders eased a bit. His peripheral glazed over the rest of the group, before catching your eyes again and immediately shooting back to what he was doing.

Right. A customer is making a purchase.

Work the register, Chan.

His body slipped into autopilot; folding the jeans with enough skill–or required training–to make his mother proud. Placing the items in a tote bag and tearing a receipt from the printer, he handed Holly her items, bid her good day, and resigned himself to watching you all leave and go back to his normal routine of only seeing you from a distance.

At least, that’s how it should go, right?

The drawer to the register clicked shut with finality, which couldn’t be said for Chan’s heart when he looked up and found you standing directly in front of him (on the other side of the counter, obviously). 

You grinned, sliding forward the skirt you’d grabbed, and Chan took a deep breath to recenter himself—and remember how to form sentences. “Hello, find everything alright?”

Your eyes crinkled as you nodded, “Yep! Wasn’t really looking for myself, but this caught my eye so I had to indulge.” A shrug. “And I got paid yesterday so it’s fineee.”

“Eugh, don’t I know it,” he groaned. “Any ideas for this item in particular? It’s great on its own, but I can’t imagine someone with such a distinct style like yourself–” he gestured vaguely over your outfit, various charms dangling and sparkling in the dingy shop lighting, “–would just wear it plain.” 

Your cheeks ached as your smile widened, a laugh slipping past your teeth. “Yeah, actually. I got this huge bag of pearlescent rhinestones a while back and haven’t found a chance to use them. I’ll probably end up lining the seams with them…or something like that. A gradient up maybe? I’m not quite sure yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you really did have a giant bag of sparkles sitting in your closet. 

Has it been there for about two years? Yes. 

Were you pulling these excuses out of thin air to self-justify your need to talk to this guy? Also yes.

Details, details.

“Well, whatever you come up with I’m sure it’ll be great.” The two of you exchanged a grin, and Chan let out a breezy laugh as he completed your purchase. He pushed forward the card terminal and you absentmindedly swiped, keeping your eyes and smile on him. 

They were stunning, he thought, matched your smile. You even had little rhinestones in the inner corners and around your waterline that further accentuated their rich jewel color.

Safe to say, Chan was starstruck. 

Warmth exuded from your presence in waves; yet all you were doing was standing there, calmly watching him and looking more gorgeous than Chan could comprehend. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, because clearly he’s of sound enough mind to realize how pathetic he’s being. 

Forget your smile being as warm as the sun, should they put you in space you'd give the center of the solar system a run for its money. 

Chan dragged a hand down his face, his eyes turning into crescents as he smiled–grimaced? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, he hands you your item and you relieve him of it.

“Thanks! I guess, I’ll see you around…?” 

“For sure!” 

For sure? What is he talking about—there’s no guarantee he’ll ever see you again from only a foot distance. “You know where to find me. Or uh…I’ll just be…here. Yeah.” Good save.

“Right,” you held his stare, taking in the layered browns of his eyes. 

An air of comfort resided in them. You’d meet his eyes and warm vats of chocolate greeted you, gently swirling with a subtle amber hue when the light hit them just right. It was like you could taste the sweetness by proxy just by looking into his gaze.

Hold on, your train of thought came to a screeching halt. 

“What’s your name? I totally forgot to ask, I’m so sorry–”

His eyes widened out of their relaxed almond shape. “Oh! No, yea—don’t worry about it!” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair (probably only worsening the bird’s nest it already was). “It’s Chan.”

You mulled it over, rolling the syllable on your tongue, your voice dripping with what Chan could only hope was something akin to fondness.

“Chan…” you mused, a small grin settling on your features. “It suits you.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and rising towards his cheeks, but as soon as he opened his mouth to respond a sharp call rang out behind you.

“Yah! Flirt on your own time, I’ve got a date to get ready for!” Holly groaned.

You rolled your eyes, the rhinestones stuck to your skin shifting with the movement, and waved goodbye as you turned to make your way back to your friends. 

Chan watches you go, ruminating on the interaction, however brief.

Everything he had conjured in his mind about what you could be like couldn’t’ve prepared him for actually meeting you in person. Your confidence was exuberant, your style—no longer hampered by the heavy black uniform—was eclectic yet meticulous, and your smile made him feel like the skies had personally opened upon his person to shower him in its light on a gloomy day. 

But as he watched you walk away chattering to your friends, it was your eyes that kept coming back to him; bright and curious, sparkling like the jewels that surrounded them. Yes, the eyes of…

Chan yelped, grabbing your attention as you turned around from where you stood at the entrance to the store.

“Wait—I never got your name,” he called, nervously fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.

You met his gaze, smiling as your name fell from your lips. 

And just like that, you were gone, dragged out by your impatient posse; leaving Chan in awe of your bedazzled eyes and only one word ringing through his head:

Pretty…

The weekend passes. Chan alternates himself between schoolwork, work, and squaring up with his past self in the mental arena of regrets.

He’d spoken to you, gotten you to laugh, even managed to get your name—which was still bouncing around his head like a screensaver logo.

And he’d forgotten to ask for your number.

The wall would look great with a head-shaped dent, wouldn’t it?

Vernon was no help; as soon as Chan finished relaying the tales of his misfortune, he’d just shrugged.

“Well, you got their name; why don’t you just go up to them at work and ask? You’re already on some level of familiarity. It wouldn't be that weird.”

Chan shut him down immediately. Go up to them at their work? What is he, some desperate creep jumping at the first chance he gets now that he has your name? Nope. No, no, no.

He groans, slumping forward on the register counter and hiding his face in his arms. He hears Vernon sigh, and his receding footsteps as he leaves Chan to man the front. 

He just slumps over further, his back curling like he suddenly acquired his own turtle shell to crawl into, practically begging the floor to disappear under him.

Abandoned.

Abandoned in his time of distress by his only companion, how could he. 

Chan’s mental cursing of his coworker’s bloodline is interrupted by a soft voice.

“Uhm, Chan? Are you okay-?”

His head whips up fast enough to audibly crack. 

You wince at the sound, “Dude–that sounded like it hurt like hell. Are you okay?”

Chan doesn’t even notice the throbbing in his temple (he will later, though; Vernon will reprimand him too), taking in your worried expression and new, equally elaborate outfit for today. Blue seems to be the theme this time around. Nice. Blue is nice. It looks good on you.

Pick up your jaw, Chan, the floor is disgusting.

He clears his throat, straightening up and shifting his weight to shake out the pins and needles from leaning over too long. “Yeah, uh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. What’re you doing here? Wait, no–that came out wrong. Uhm.” Oh, someone end him. “How can I be of service to you on this fine afternoon?” Sure, that works.

You smile and brandish a bag that he only just now noticed you were carrying. “Turns out, I can’t read,” you sigh dramatically, “ I got the wrong size and need a bigger one. This one couldn’t even make it past my thighs.”

Chan decides to slam shut the door to whatever thoughts that comment entails, and instead responds, like a normal person. 

“Hm…well we just changed our floor layout yesterday, and I don’t think I remember seeing that skirt for sale anymore.” He frowns, mouth forming into an adorable pout that makes you want to poke his cheeks.

“But then again,” he notes, “Vernon was the one who did the women’s side this time around, so I could ask him if you’d like? Or even check the back; since it’s so recent we might have a few left over.”

“That’d be great! I don’t mean to make you do more work than this is worth though–sorry about that.” 

He waves away the comment, “Nonsense. This is literally my job.” He steps out from the register and scans the store for that familiar face. No luck, must be in the back. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he winks. 

Jiffy? He can’t walk away fast enough. 

Fortunately for Chan, they did have some extras left.

Unfortunately, he forgot to see what size you were returning.

So when he returned with four skirts in tow, he had to ignore the small red tint to his cheeks as he took in your confusion. “I forgot to ask what size you needed…so hopefully, one of these works..?” C’mon ground, open up already.

Thank goodness you laughed. 

“Of course, no worries!” You scanned over the skirt’s tags, settling on one that was about two sizes up. 

“I think this should do it,” you mused, “it was really only the waist that was a problem, seeing as I couldn't try anything past that. So if I just…” Grabbing the two ends of the skirt along the waistline, you raised it and wrapped it around your neck to measure. The edges met, with a little extra overlap to boot. Perfect. 

“Yep! Look, if I have a bib, then it’s perfect.” You did a little twirl to emphasize your point, the denim being held around your neck lifting slightly along with the other loose layers in your outfit. “I think this makes a nice addition, don’tcha think?”

Your combined laughter filled the shop as Chan tucked away the skirts you didn’t need.

The two of you chatted about anything and everything while he processed the exchange. He found out you went to a college not far from his, amidst a story about how inept one of your professors was at navigating basic technology; and in turn, he told you about how two of his upperclassman friends almost got suspended for a prank they pulled during orientation week (how Mingyu could stand to show his face around the art department was still a mystery to him).

Chan finished printing your new receipt just in time for the ending of his harrowing tale about an altercation with another friend of his.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Minghao that speechless, save for when Vernon started shooting him with a water gun while he was meditating on the green.” He chuckled fondly at the memory, handing you your new item with a reluctant smile. 

Why must all good things come to an end? It wasn’t everyday that he met someone like you: amicable, easy to talk to, a sense of humor he can get behind, and not to mention an immaculate style to match.

You know what? No. 

He already fumbled once, he’s not going to let the opportunity pass again. 

“Hey uh, I know we’ve only spoken twice now,” He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

“But I’d really love to talk and get to know you more—preferably not when I’m on the clock.” A nervous pause. Finish strong Chan, too late to back out now. “Could I maybe get your number so I can take you on a date? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course–” he sputters. 

A beat passes.

And another as you shift around the bag on your arm. 

Chan opens his mouth to take it all back when you slide your phone to him on the counter; a new contact open on the screen, presumably for him to fill. 

He met your gaze—incredulous—as you smiled, all bright and beautiful, “I’ve really enjoyed chatting with you, too. To be honest, I probably would’ve come running back to get your number the first time if Holly hadn’t practically been dragging me by the collar out of here.

“Plus,” You propped your arms on the counter, various charm bracelets clacking on the laminated wood. “I’ve seen you around from before then; and I have to say after meeting you, I’m glad to see that you’re even cuter than I thought.”

Chan’s face should be considered a fire hazard.

“Well,” he gulped, “I’m glad I’ve exceeded expectations…?” His brain is too fried from firing on all cylinders just to remain standing, so he hands you back your phone; his contact still on the screen, now reading: Lee Chan (from zumiez). 

Your eyes flick over the screen, then you start typing. Chan feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, a text from you presumably. 

“Aish, I should probably get going. I need to track down Lang for his glue gun, and this skirt ain’t gonna bedazzle itself!” Laughing, you turned and walked back out into the mall, but then stopped at the entrance and glanced back to Chan.

“Thanks for your help Chan! Hit me up for that date when you’re free.”

Chan was only able to check your text on his break twenty minutes later.

> heya! its the bedazzled skirt dude :p lemme know when youre free to chat, and for that date you promised hehe ^^

> cya around channie <3

The two of you did end up going on a date not long after. It went swimmingly (and not just because it was at the beach), and you parted ways with the promise of more meetups and dates to follow.

You’d also see each other in the wild from time to time. One such time–much to the dismay of Chan as he looks back on it–was when he was out skating with Vernon along the coast. They usually just cruised when skating here because the sand on the concrete made skating all the more difficult, much less tricks.

So that’s what they did, and what they were doing, when a voice started to call his name.

“Chan!

“Channnnn! Hey, Channie!

“YAH-! LEE JUNG CHAN I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!!”

He jolted at the full legal name, his head cautiously turning in the direction of the perpetrator. Which turned out to be you, sitting criss-crossed on a concrete wall, beads in hand like you were in the middle of crafting (who is he kidding, of course you were), with Seojun next to you eyeing him over the rim of his drink with what looked like amusement. 

Chan lit up, his whole face screaming pure, unfiltered joy as he waved back to you.

But—because fate likes to mess with him—while he was preoccupied taking in this chance encounter with you, he failed to notice how much his skateboard had slowed underneath him. 

Then came the break in the sidewalk, a caught wheel, and his entire body seizing in surprise as he crashed into the grass. 

Has the Earth finally decided it’s his time? Just crack open underneath him and swallow him whole so he doesn’t have to lament in his shame? 

He laid there sprawled out on his back for a good twenty seconds, trying to retrieve the air knocked out of him as he stared dazed at the sky, contemplating his position in the universe.

Red coated his ears and neck like the dirt now on his jeans, and he had quickly gotten back up and cast you one last wave before skating away to avoid further ramifications to his ego.

Vernon cast you a sideways glance, shrugging, before waving goodbye himself and taking a running start to catch up to Chan.

You still giggle about it to this day–Chan hides his face in his hands each time you remind him.

Casual encounters increased after the second and third dates. Some more intentional than others, but the one neither of you will ever forget is when Chan visited you at work a few months after the two of you started talking.

It wasn’t the first time he’s come here during your shift; he’d made it a habit after you’d made it past the talking stage to come over every few days on his break. Sometimes he’d get a drink, always asking you to surprise him with whatever your current favorite was, and other times he’d just stand around to chat (your coworkers liked him though, so he never got too much flack for distracting you).

Regardless, you were more than happy to see his fluffy brown head and giddy smile pop into the shop.

And this time was no different, you spotted him approaching and quickly finished up the drink you were working on so you could greet him freely with a smile. He returned it instantly, sliding up to the counter with his usual grace and you set off to prepare a drink for him. You’d decided to keep it simple and give him your favorite: peach milk tea with flavored popping boba to match.

Or at least, you would’ve if you hadn’t turned around only to see your coworker using the last of the peach popping boba. Huffing, you swapped plans and started making a brown sugar milk tea instead. Respect for the classics.

What you’d failed to notice, though, as you focussed on perfecting the drink, was how quiet Chan had gotten.

Usually he’d be filling the space with endless chatter—for your entertainment or just because he liked to yap, either way you loved it. It didn’t matter if he was rambling about how obtuse his professor was, or going into way too much detail about another creepy antique shop Vernon had dragged him to in order to find a present for his partner. You never had to question what was on his mind because he’d come running to you with the latest news.

But now there was none of that. And it was only when you turned around to give him the drink that you saw his apprehensive stance. He was wringing his hands, twisting the two rings on them absentmindedly, and his eyes would flick to yours before looking away just as fast. 

You frowned, setting aside the drink. Refreshments could wait.

“You alright there Channie…?”

A visible flinch, like he’d forgotten where he was and had gotten lost in the recesses of his mind. Your frown deepens.

“Chan-”

“I need to tell you something,” he blurts.”Or, rather, ask you something.”

You blinked. “Okay..?” Nodding, you gestured for him to continue.

“Right. Okay. Uh,” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“Uhm…well, first of all, I just wanted to tell you how much I love spending time with you. I know it’s hectic to plan around work and school and whatnot, but you’re easily one of my favorite people to just be around. I don’t think I ever thought that when you first came into Zumiez that day that we’d end up as close as we are. And I wouldn’t change a thing, don’t get me wrong,” A chuckle. 

You could see his usual confidence returning as he went on, and it made you smile. He reached for the drink and took a sip, humming when the sweetness hit his tongue.

“Well, that’s a lie. Kind of,” He raised his eyes to meet yours as he chewed, a sheepish smile coating his features. “I suppose there’s one thing I would change.”

He stepped up to the counter, setting aside the drink, and held out his hands. Like he was asking for yours in turn. And maybe he was, you weren’t quite sure; but you slipped your hands in his anyway. He squeezed them once. It was a grounding action, for the both of you. 

You cocked your head, amusement tainting your face. “And what would that be, hm?”

He grinned, shooting you that toothy smile that you’ve come to adore (with a bit of tapioca stuck in the corner that made you stifle a laugh). 

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

What. 

Your face fell in an instant, brows furrowing in confusion. 

He doesn’t…what? 

After all this time? How long has he thought this, were you that bad a friend? How did you not notice sooner? No, he literally just said he liked your company. “What are you-“

He continued in the midst of your spiral, “I don’t want to be your friend; but,” he sucked in a breath as you held yours, “if you’ll let me, would you allow me to be your boyfriend?” 

Oh. 

Then he’d looked at you with eyes that emulated the pearls in the drink you made him, and all you could do was lean over the counter and pull him down to meet you as you breathed out a single: 

“Yes.”

Chan was going to commit a felony. 

Either that, or eat these damn screws.

Whichever comes first.

Everything had started out fine; he’d bought his new set of wheels—complete with longer screws and spacers, then picked you up outside your campus for a little casual hangout time before your shifts started. You’d heard him rave about these wheels for over two weeks, so it was only fitting that you be there when he finally put them on his board.

But now, he’d rather have you be anywhere else than right here watching him try not to blow a gasket over some dumb bolts.

A fight he’s actively losing at this rate.

You’d offered to help, multiple times actually. As much as you loved his little pout and furrow in his brow when he gets frustrated, now you just felt a little bad for trying not to laugh. But Chan refused your assistance each time. 

It wasn’t that he was stubborn—okay, he was, but the gentleman in him couldn’t let you ruin the fresh set of nails that your roommate had done for you.

He liked this set, it was a little longer than what you usually had, resulting in sharp clacks as you tapped your fingers on the back of your phone. You’d even sprung for decorative charms and mini pearls to litter the glittery pink surface.

And then there was the smile you’d worn when you opened the door for him (a bit too forcefully maybe, much to the chagrin of your roommate, who yelled at you to be careful), brandishing your bedazzled fingers with barely contained excitement. 

Yeah, Chan would rather jump off Santa Monica Pier than have his stupid board ruin such artistry. (Did his refusal also have to do with the fact that he wasn’t sure you even knew the first thing about navigating a skateboard, much less constructing one? …Maybe.. But he’s not going to tell you that-! What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said that to your face?!)

Besides, he’s not going to let himself be bested by bolts of all things. They’re just tiny chunks of metal, and he’s a grown man! 

The bolt slips out of his fingers off the screw.

It clatters to the pavement, mockingly bouncing a few times before settling just out of reach.

Chan considers throwing the skate key into the ocean.

“Babe.” You wave a manicured hand in front of his face. He doesn’t register it, just continues to ruminate on how best to reduce this skate key into scrap metal.

A small chuckle escapes your lips as you softly turn his face to look at you. His cheeks flush with a rosy tint, his eyes widening in surprise before softening and melting slightly at the contact. Ah, there we go.

“I admire your effort.” You begin, raising your other hand to brush a lock of hair out of his face. “But I can’t watch you dig yourself deeper into this pit of despair, okay? Can you hand me the skate key, so I can help you?”

Chan sighs, his breath hitting your palm in a short burst. Reluctantly, he hands over the tool; his shoulders sagging in defeat. Bested by nuts and bolts. Right in front of you, who is now taking his board and bracing it between your legs, probably on your way to breaking a nail as you lodge the truck in place and screw on the bolt with ease…

Wait, what.

His eyes locked in on your fingers, watching them nimbly flick the bolt onto the screw. You flipped the skate key to carefully pop the tiny allen wrench out from the top. Maneuvering around your nails, you positioned both the skate key and the small phillips head screwdriver at the other end of the allen wrench on either side of the screw and bolt holding the truck in place. Then you start twisting. 

It’s not supposed to look that good is it?

You’re just screwing on a bolt, bracing the screw head at the other side of the board so the bolt actually attaches. One screw finishes with ease, and you pick up another bolt and position it at the next point; diagonal to the first, like you’ve done this a million times.

Chan just stares, watching you attach the other three screws without missing a beat. 

Oil and grease smears on your hands as you handle the parts, but stars still glitter both on your nails and in his eyes.

The last bolt is secured with one final tug of the skate key, and you lay the board deck-down across your legs. You wipe your hands on the grass to rid them of the worst grease stains; you’ll clean them later with wet wipes in your bag, but right now you want to check your handiwork. 

“I think that should do it!” You flick one of the wheels and watch it spin with ease on the new bearing Chan had installed. The colors of the marbled rubber blend into one blurry circle before slowing down and differentiating themselves again. “Can I try them out?”

Chan blinks, snapping out of his daze as he processes your request.

“I mean, yea? Of course you can.” Like he’d ever refuse you anything.

He stands and dusts his hands off on his jeans. He raises them awkwardly towards you, not unlike how middle schoolers would when dancing with a partner for the first time and don’t know where to put their hands. “Do you want to hold onto me? I can like, walk alongside you as you hold onto my shoulders, or something-”

Please, he doesn’t think he can take you falling off the board. Or getting injured in general.

If you so much as crack one nail, he’ll drop to his knees in remorse, and he was already holding his breath watching you assemble his board like the angel you are (you were even in white with pastel accents today, gorgeous as ever). 

He’s mid-shift from one leg to the other when you playfully scoff and place the board on the asphalt, before getting to your feet yourself.

You flash him a grin, your eyes sparkling in addition to the rhinestones once again surrounding them. “Oh, ye of little faith.” You pecked him on the cheek and moved past him to step on the board.

“Watch and learn.”

Chan could only reminisce on the slight breeze that ruffled his hair as you took off. 

Then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks:

You could skate. 

Sure, Chan had always had an inkling in the back of his head about “What if we skated together?”, and even had offered to teach you at one point. But he’d been interrupted by Mingyu asking who he was on call with–yes, his partner does go to another school, thank you very much–and the conversation never circled back. 

Now his eyes just trailed your figure gliding along the concrete and he couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t know how to skate.

And you could skate well.

Your kickoff was clean, and each additional push off to maintain speed was followed by a smooth re-footing on the board. Weaving through the beach goers was no challenge either. Bending your knees and guiding the board with subtle shifts of your weight, you eased through and around the crowd until you turned around back towards Chan.

Your hair was windswept, various strands falling across your face, and you wobbled a little–your arms shooting out to the sides to maintain balance–as you slowed down before recentering yourself with one last push. Then you raised your head to look at Chan, a bright smile coating your features.

And oh…you were breathtaking. 

You rolled to a stop in front of Chan, stepping off the board and propping it on the curb with a breathless laugh as you swiped your hair back into place. “Well, I’d say they’re a solid pair of wheels. They feel great, babe. I can see why you chose them!”

Chan didn’t move. 

He was stunlocked; your cheeks were flushed with exertion, your smile radiated happiness, and your eyes were sparkling like the sun on the waves in the ocean behind you. 

And then you were cupping his face; looking at him all soft and pleased, your nails resting lightly on his cheeks, and it took everything he had not to melt to the floor in your hands.

“Channie…you alright there, bud? You’ve been kinda spacey today…” Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, causing Chan’s eyes to dart to your mouth before returning to your eyes. Which were now sparkling with something else, a look he’d become very familiar with in these past weeks since dating you. 

He wasn’t going to make it to his shift alive was he?

Your lips curled in a smirk, thumbs brushing the apples of his cheeks, which were now beginning to look like said fruit.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re flustered?” you chided. “Your eyes get all round and you get this whole ‘awestruck’ look on your face. Even your jaw drops slightly, juuuuust like this.” 

You punctuated your point by sliding your thumb down to use your nail to tug his bottom lip slightly. Chan had never been more thankful for the longer shape.

He let out a ragged sigh, fogging up some of the jewels glued to the acrylic. “You may have mentioned it in passing, yes…” Hell, you never let him forget it. 

His hands moved to rest on your hips, softly fiddling with the fabric of your hoodie that was tied around your waist. He matched your grin with one of his own, turning his head to place a lingering kiss on the palm still cupping his face. “You’ll be happy to hear that you’re the only one who’s actually had the pleasure of saying it to my face.”

You scoffed, “And why would I be happy about that? More people should acknowledge how adorable my boyfriend is.” You squished his cheeks, causing his lips to purse in sync with your own as you scowled at him. He’s just so malleable; makes you want to poke and prod him all the time.

“Is this just your ploy to get people to say you have good taste,” he mumbled, amused. It wasn’t really a question. You both knew it.

Immediately your grumpy demeanor was replaced with an exaggerated smile as you leaned forward into his face. 

“Yes.” A kiss to the temple. 

“It.” Another on the other side. 

“Is.” Tip of his nose.

As much as he tried to stand on his own–and keep his pride intact–Chan loved when you just treated him like a marshmallow. He’d gladly let you tickle and tease him if it meant he got to hold you close and brighten up your day, even just a little bit.

Admittedly, it was a little embarrassing in public; but when you looked at him like he was all that mattered, and you started grumbling about how unfair the world was while littering his face with the sticky residue of your lipgloss, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Deal with it.”

And he would, in a heartbeat. Because now your lips are on his and everything else in the world might as well dissolve in your sweetness.

[𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:]

Entering Zumiez to drop off your boyfriend wasn’t the big heartbreak you think it’d be.

Hard to miss someone when you can still have mimed conversations from across the mall, much to the dismay of your coworkers (poor Vernon has been smacked in the face one too many times, and has since learned to avoid Chan when his attention is directed outside the store). Plus, the two of you had a date planned for later tonight–the whole reason you’d gotten your nails done in the first place. 

That didn’t stop you from keeping your hands together for as long as you could, of course.

You chatted with Vernon behind the register as Chan clocked in. He returned right as a customer walked up to pay, and the two of you stepped aside so Vernon could do his job. Something the customer was purchasing caught your eye, making you snicker and subtly point it out to Chan. 

He groaned. “Why do we even have those stickers.”

You laughed, hooking your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re just funny at this point, to be honest.”

 “Ehhh… debateable. But sure, dear, whatever you say.” He hummed, looping his arms around your waist to give you one last hug before you had to leave.

You’d since put on your hoodie since entering the mall, stating the air conditioning made it too cold. He didn’t mind. Now it just felt like he was hugging a big cozy plushy–that would randomly kiss his cheek with an exaggerated “mmmwah!” 

Curse having a job, he’d rather stay here in your embrace.

Your breath hit his ear as you giggled.

“Don’t worry. I love you for more than your boobs, pretty boy.”

He yanked your hoodie strings closed.

He could have. He’s certainly had his fair share of instances where a cuss or two would have been acceptable. The time he crashed into Williams’ Vernon on the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix, for example. Or the Singapore race where he ended up in the barriers after battling his teammate, Wonwoo, for podium position. 

Minghao hadn’t cussed then. Everybody liked to joke that his face often did the talking for him— his expressions post-race landing him on the front page of every sports media outlet. 

The Chinese racer was calm, cool, and collected under pressure. Critical without being cruel. Demanding without being demeaning. 

And yet, today, in Monaco— 

“Why do I have the penalty?” Minghao screeches, his voice crackling over the radio. “Hello?”

“Track limits, turn nine,” his race engineer says, voice carefully measured.

“You’re kidding!” Minghao downshifts aggressively as he rounds the next corner. The tires wail, the car jolts, and the telemetry lights up with data that makes the pit wall wince. “I stayed within the white line! You saw it, everyone saw it!” 

The pit wall scrambles. Engineers replay the footage frame by frame, dissecting every pixel of the contentious corner. The commentators speculate wildly, cameras cutting to Minghao’s onboard view. Sky Sports plays the radio message on repeat, the words for fuck’s sake! echoing through living rooms worldwide.

But Minghao doesn't care about the broadcast. Doesn't care about the headlines already being written. His pulse hammers, hands locked around the steering wheel like a vice.

“Box this lap, Hao. Serve the penalty,” the team calls. “Then push. We can still fight for points.”

Minghao murmurs something incoherent, though it doesn’t take a genius to guess that it’s probably another curse. He lifts off the throttle, coasts through the last sector, and dives into the pit lane. The Mercedes crew swarms the car, stoic and efficient, every second ticking down with excruciating slowness. 

The lollipop stays down.

Ten seconds feel like an eternity.

Minghao slams the throttle as soon as he’s released, launching back onto the track with a cloud of tire smoke.

“Gap to P10?” he demands, his tone unusually biting. 

“7.3 seconds to Boo. But DRS is enabled—” 

“I can catch him,” Minghao decides on his engineer’s behalf. 

Nobody doubts it, really. 

Minghao takes the next lap like a man possessed. Nailing apexes, brushing curbs, deploying battery in the perfect spots. Purple sector times flash on the screen; the crowd roars as he slices through the field like a scalpel.

Clean. Precise. Ruthless. 

Minghao pushes right past Alpine’s Seungkwan, who screeches into his own radio about this reckless man, trying to kill him with the way he faked to the outside. It doesn’t matter to Minghao. Not when he’s through. 

“P10, Hao,” his engineer says, relief bleeding into his voice. “Keep it up.” 

“Don’t—” Minghao cuts himself off. Everybody can more or less guess what he was about to say. Don’t tell me what to do, he had planned to snap, and it only drives the team into a deeper state of confusion. 

It’s even worse in the press room. 

Minghao sits in the middle, flanked by Aston Martin’s Seokmin and Red Bull’s Jihoon. Minghao’s Mercedes suit is still speckled with sweat, and his jaw is tight, hands clasped in front of him on the table.

The moderator introduces them. “We’ll start with questions for the drivers. First, to Mercedes’ Xu Minghao. P9 after serving a 10-second penalty. Can you walk us through your race?” 

A muscle in Minghao’s jaw ticks. Not a good sign.

Minghao leans into the microphone and very simply states, “It was bullshit.” 

Again, that stunned silence. Seokmin balks like he had been physically struck. Jihoon fights back a grin. 

The moderator blinks. “Uh,” she stammers. “Could you elaborate on that?” 

“The penalty,” Minghao says plainly. “It was bullshit. I’ve seen the footage. I stayed within track limits. And even if I hadn’t, we both know there were other drivers exceeding limits all race who didn’t get penalized.” 

A reporter from BBC Radio pipes up. “You’ve been known for keeping a cool head in difficult situations, but we heard your radio messages. Do you regret your reaction?” 

The question draws a humorless laugh from Minghao. Today, his wit is razor-like in its sharpness. The claws are out, so to speak, as Minghao answers the query. 

“Regret? No. I regret not pushing harder after the penalty. I lost ten seconds and still clawed my way back to points.” He pauses, letting the fact sink in. “What does that tell you?”

Somebody from Fox Sports pushes the envelope. “Are you implying bias in the stewarding?” the journalist calls out. 

Minghao’s eyes flash, making even the most fearless of the media personnel shrink back a bit. 

“I’m saying there needs to be consistency,” he hisses. “That’s all.” 

Mercedes’ PR manager shifts uncomfortably in the background; one can assume they’re already drafting damage control statements in their head. The list of people to apologize to only grows when a ballsy ESPN journo dares to ask, “Do you think this will affect your relationship with the FIA?” 

There’s no reason for the FIA— the Formula One’s governing body— to be dragged into this. Or maybe there is, with the way Minghao is crashing out in public. 

The racer smiles coldly. “Maybe,” he answers, “but I’m not here to make friends.” 

“Okay,” the moderator interjects. “I think it’s time for us to move on—” 

Minghao concedes, leaning back into his chair and pushing the microphone over to Jihoon. There’s the slightest of miscalculations, though, when Minghao grumbles something to the Red Bull driver.

The microphone catches Minghao’s snide side comment, supposedly meant solely for Jihoon’s ears. “You should ask the FIA why they’re so scared of drivers who fight back,” the Chinese driver huffs. 

The room explodes. Minghao doesn’t flinch. 

Mercedes’ PR manager accepts that it’s going to be a long, long night. 

Even Wonwoo doesn’t have an answer for his co-driver’s uncharacteristic behavior. The driver frowns when the team principal brings it up. 

Wonwoo runs a hand through his dark, sweat-slicked hair, as if reviewing what he witnessed pre- and post-race. “Hao was already a bit… off when he came in this morning,” Wonwoo admits. “Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something.” 

“Drivers like Minghao don’t just wake up one morning and decide they’re going to be the devil reincarnated,” the team principal says tentatively. 

Wonwoo takes a moment to contemplate. “Trouble in paradise, maybe?” 

“Drivers like Minghao—” 

“Don’t let their personal lives affect their racing,” Wonwoo finishes before waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I don’t know, then.” 

Except— for once— Wonwoo is right. 

The team doesn't press Minghao to celebrate, not when he’s a walking PR disaster in a foul mood. He heads straight back to his apartment, shedding all his rage on the way home. 

It’s the only reason he manages to gently open the front door. He toes off his shoes at the doorway and shrugs off his hoodie, each action deliberate in its intent and slowness.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re seated at one of the bar stools, forearms leaning against the island. Minghao doesn’t come close. Not at first. He lingers a couple of steps away, stock still as the two of you lock gazes. 

You open your mouth. Minghao beats you to the punch line. 

“I know,” he says, his voice the most gentle it’s been the entire day. “Trust me, I know.” 

“I wasn’t going to tell you off.” 

Minghao lets out a derisive snort of laughter, though he’s quick to look chastised when he catches the shift in your expression. “Alright,” he says tiredly. “What were you going to say, then?” 

You hop off the stool. Minghao holds his breath. 

He still feels like he isn’t breathing by the time you’re standing right in front of him. Where others might hesitate, you don’t. 

Your hand reaches up to cup Minghao’s face. Your palm is warm against his cheek, but your words are much warmer. 

“I was going to apologize,” you say slowly, enunciating each word, “for breaking rule number three.” 

Rule number three. To have it brought up now is comedic. Minghao thinks of the restaurant tissue framed in the living room, the one bearing the silly list the two of you had jotted down when you first started dating. 

The very rule you’re referring to right now had been in Minghao’s loopy handwriting, underlined twice to emphasize its importance. 

#3: No fights on race weekends. 

It had come with an asterisk, a couple of caveats. Still, it was one of those ‘rules’ the two of you tried to see through the most. For not only Minghao’s sanity, but Mercedes’ as well. 

Minghao sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing with the heavy exhale. He can’t help it; his cheek nuzzles into your palm, seeking the familiarity of your touch after being without it last night. 

(That was his choice, admittedly, after he opted to sleep in the guest room instead of your shared bedroom. He left in the morning without all of his usual routines— his 30-minute guided meditation, his good luck kiss from you.) 

The fight— God, what was the fight even about? Minghao is embarrassed to admit he can barely remember. 

By the way you’re looking at him, though, it looks like you’re also ready to put it past the two of you. 

“Did you watch?” he asks. 

The corners of your lips twitch upward. “What’s the right answer?” you shoot back, half-teasing as Minghao’s arms gingerly wrap around your waist. 

“I think I’d prefer that you say ‘no’,” he says wryly. “I was a monster out there. I’ve got so many people to apologize to.” 

You give a low hum of approval. Minghao tugs you into his space until he can bury his face in the top of your head.

For a moment, the two of you bask in the aftermath. The bittersweet race, the shaky reconciliation. Minghao breaks the silence. 

“I said fuck,” he mumbles, horrified, “on the radio.” 

“You did,” you confirm. “Twice, actually.” 

Minghao groans. “And at the press conference—” 

“You told the FIA they could take it up their a—” 

“I did not,” your boyfriend says shrilly, “say that!” 

You break out into giggles. Minghao can’t help it; his arms tighten around you, and he holds you like he’s trying to erase the past 24 hours through touch alone. 

Tomorrow, Minghao will be back to his usual self. He’ll play the PR game— waxing poetics about mental pressure, apologizing to the FIA for his conduct. He’ll pay the fines and promise to do better, be better. 

INSTAGRAM

tokyoeats ✓

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tokyoeats, Stopped by Tsukimi Table again this week! Cozy little spot tucked in Minato, co-owner Y.T. was helping in the kitchen tonight! Insanely good food as always!!

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yukilover22, CO-OWNER???

user5, love their food! always the best service as well! ❤️❤️

thatf1girl: wait a damn minute. i recognize that face.

user1, god i love their shit man, just looking at their menu makes my mouth water — user9, fuckkkk ikr?? and the owner is hot asf — user1, ok buddy... she's married — user9, WHAT??? SINCE UH WHEN???

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yukitsunodalover

liked by f1wags, pierregasly, f1gossippage and 1,625 others

yukitsunodalover, hello... YUKI IS MARRIED????? WHAT THE FUCK???

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f1fandom, NO WAY HE’S BEEN MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME????

landonutz, he really said eat, race, love, MARRY.

pierregaslyslefttoenail, we have lost another one girls.

yukisramenwife, do you think she calls him chef 😭😭😭😭😭

f1wags, 👀

ilovecharles, WHY IS PIERRE LIKING??? — verstappenlover, OMG DO U THINK HE WAS AT THE WEDDING???

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yukitsunoda0511

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, oscarpiastri and 293,761 others

yukitsunoda0511, from kids, to teens, to adults, together forever 🤍

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f1, THE INTERNET IS ON FIRE

pierregasly, finally bro 😭😭😭

tsunodasimp, this hurts more than Monza 2020.

danielricciardo, about damn time you fed the fans something real 🍜

landonorris, i'll just let everyone know, the food at the wedding was BOMB

redbullracing, “Chef Tsunoda 👨🏻‍🍳🔥 congratulations!”

f1fan, HE’S MARRIED HE’S MARRIED HE’S MARRIED

maxverstappen1, about time.

"Yuki?" you laughed, the air whooshing out of you as his weight settled.

"Mmh," was his only response. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his arms winding tightly around your waist, locking you in place.

He felt heavy and warm, smelling of travel—airport coffee, faint cologne, and exhaustion. You shifted slightly to get comfortable, and he let out a disgruntled noise, tightening his grip.

"Don't move," he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with sleep. "Recharging."

You softened, realizing just how drained he was. "Okay. I'm not moving."

You dropped your book onto the coffee table and wrapped your arms around him in return. One of your hands found its way to the back of his head, fingers carding gently through his hair. He melted at the touch, letting out a long, shaky breath that tickled your collarbone.

For a long time, the only sound in the apartment was the hum of the refrigerator and Yuki’s breathing evening out. He was practically a furnace, radiating heat, but you didn't mind. In these moments, the fiery, loud F1 driver disappeared, replaced by this soft, tactile version of Yuki who just needed to be held.

"Did you eat?" you whispered after ten minutes.

He shook his head against your shoulder. "Not hungry. Just want this."

He shifted his legs, tangling them with yours, making sure there was maximum surface area contact between the two of you. He was like a koala, clinging on for dear life.

"You're heavy, you know," you teased gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Yuki finally lifted his head, just an inch, his eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy. He looked at you with a soft, lopsided grin. "Comfortable pillow. Y/N is the best pillow."

"I'm glad I serve a purpose."

"Essential purpose," he corrected, before dropping his head back down onto your chest, listening to your heartbeat. "Five more minutes. Then I'll shower."

You knew it would be more like an hour, but as his breathing slowed into a steady rhythm of sleep, you just pulled the throw blanket over both of you and closed your eyes, too.

extra:

His love language is 100% physical touch. When his social battery is drained, he doesn't want to talk; he just wants to be wrapped around you.

It is his weakness. If you scratch the back of his head or play with his hair while cuddling, he will fall asleep instantly. It’s like an "off" button.

He always has to have his legs tangled with yours. Even if it’s hot, his ankle needs to be hooked over yours just to know you’re there.

He is notoriously not a morning person. If you try to get up before him, he will groan and pull you back down by the waist, refusing to let the day start.

© 2025 lap90. All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication, distribution, or modification of this content is strictly prohibited.

before falling together

Life hadn’t been easy for a while. Recently laid off, you were attempting to get back on your feet. Moving out of your apartment located in the middle of the city which you can no longer afford. You packed up your life and moved to a part of the city that was filled with neon light and felt gloomier.

Things just felt like they kept going wrong. You lucked out that your friends wanted to be roommates. Soonyoung decided this was the perfect time to move in together. He managed to convince his college friend, turned coworker Chan, to move into a three bedroom home on the edge of the city.

This old house was taking some time to get used to. This place felt homey and warm and cozy amongst the gloomy city.

Soonyoung and Chan loved that this place had a basement. The second you moved in, the boys already bought a couch and a television to put down there. You were more preoccupied enjoying the view from your backyard. The night sky seemed the clearest back there. Many nights you found yourself sitting up on the couch hoping things would turn around for you.

The air was wet with a slight breeze as you sat on the step with a blanket wrapped around you. You’ve spent the last hour focused on the meteor shower. Maybe it’s a good thing you moved out of the middle of the city, otherwise you would never be able to experience this from your apartment.

Recently, sleeping hasn’t been easy for you. Waking up you look at the clock on your desk to see that it’s four in the morning. Crawling out of bed you get up deciding maybe a hot cup of tea will help settle you down.

Looking around the kitchen you notice Soonyoung must have taken your box of tea down to the basement with all his snacks he bought. Opening the door you slowly make your way downstairs. The sound of distance rustling startles you. You aren’t sure if either of the boys are up late. Each step you take downstairs you try your hardest to stay quiet. Turning the corner you let out a scream at the sight of a beautiful man with skin that has a lavender tint to it, sitting on the floor fully naked.

Covering your eyes you screech. He immediately jumps up completely terrified.

“I’m sorry.” He yells.

“Who are you?” You peak through your fingers trying to focus on his face, and avoiding looking at the rest of his naked body. Before he can say anything you watch as antennas pop up from his dark hair. You had to be dreaming, there is no way a random man is in your basement with antennas and lavender skin.

“Wonwoo, my name is Wonwoo.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I believe your people call it Saturn.”

crash landing on you

It’s been eight months since you discovered an alien hiding in your basement. Your original idea was you were going to hide him away from both the boys. That plan went to hell when Soonyoung busted into your room the next day and found a man with antennas and skin lavender skin laying on your bed next to you. Luckily nothing inappropriate was happening. He was finally wearing clothing. You searched around the basement and stole a pair of Soonyoung’s sweatpants you found in the laundry. He was laying next to you on top of the covers telling you why he decided to run away from his home planet.

It’s safe to say Soonyoung short circuited when he realized your new roommate was an alien.

There is a sea of questions following the moment he got you alone away from Wonwoo.

“Are you going to fuck the alien?” That one made you roll your eyes. Soonyoung was pacing around the room frantically. Soonyoung is a typical horny man sometimes.

“No.” Turns out that was a lie.

“How big is his dick? Is it a tentacle?” You kind of saw his dick for a brief moment that night, but you couldn’t remember much. You were too busy trying not to see anything. “If you fuck him can you please tell me?” Soonyoung is literally insane.

“No.” You screamed walking away from him.

After that day things started to calm down. Chan finally met Wonwoo and they seemed to hit it off. Wonwoo taught himself to disguise himself as a human. He’s learned to properly hide his antennas. He keeps them tucked away, and his skin loses its lavender hue, unless he’s alone with you. He’s a quick learner, you and both the boys taught him human mannerisms. He explained, human and people on Saturn behave quite similarly.

Wonwoo grew to be comfortable around you very quickly. “Whenever we’re together I feel as if I can be myself.” He told you one night. You might be from two different worlds, but you feel a connection with him, you’ve never experienced with another man or human before.

It took four days of him living in your room before you cracked. Your first kiss with him was absolutely intoxicating. That night you learned all about his special appendage. Soonyoung might pass out if he discovered that Wonwoo didn’t have a normal dick. His dick soft looks normal but once he’s fully hard it doubles in size and becomes like a tentacle. He has the ability to move it like one as well. You quickly learned the ridges on his cock, can push you over the edge quicker than any man ever could. His dick isn’t the only thing unique about him. His cum has a blue hue to it and it’s sweet. It reminds you of sweet muscat green grapes that you’ve always loved.

Wonwoo is a quick learner when it comes to quite literally everything. This man learned your first night together how to make you come with his fingers, his mouth, and his cock. Your fourth orgasm of the night, the second one with his dick literally caused you to squirt all over him and your bed. He was in awe at the sight of you wet and absolutely spent body laying on the bed beneath him. You'll never forget the smile on his face as he stared down at you in complete awe.

Things with Wonwoo in the last eight months have grown to feel domestic and safe. He might be from a million miles away on Saturn, but you’re his home. In the beginning he told you all about his arranged marriage he’s run away from. None of that detoured you from falling hopelessly in love with an alien that has an obsession with your mango scented shampoo.

Chan is at the store with Wonwoo. It’s time for the house’s weekly grocery trip. Normally Wonwoo goes when you go to the store, but he seemed extra eager to go shopping with Chan today.

“We’re going out for Seungkwan's birthday tonight. Why don’t you bring Wonwoo?” Soonyoung wants to bring Wonwoo along. Even if Wonwoo doesn’t want to go out, Soonyoung will try his damndest to convince him. You aren’t the only one who has grown attached to Wonwoo. Both of the boys had bonded with him. Soonyoung refers to him as his best friend. The first time he called him that, Wonwoo had to ask what it meant.

“Should I really take an alien to a crowded bar?” Wonwoo is fine in public, but there is a little voice in the back of your head that is terrified that someone is going to discover what he is.

“He’s good at disguising himself. I don’t remember the last time he accidentally let his antennas out.”

“He’s your boyfriend, shouldn’t you want him to spend time with your friends?” You and Wonwoo are clearly together, but you’ve never specifically labeled what you are. Turns out Saturn isn’t a place where his kind dates. They just court right before getting married.

“He’s technically my boyfriend, but none of our friends know he’s from a different planet. Wonwoo doesn’t want anyone to know other than us.” Within the first few days of him living with you, he asked you to keep his identity a secret. When anyone asks how you meant you him, you always say he’s college friends with Soonyoung.

The front door opens and Wonwoo comes in carrying way more groceries than a normal man could. Chan follows behind him carrying a couple bags.

The moment he sets them down he rushes over and gives you a kiss. Wonwoo is a physically affectionate being. He always goes out of his way to make you feel wanted.

“Wonwoo, it’s Seungkwan’s birthday tonight.” Soonyoung doesn’t even bother letting you ask him, he’s taking the situation into his own hands. “Did you want to go to the bar with us?”

Wonwoo instantly turns to you. “Did you want me to go?”

Reaching out you rest your hand on his cheek, “only if you feel comfortable going. I’m not going to force you to go.”

“I’ll go.”

“Is anyone going to help me put away the groceries?” Chan yells from the kitchen.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The bar is definitely too busy for your liking. Wonwoo has met most of your friend group you share with the boys. Everyone instantly liked him the moment they met him. Wonwoo is extremely charming and it doesn’t help that he’s absolutely beautiful. Just like yourself, people seem to be drawn to him.

Sitting at a table in the back of the bar. Soonyoung is busy losing at pool against Jeonghan, while drinking way too much. Chan is chatting with Jihoon by the bar.

Wonwoo is right next to you as you sit across from Vernon and his girlfriend and the birthday boy himself, Seungkwan. They’re chatting all about some program Jihoon has been working on creating. Even Wonwoo is getting in on the conversation.

Wonwoo’s hand never leaves your thigh just under the table. His eyes are focused on Seungkwan and Jihoon listening to them, but his full attention is focused on you. He slides inward just a little bit. Biting the inside of your cheek, you desperately try to hold back a moan. He loves touching you like this in public. You swear this man gets off on teasing you, and keeping you on edge.

Around two in the morning is when Wonwoo helps Chan pour a very drunk Soonyoung into the back of Chan’s car. It’s times like these that you're happy Wonwoo seems to be insanely strong. He can pick up both Chan and Soonyoung like they weigh nothing. His strength is extra fun in the bedroom as well.

The city is lit up in a glow of neon lights, while the rain starts to fall. The glow of the lights reflecting off the water on the ground is mesmerizing.

Soonyoung is sitting in the back leaning against Wonwoo rambling on and on about how he wants to date an alien. Sitting in the passenger seat you listen intently to everything he’s saying to Wonwoo. Chan seems a mixture of amused and annoyed. His annoyance is due to the fact he’s going to have to take care of Soonyoung once you're home.

“Wonu—” Soonyoung whines leaning against him.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any alien friends who I can fuck? I’m not picky, I can be open minded.” Wonwoo bites his bottom lip attempting not to laugh.

“Soonyoung you’re never allowed to drink again,” Chan says.

“Come on, I’ve heard Wonwoo fucking ____ so hard she was literally crying. I wanna know if all aliens are like that.” Your face is probably the brightest shade of red. Your whole body instantly burns with embarrassment.

“Soonyoung!” You yell.

“Soonyoung, please don’t talk about my Starlight like that.” Wonwoo’s sweet nickname he gave you, always makes you instantly smile.

Soonyoung pulls away and gives Wonwoo a look of disgust. “Gross, you guys are so in love.”

“Soonyoung what did you expect? They have been together for eight months. Of course they’re in love.” Chan chimes in.

“I don’t know. I swear the noises coming out of that room don't sound like love. Wonwoo and his tentacle dick seem to fuck her like he hates her.” Rolling your eyes you want to tell him to shut up, but he’s not exactly wrong. You know Wonwoo is head over heels for you, but he fucks you so good, it’s almost as he hates you sometimes.

“Alright Soonie that’s enough. Let’s not talk about my dick or what Starlight is like in bed.” Wonwoo’s voice is so calm it helps soothe the whole car.

“Fine,” Soonyoung drunkly cuddles up against Wonwoo.

Arriving at your home Chan parks the car and before he can even help move Soonyoung, Wonwoo has him out of the car and holds him. Walking behind them Chan stays back with you. “I’m going to put Soonyoung in bed.” Wonwoo says as he opens the door effortlessly with one hand.

Standing in the living room with Chan you’re relieved to finally be home. That entire outing left you a little too stressed for your liking.

“Sorry about the crude stuff Soonyoung said.” Chan is clearly embarrassed by the conversation that just took place.

“It’s okay. I realize me and Wonwoo aren’t always quiet. I’m sorry if we disrupt you guys.”

“I have noise cancelling headphones so don’t worry about me. Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens when Wonwoo has to go home?” This is the question that literally eats away at you every single day. Even if you try not to think about it, you know there is no way this can last forever. He’s a prince with an arranged marriage waiting for him. Even though he’s not cheating on someone with you, you know deep down inside he’s not supposed to be yours.

“Chan I want to have a breakdown just thinking about that. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. He doesn’t seem like he ever plans on going back.”

He steps closer to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I like him and I think he’s good for you. I’m just worried you’re going to get your heart broken.”

“I know. I love him so much, and I’m worried he’s going to leave me.”

The door to Soonyoung’s room down the hallway closes and a moment later Wonwoo appears. “Starlight, are you ready for bed?”

“Goodnight you guys.” Chan excused himself and heads down the hall to his room.

Wonwoo notices immediately that something is off. Your conversation with Chan left you wanting to cry. You know he wasn’t trying to be mean. He cares about you, and he’s worried about you.

Walking closer to you he puts his hand under your jaw, tilting your head up. “What’s wrong?”

“I just love you so much.” A salty tear slides down your cheek.

“I love you too.” He’s always said, he didn’t understand love until he met you. You filled a void in his chest, that he didn’t know that existed. “Don’t be sad Starlight.”

“What if you have to leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going back home. This is my home, you are my home now.” His thumb drags across the delicate skin of your cheek. He brushes away each fallen tear. “Let’s go to bed. Let me show you how much I love you.”

Grabbing your hand he pulls you off to your room. Whenever you’re locked away with him in your room, it truly feels like you’re alone in your own little universe. You’re normally able to shut off your brain and just feel surrounded by each other's love.

Laying on your stomach you slowly lick his already hard tentacle-like length. His eyes are locked in yours as he watches you awestruck. His disguise is long gone. His skin is back to its normal beautiful hue of lavender, and his antennas are popping out of the mess of his dark hair loose curls.

His hands grip the pink cotton sheets below him, as he tries to keep his hands to himself. Everything in him is begging for him to tangle his finger in your hair and guide you up and down his ten inch length.

You swallow as much of his length as you possibly can. Your hand runs along the ridged part of his length that doesn’t fit in your mouth. You swallow as much of him that you possibly can over and over until he’s moaning your name. He’s worried he’s going to rip the sheets with his hard he’s gripping them.

Pulling off him you look up at him through your lashes. There is a lust filled haze behind your eyes. You pump his length just staring at him. “You’re so pretty.” He moans.

“Are you close?” You focus on pumping the bottom of his length as the tip sways side to side.

“Yes.”

Leaning down you focus on just the tip. You’ve learned in the last eight months all the things Wonwoo likes during sex. You’ve learned when he’s closing to coming the tip of his length becomes extra sensitive. His fingers tangle in your hair holding your hair away from your face.

Sucking on the mushroom tip his sweet blue release spills into your mouth. Without even a second thought you swallow down every last drop. Closing his eyes he enjoys the feeling of his high washing over him.

Sitting on your knees between his spread legs, you give him the sweetest smile. Pushing himself up, he leans in close to you. His hand rests on your cheek. He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting a little of his cum that’s leaked out. Your eyes stay locked on his as you suck the sweet cum off his thumb.

“You truly are something else.” He groans.

“Is that a bad thing?” You place your hand on his chest.

“No, you’re perfect. You truly are my soulmate.” He said the moment he kissed you for the first time he knew you were his soulmate. He said when he ran away from Saturn, he felt a calling to earth. Specifically he felt a calling to your house, he said it because he could you. There was an invisible string pulling him to you.

“I love you.” You push him back onto the pink cotton sheets below him. He opens his mouth, but he’s instantly silenced as you grab his tentacle length in your hand. The top part sways in your hand. Lifting your hips you hover over him. The mushroom moves on its own, and taps your sensitive clit.

“Wonwoo—”

Slowly you slide down his huge length. The ridges along the sides of his length rubbing against your gummy walls. Your eyes practically roll back in your head as you bottom out.

Your hand rests on his chest for leverage. Slowly you lift your hips, the ridges of his length catching against your entrance.

His large hands grip your hips helping you, move up and down his length. One of the perks of his tentacle cock is, it's self lubricating when he’s aroused.

His large hand grabs your fleshy butt cheek, squeezing it. You move at a quick pace, practically bouncing up and down on his cock. Biting your bottom lip you try your hardest to hold back the loud moans that want to pass your lips. You’ve never been one to be loud in bed, but there is something about having sex Wonwoo that brings out this different side of you in bed. Maybe it’s the soulmate connect but you feel absolutely feral and horny when it comes to him.

Wonwoo pushes himself up so you’re chest to chest. Your pebbled nipples are rubbing against his chest, earning another whine. “You’re so good for me.” His hand grips your butt again. This time his thumb runs circles along the tight ring of muscle. This isn’t the first time Wonwoo has played with your ass while you’re having sex. You both are well aware his tentacle is too big for you, but that hasn’t stopped you from using toys, letting him use his thumb while you have sex.

“Put it in.” You moan. His thumb pushes pass the tight ring of muscle applying just the right amount of pressure. Squeezing your eyes shut, you head lols back.

You stop bouncing up and down and start focusing on rolling your hips. Your sensitive clit keeps rubbing against his public bone, giving you just the right amount of friction. Your fingers tangle in his dark curls pulling his face down to yours. Your nose rests against his as silent gasps pass your lips.

“Oh god—“ it’s nothing more than a broken gasp. His lips crash against yours for a searing kiss. His mouth muffles your moans. Your fingers grab his sensitive antennas. He moans into your mouth. You learned early on he loves when you touch his antennas while having sex.

Your orgasm feels like a white hot tidal wave. Your walls flutter squeezing his length like a rapid heartbeat. Your fingers tug on his hair without even thinking. You’ve lost your rhythm rolling your hips. His thumb slips further into your ass and he rolls your hips against him.

He doesn't give you a chance to breathe, he keeps moving you against his length. Broken moans and incoherent words fall from your lips. Rolling back your head you see stars.

“Keep being good for me, starlight.”

He pulls his thumb out of your ass. His large hands roam you back touching anywhere he can reach. Everything feels fuzzy as the knot in your stomach starts to form in your stomach again. Everything feels so tense.

You start bouncing on his cock again, desperately hoping to find another release. He’s kissing you like you’re the oxygen his lungs need.

The pressure building inside you isn’t just a normal orgasm. He’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Um—“ your moans are broken words. You can fully form any coherent words.

“Baby, let go.” He can tell by the way your walls are tightening that you’re almost there.

“Won—“ you cry as the flood gates open. The pressure releases as you squirt all over his tentacle cock, and his abs. You see stars, and your whole body feels white hot. Your walls contract around his cock, he’s lifting his hips, slowly thrust in and out of you.

His own high hits him like a blinding light. He feels with you with his sweet blue release. He falls back on the pink cotton sheets dragging you down with him. His tentacle is snug inside you, holding in his cum. You lay flat on top of him as you're both panting, struggling to breathe. His lips are against your neck leaving open mouth kisses in his wake.

“That was intense.” You say against his chest. You’re absolutely exhausted and can barely hold your eyes open.

After a while it could have been minutes or even hours, time doesn’t feel real, Wonwoo pries you off him. He lays you on your bed and slowly cleans your spent body with a warm wash cloth.

He picks you up as if you weigh nothing. He totes you off to the bathroom attached to your room. You’ve never been happier to have the en-suite bathroom. He sits you on the counter as he starts the water. The moment the room is filled with steam and the water is the perfect temperature he helps you into the walk-in shower that fits two people comfortably.

The hot water does wonders, it helps relax your aching body, washes away a mixture of both your sweat and his cum.

Closing your eyes, you let Wonwoo take care of you. You’re absolutely exhausted and surprised you’re even still awake. Wonwoo grabs his favorite shampoo off the shelf. He squirts the mango scented shampoo into his hand. He takes his time massaging your scalp with the fruity shampoo. A content moan passes your lips.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Uh huh.” You hum.

“Let me clean you up and we’ll go back to bed.”

He takes his time, just like he always does. When it comes to aftercare, Wonwoo has always been spectacular. After your hair is freshly washed, he takes his time cleaning in between your legs, making sure to be extra gentle. He knows you’re always sore after having multiple orgasms.

Once you’re both clean he takes his time blow drying your hair. The whole time he occasionally does will leave a kiss against your cheek earning a smile from you.

He towel dries his own mess of soft curls before carrying you back to your bed.

Laying on your side, he’s pressed against your back, his arms are wrapped around your stomach. He keeps pressing gentle kisses to your bare shoulder. You aren’t sure how you could ever love anyone more than you love Wonwoo.

“Starlight.”

“Yes?”

“I love you so much.” His words send warmth across your body.

“I love you too.”

we fall apart

For the last month something in your chest has been telling you that Wonwoo is going to have to leave soon. Today is your birthday and even though you should be happy, you can’t help but be sad.

Wonwoo has gone out of his way to make things special for you. He woke you up to breakfast in bed and a bouquet of flowers.

Normally you would prefer staying in for your birthday, but Soonyoung and Chan have convinced you to meet the other boys at a club in the city.

Standing in the busy clubs with Soonyoung you watch as Wonwoo is standing at the bar with Chan and Seungkwan. Soonyoung is going on and on about some girl he met, but you’re barely paying attention.

Whenever you’re out with Wonwoo, it’s hard to focus on anything there other than him. You can’t quite explain it, but whenever you’re around him you just feel drawn to him.

Soonyoung smacks your hand instantly earning your attention. “Do you ever listen to me?”

Your brows knit together as you stare at him. It’s taking everything in you not to smack his hand to retaliate. “What the fuck?”

“Can you stop looking at your boyfriend and listen to me?” He grabs your glass from your other hand. “He’s not going to suddenly disappear.”

“I’m not worried about that.” That’s definitely a lie you are worried he’s going to vanish suddenly.

“Why are you staring at him then?” He takes a drink of your vodka and cranberry.

“I don’t know.”

“You seem extra stressed. It’s your birthday, you’re supposed to let loose.” He holds your drink out for you.

Wonwoo looks over from the bar watching you carefully. Chan nudges him and gives him a smile. “She’s always focused on you.”

“It’s okay, all I think about is her.” Wonwoo grabs the beer off the bar top.

“You guys are the perfect match.” Seungkwan chimes in. He doesn’t know anything about where Wonwoo is from. He doesn’t know that you and Wonwoo are literally soulmates. Seungkwan and all your other friends think you met through a dating app.

“She’s absolutely perfect.” Wonwoo watches as Jeonghan and Soonyoung pull you off to the dance floor.

“Go get your girl before Jeonghan tries to steal her.” Seungkwan says.

Wonwoon makes his way through the crowded club. He finds you exactly where he thought he might. In the middle of the dance floor, you’re sandwiched between Jeonghan and Soonyoung. He watches you for a long moment.

Walking through the crowd he lets Soonyoung and Jeonghan know their time is up. He’s let you have your fun with your friends, and now he wants you all to himself.

You open your eyes and smile at the sight of your boyfriend. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pull him closer to you. Leaning down his nose rests against yours. His curls have fallen into his face for a brief moment.

Your lips touch and you feel that same spark you always feel. He pulls away and turns you around. Your back is pressed against his torso. His hand rests in your stomach. You regret wearing this pink silky dress. You want to feel the warmth of his hand against your bare skin.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers in your ear.

Reaching back, you run your hand along his jean covered thigh. Your bodies move together to the beat of the music. Whenever you’re close like this, you feel complete. When you’re apart there is always something they feel like it’s pulling you towards him.

Turning around you wrap your arms around his neck. You sway to the beat of the music. His arms wrap around holding you close. Leaning down he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Wonwoo do you feel it?” You say loud enough for him to hear over the music.

“Yes. Baby.” He doesn’t want to say it out loud but he knows he doesn’t have much time with you.

“Wonwoo how much time?” You pull back from him.

“I think tonight.” You step back. Suddenly everything feels empty. All the noises fade away and you stare at him. You know he’s still in his disguise but you see past it all. Standing there looking brokenhearted is your alien prince. He can’t even pretend like he’s okay. You see nothing but sadness in his dark orbs. “I don’t want to think about it.” He grabs your hand pulling you close to him.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your chest aches staring at him. How do

You pretend like you’re okay. You’re far from okay. The glass floor below you has shattered.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you kiss him. It’s a kiss filled with desperation. Your lips move together in sync. His tongue glides across the seam of your lips. Parting your lips his tongue moves against yours.

Pulling away your nose rests against his. “Always remember how much I love you.”

Pulling back you push away the tears trying to fall. “I love you.”

Jeonghan comes over pulling you and Wonwoo off the dance floor. He pulls you off to the rest of the group huddled around the bar. A round of shots is passed around. Wonwoo keeps his hand on you, as if he’s clinging to you. Almost as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear and not him.

The rest of your birthday is a blur. You never stray too far away from Wonwoo. Any chance you can, you kiss him. Every single kiss feels like a kiss goodbye.

After the last call the group piles out of the club. Jeonghan is leaving with a girl who has caught his interest. Chan helps a drunk Seungkwan into the passenger seat, and Wonwoo gets Soonyoung into the back seat with you and him.

The whole ride home Wonwoo holds your hand. Your head rest on his shoulder, trying to enjoy every single moment you have with him.

Arriving back at the house Wonwoo helps move a very drunk Seungkwan and Soonyoung back into the house.

You can’t go inside and pretend you’re okay. You know deep in your soul something is going to happen tonight. You feel as if you have no time left. Looking up at the sky things feel different. Walking through the house you immediately walk out the back door.

Sitting down on the back porch you look up at the sky. The end is near. There’s this feeling deep inside your chest that is telling you, Wonwoo is leaving.

The back door opens and Wonwoo walks over sitting next to you.

“Are they looking for you?” From the moment you found him in your basement, you wondered if they were looking for him. The prince of Saturn disappeared, there is no way he could run away forever.

“They’ve been looking for me.”

“How long do we have?” The feeling of inevitable doom feels soul crushing.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave. You’re my home now.”

Looking up at the sea of stars. The little lights sprinkled across the sky are a familiar reminder there is so much out there.

“On Saturn do you see the same stars?” You lean over and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah we do.” He stares up at the stars above.

“When you have to go home, will you look at the stars and think of me?” When he inevitably has to go home, you’ll always think of him when looking up at the stars.

“Starlight, whenever I see the stars I’ll always think of you.” He reaches out for your hand. He brings your hand up and places gentle kisses across each of your knuckles. “You see that star third to the right of the moon?”

“Yes.”

“That’s our star. Even if I leave you That will always be our star.” He leaning over he presses his lips to your temple.

The end is near and you both know it. Looking up at the star, your eyes brim with tears. You want to beg him to never leave you, but you know you can’t. Salty tears slide down your cheek. Your fingers are laced with his, sitting close to him. Even if this isn’t meant to last forever you want to enjoy every moment you have left with him.

“Starlight, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He pulls away holding your face with both hands. Leaning in kisses you slowly. It’s a goodbye kiss and you both know it. Your lips move together in perfect sync. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the tears from falling.

His nose rests against yours. His own dark eyes are now brimming with tears. “Baby, my starlight, this isn’t goodbye forever.”

Pulling back you reach up resting your hand on his cheek. Dragging your thumb across the delicate skin you brush away his tears.

He stands up and looks up at the sky. There’s a light shining down on him. Your heart aches instantly. He steps back and starts lifting off the ground. He looks down at you with tears sliding down his cheeks. "I'll always find you. Remember our star."

Standing there you watch as he disappears among the stars. Falling in love with Wonwoo was the easiest thing you’ve ever done, but moving on from him will be the hardest thing you ever do.

The bracelet never leaves Adrian’s wrist. It stays on through showering, sleeping, and work. It’s even on him during patrols and missions. 

At random times  Adrian will lift his glove up to look at the bracelet and think of you, a warmth filling him every time. 

“Shit Adrian, when did you become such a sap?” Peacemaker teases, but Adrian ignores it. This is his way of having you with him at all times. 

Adrian was devastated the first time the thread snapped. You were awoken at 3am on a Tuesday to the sound of Adrian climbing through your window, suit roughed up from a recent scuffle, some loose bloody beads in his hand, and tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry! I think I got caught on something and it snapped. I’m so sorry! Can you please make me a new one? I tried to save as many beads as I could!”

You begrudgingly got up and got to work. Any annoyance you had over Adrian waking you was gone the moment the bracelet was finished, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. It was worth the harsh wake up just to see him smile so brightly. 

That was the first night Adrian slept in your bed, drifting off with his nose nuzzled into your hair and an arm wrapped around your waist, his bracelet resting against your skin. 

The bracelet also stayed on the first time you slept together, a material representation of the bond you shared and the one you were actively fortifying.

As Adrian lifted your hands above your head to hold you in place, he couldn’t help but graze your own bracelet with his fingertips, serving as his reminder that he was just as important to you as you were to him.