bibi

anton, the moment he grew fond of you, swore to himself that he would work harder than destiny. than the universe. than the whims of any god.

that man has been helplessly in love with you since day one. no one can change his mind.

anton is the most patient man to ever walk this earth.

he patiently waits for you when classes are finally over. you pace slower than him when walking together.

when you asked him to teach you some bass basics, and you were struggling, you never heard him hiss or groan in annoyance. it was new to you because you were used to hearing people complain when you were asking for nothing more than help.

anton is the gentlest soul. he was your classmate in high school, the quiet boy who was into music and sports. often carrying his cello and training bag, he would sometimes intentionally bump his things against your desk every morning just so you would notice him and greet him "good morning."

eventually, you became friends and bonded through silly conversations, trips to convenience stores, or random weekend study "dates."

by senior year, it was safe to say he was a close friend who obviously liked you. he wasn't even subtle, yet he remained remarkably nonchalant about it. (he didn't confess, but his actions were telling.)

anton never made you feel pressured to return his feelings. still, both of you stuck together like constant companions.

he was simply charming back then. he always accompanied you to the bus stop, a ten-minute walk from school.

being in love with you meant becoming a total loser for you. imagine him riding the bus, pretending to get off at a stop after yours just so he could linger with you a bit longer. in truth, he didn't even need transportation...he lived within walking distance of the school.

he noticed that you sometimes skipped lunch (to save money or sleep). so, he’d bring far too much food to share with you. he reasoned it as "bulking" for training whenever you asked why his meals were so proportionately large.

anton was always ecstatic whenever you asked him about music. whether it was an inquiry about instruments or what songs were trending, he’d geek out, genuinely pleased that you were interested in his world.

thus, he created a playlist of all his recommendations and shared it only with you. even his friends weren't allowed to listen to it; you were the only one with the link.

besides, he had a folder full of draft compositions, all inspired by you.

one time you mentioned liking a certain drink from the store, and the next thing you knew, it was a consistent sight on your desk every other day.

anton never stares directly at you for too long because he’s afraid his eyes will give him away.

instead, he became a master at watching you out of the corner of his eye. anton memorized the way you tie your hair or the specific sound your shoes make in the hallway.

but he's also incredibly attentive when you speak in class or tell him something you've discovered. you would become self-conscious because he would never break eye contact while you spoke.

anton swore he loved the idea of memorizing your features, yet he mastered the skill of grasping every word you yapped about despite being drowned in the beauty right in front of him.

often, he would look away instantly when he felt his nose burning with a pink flush.

you had to admit that your first love was memorable because it was anton.

...and you for anton.

as you grew older, it was a slow realization that you were just like anton—reserved and quiet. you shared so many interests and opinions, but the contrast was that you were too scared of love.

he was full of it, deserving and willing to give it all.

maybe he didn't deserve you. or rather, any part of your life that felt insecure when you let him in. his upbringing felt worlds apart from yours.

so, as romantic as it seemed, when anton confessed to you while the rain was pouring, you respectfully rejected him and bid him a final goodbye.

your world crushed as you saw his eyes, and how his expression showed he was trying so hard not to beg for answers.

"tell me you don't want me to leave, and i won't." it was hard to hear him, his soft voice clashing with the heavy rain. even if you tell him you don't want him to go, he is still fated to leave for his dreams.

of course, you didn't want anton to leave. he's the only person who sees through you, who genuinely cares for you, and totally understands you.

he was the only person you had.

but then again, your worlds were apart.

anton saw how you looked at him as if he were a stranger. you were the first to break eye contact, running away from him that night.

he stayed frozen there, standing in the middle of the park, drenched. all he could think about was you. he spent another thirty minutes alone in the rain, just in case you changed your mind and ran back.

when anton moved overseas to pursue his dream, you accepted the fact that your shared chapter had ended.

even though the only way you knew how to move forward with life was with him.

during college, you decided to distance yourself from everyone and start a new life. part of that meant leaving someone behind who wasn't there anymore.

anton, on the other side of the world, never stopped thinking about you. he tried asking your mutual friends how you were, but no information ever came back to him.

on your birthday, anton flew recklessly back home (without his parents' knowledge) just to gamble on the chance of seeing you after a year apart.

every year, he typed a "happy birthday" to your old number. he would stare at the blinking cursor, never moving past the drafted text.

anton usually celebrated your birthday in total silence, perhaps just by buying your favorite snack and eating it alone.

he wanted to respect your peace. he knew you so well. you had many reasons to be distant and alter your life, and he wished he could help you lessen the burden. so, showing up suddenly didn't feel right.

but a plane has already brought him back home.

instead, he waited at a cafe near your university, hidden in a hoodie and mask.

he had no idea whether you would even walk by or go to that cafe.

finally, after three hours of hoping and inhaling iced americanos, the bell chimed. there you were—the person he loved so much, despite the painful silence between you.

you had changed, and it was physically visible. he couldn't pinpoint if it was for better or worse, but he wouldn't dare bother you.

you ordered an iced latte and the cheapest cake the cafe had. for a student on a budget, it was enough.

anton devised a simple plan: buy a whole cake of your favorite flavor, ask the server to hand it to you with some made-up excuse, and hurry back to the airport.

you were surprised that day by a "lucky birthday promo." you went back to your dorm happily with a box of strawberry shortcake you had been eyeing for weeks.

the universe had finally favored you. from then on, you promised yourself you'd be a frequent customer there until you graduate.

little did you know...

all thanks to the guy who flew back overseas that night, uncaring of the consequences. at least he knew you were well.

you stopped listening to his playlists. you didn't want to be reminded. but the moment you found out he was still consistently adding new songs, you found yourself saving them again.

anton never stopped adding music to that old playlist he exclusively shared with you. he wasn't sure if you were listening, but the chances were never zero. for years, he added songs he wanted you to hear—songs that resonated with his longing.

it was still you. it was always you for anton.

for his junior recital, titled "Saudade," anton performed pieces by his assigned composer. he also finally completed the drafts he started in high school—the ones you saw only in the hidden music room. the ones you gave suggestions for, despite knowing nothing about the musical notes. the ones you teased him about dedicating to you.

on a random day, you decided to check how he was doing. you jumped from site to site, glad to see him thriving.

you stumbled upon his soundcloud. a three-minute song titled "saudade" was there. you tried to stay composed until you heard a familiar giggle fading softly after the bridge.

anton had sampled your giggle from that silly high school video of the two of you doing dinosaur impressions.

oh.

anton remembers you more than he ever truly knew you.

guess who flew back just to stop by your university on graduation day?

anton was also graduating in two days. he thought, time zones be damned.

he didn't ask if outsiders were allowed. he just roamed outside the venue until the ceremony ended. he spotted you from afar, taking photos with friends.

he wanted to give you flowers, but he didn't know how. so, he settled for the contentment of seeing you happy.

he wore a white long-sleeve shirt that fit his figure perfectly. he blended into the crowd, though people whispered about how handsome he was as they passed.

coincidentally, you saw a familiar face in the sea of robes. your gut told you it was him, but by the time you pushed through the crowd, he was gone.

maybe you were daydreaming.

you swore it was anton. but there was no way he’d fly back just for this. he probably forgot about you already.

anton focused on his career during those years, becoming successful immediately after graduating. he thought that if he ever ran into you again, he wanted to be "worthy" of standing beside you.

months later, when a friend invited you to a reunion at a new family restaurant, you never expected anton to be there.

and god. locking eyes with anton again—it was a struggle to convince yourself that this was reality.

you were mesmerized by how well he had aged. he looked intimidating, secure, and grown.

there was no way a man like this was still single.

there was no way anton would ever care about you like he used to.

when you finally crossed paths, anton’s reserved nature acted as a shield for the fact that he was actually shaking inside. his teenage self was screaming internally. it brought him back to the memory of you looking so dangerously pretty during the senior ball.

you had a way of making him feel incredibly uneasy, almost as if a million butterflies were fluttering in his stomach whenever you were around.

he was more nervous than he’d been at any recital.

anton wanted to see if you remembered him. you didn't react when he arrived at the table. it was awkward; you were sitting right across from him. people started to ask why you weren't close anymore.

"anton, here's the menu," you spoke quietly, handing it to him. the unexpected exchange went completely unnoticed by the rest of the table, oblivious to the tension building in the air.

as he looked across the room, he felt as if time had come to a standstill in that fleeting moment. everyone's chatter faded into a distant murmur, replaced by the pounding of his heart in his ears.

it was as if the world outside had dissolved, leaving only him and the source of his sudden, eager focus, enveloping him in a bead of heightened awareness.

when the group laughed at a story, anton still had the habit of not looking at the one telling the story. instead, he looked at you.

he just wanted to see if you were laughing, or if you felt left out. your reaction was the only one that mattered.

to lighten the mood after the heavy meals everyone had shared, a game started at the table. it was simple: there were random icebreaker questions on cards that anyone could answer freely. although it was somewhat boring, it helped spark conversations and allowed everyone to catch up.

yuha shuffled a card and read it aloud: “when was the last time you traveled alone?” everyone groaned, collectively agreeing that the card was boring. you didn’t have an answer, so you silently agreed with them.

as you picked a new card, anton coldly spoke up. “2023. 2026.” you looked up at him, and he was already sipping his drink. 

“aigooo, no need to brag, nyc boy,” one of your classmates next to him cooed. 

the years he mentioned were significant to you, so you watched him intently, wondering where someone as busy as him traveled alone during those times. 

anton took another sip of his drink before glancing at you, as you were already conversing with yuha.

2023. your birthday.

2026. your graduation day.

later, he volunteered to drive friends home, and you were assigned to his car along with two classmates.

you discovered that he was residing in your building, sharing an apartment with your best friend's brother. they were living together temporarily while he searched for a place of his own, creating an unexpected connection just down the hall.

a true coincidence. destiny had favored him this time.

"unlucky" for you, you had to sit in the passenger seat.

anton was quick to notice you shivering and adjusted the temperature without a word.

when he overheard you were sick, he dropped a bag of supplies at your door. he texted, "i had extras, thought you might need them," even though the receipt showed he bought them five minutes prior.

"it's been five years. i'm sure he has moved on," you told your best friend.

moved on?

anton is immovable when it comes to you.

even now, he drinks the tea you liked and reads the niche authors you mentioned once in passing.

in the years apart, anton found ways to keep you in his life without you being there.

it wasn't obsession; it was just that those things were the only physical tethers he had left.

with his gentle nature, his yearning was physically painful to witness—if only you could see it. he was constantly fighting the urge to reach out.

once, he was already in the elevator when the doors reopened to find you aggressively pressing the buttons, panting. you hurried inside, desperate for the doors to close.

you leaned heavily against the cool, glass wall, your heart racing as the weight of your emotions felt almost tangible as you tried to gather yourself.

when you finally lifted your gaze, there stood anton beside you, his presence steady and reassuring in the midst of your turmoil.

you fixed your posture and sniffed, looking at him with the same eyes that had cried in the rain years ago.

the air felt tight. anton was so surprised that he couldn't find the words to ask what happened.

in a millisecond, you found yourself buried in his chest, arms latched around his back as if anchoring yourself to him. a wave of emotion surged through you, and soft sobs escaped your lips, muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

the world around you faded as you lost yourself in the comfort of his embrace, finding solace in the rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against you.

anton wanted to hug you back so badly it hurt, but he was terrified of overstepping. he let you clutch his shirt, his hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to hold you.

anton used to be the calmest person to hold you.

the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, jarring you from your thoughts and pulling you back to the present moment.

“i’m so sorry,” you stammered, your breath still quickened by the adrenaline. “a drunk man was... chasing me. i got so scared.”

with a deep, apologetic bow, you rushed out of the elevator, eager to put distance between yourself and the unsettling encounter.

you enjoyed reconnecting during hangouts at anton and sungchan's place with your best friend, yuha, and you occasionally bumped into him around the building, sharing small talk.

yuha, the typical best friend that she is, always insists you come to his brother's place so you can see anton.

after one busy week, you finally decided to go for a grocery run. you normally went with sungchan, but out of courtesy, you had to ask anton as well.

"oh. sungchan decided to just sleep and let me come with you," he awkwardly hissed.

when in fact, he actually pushed sungchan before leaving their unit.

the idea of shopping together felt casual yet friendly, an opportunity to bond over shared experiences as neighbors.

while strolling the aisles, your shoulders brushed as you reached for the same item. he went completely still. he didn't pull away. for a loser like him, he savored that half-second of contact like it was oxygen.

you tried to hide a smile when your hands grazed while grabbing a pastry. "hey. look, it's your favorite," he remarked.

he still had the same effect on you.

and he still had the same foolish heart for you.

just as anton memorized your features, he could recognize the sound of your heart the moment you entered a room.

when he spotted you talking to the same mean relative who had mistreated you since high school, he saw the tension in your jaw and the way your eyes lost their spark.

he approached the apartment security with firmness, requesting their assistance in drawing away the intruders from the premises.

after a tense wait at his car, he felt a wave of relief wash over him when the security personnel finally took matters into their hands.

you were so thankful and pleased to hear the admin's mention of the possibility of blacklisting your relative, ensuring they wouldn’t trouble you on the premises again.

anton doesn't just like you—he studies you well.

he leaves for work at the same time as you, so you often meet in the lobby. through those shared encounters, anton was content with the simple "good mornings" you exchanged.

eventually, he found the courage to ask if you needed a ride.

anton was a liar. he would drive thirty minutes out of his way just to spend more time with you in the quiet of his car, where the world felt small, and it was just the two of you and the hum of the engine.

still a loser in love. you never knew he was lying about his workplace location.

shared rides became a space for catching up, until the atmosphere no longer felt thick or uncomfortable.

anton is usually composed, but after a few drinks at a classmate's engagement dinner, his walls thinned.

he was honest.

anton leaned his head back, eyes half-closed, watching you across the table with a look of such raw longing it made your breath hitch. he whispered, "i miss you," and then immediately looked away, blushing.

that didn't exactly help you sleep that night.

just like several years ago, anton became a constant in your life again.

he had a hectic day on your birthday, but rushed to your unit an hour before the day ended. luckily, you were awake.

you were surprised to see him holding the same cake brand you received "for free" back in college.

you both stood there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. a soft smile crept across your face, slowly thawing the uneasiness between you. "i... i wanted to give you this," he said, breathless, his eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and worry.

you felt a rush of warmth as you stepped aside, inviting him into your space.

soon, you found yourself cozily settled on the couch next to him, the lights spread around a warm glow in the room. anton began to sing the softest version of "happy birthday," his voice still a gentle caress that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

as you swayed the cake back and forth, the flickering candle casting playful shadows on your face, a sense of bliss surged through you.

with a deep breath, you closed your eyes to make a wish, then you blew out the candle in one breath.

anton, captivated by the scene unfolding before him. the view in front of him felt surreal.

all the waiting, all the years. it was clear that you were truly worth every single moment.

"what did you wish for?" anton asked as he sliced a piece for you.

"hmm. it's a secret."

he handed you the plate and smiled. "how can i make that wish happen if you won't tell me?"

one evening after his jog, he saw you with someone else in the lobby.

you were grinning, holding a box of chicken tenders from that guy (who held the elevator open for two minutes, uncaring of the sensor).

anton became incredibly polite, but his eyes went cold.

it was funny; you realized you knew him too well. the way he gripped his phone and how his voice dropped an octave.

"not the best chicken tenders," he broke the silence. you looked at him, amused. "very, very overcooked."

"too salty. if you got the yangnyeom flavor, it tastes like shi—"

you laughed. "actually, these are for sungchan. he asked me to pick them up for him. you can take them home."

right. wait, what? sungchan? my roommate? anton thought. stupid jealousy.

you handed him the bag. he was embarrassed, but his nonchalant facade held up.

before stepping off at your floor, you chuckled. "jealous over a delivery guy? tsk." the doors closed on his flustered face.

anton will mention tiny details—a specific keychain or a song you hummed once. you realized he was always paying attention, even when he seemed indifferent.

anton resigned himself to the idea that you might not choose him, so he settled for being the person you can always fall back on.

just like the old days. he remembered using family connections to get you scholarships, helping you confront your deadbeat parents, or gathering sign-ups for your part-time job. he even secretly paid classmates to buy the baked goods you sold. he even had revenge on those guys from the other class who made fun of you once.

even now, you don't know the half of his hidden efforts.

anton was the only person who truly treated you well.

once, you mentioned your laptop was dying, and you panicked over work files.

days later, he brought a giant box to your door. "you can use this for now. it's my extra."

before you could refuse: "it's not brand new." (it was.) "i didn't buy it." (he did.) you accepted it out of necessity, promising to pay him back.

"no need. use it however you want."

he can provide for you more than just the problems that need fixing, more than the convenience you wanted. definitely, he will provide for you however he wishes.

you also had a fair share of moments that you 'yearned' for him.

you find out through sungchan that anton also goes to your building's gym. therefore, that motivated you to become a 'gym person'.

suddenly, you're there every morning at 6:00 am or every saturday night at 9:00 pm.

you definitely had no idea how to use the specific machines near you.

"sungchan's the one who invited me," you boasted to anton, who was only wearing a tank top with his snapback backwards. damn it.

"i don't see a sungchan here every time i come, yet you’re here," anton smirked, almost walking past you. he paused and added, "sungchan trains on a different day. you might want to check on that."

one time, in all this pretentiousness, you were "cooling down" on a mat, but really, you’re just watching him do pull-ups in the mirror.

you started to admire the way the view of his broad shoulders and arms move when suddenly, his eyes met yours through the mirror.

instead of looking away, he holds the gaze while doing one more slow, effortless rep.

you were so flustered that you had to break eye contact right away and move somewhere you can't see him. when did he even get so hot?

sungchan had invited you over for a group dinner, excited to host after yuha had unexpectedly dropped by their place earlier that day.

to the siblings’ surprise, anton dedicated three hours to deep-cleaning the apartment.

once he finished tidying up, he rushed to take a shower, but not before he was left with the crucial part of picking the perfect outfit and perfume.

"anton, come out of the bathroom when i say, uhm… just a heads-up, the floor isn’t dry yet. i had to mop it again!" sungchan called out with a lie.

"okay!" anton’s cheerfully replied, unaware of the scheme that sungchan had. he invited you earlier than the actual dinner time, eager for a little fun at both of you and anton’s expense.

"you can come out now!" sungchan announced, barely able to contain his excitement.

when you stepped into the apartment, you were greeted by the sight of a shirtless anton, clad only in his denim shorts, who had just come out of the bathroom.

water droplets glistened on his skin, and he looked momentarily startled at your sudden appearance.

“i’m sorry! i wasn’t looking!” you covered your eyes in an instant. the shirtless guy was already tomato red.

“yes, you were~” sungchan sung while moving across the kitchen. his laughter threatened to erupt as he watched the scene unfold, a devious grin spreading across his face with the scenario he had orchestrated.

one quiet night, you stopped in your tracks while walking back from the convenience store. "why are you so nice to me?"

this stirred something in him. he finally found the courage to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. his fingertips trembled—as if his existence was a ticking bomb.

anton felt defeated by the sudden question. he looked at his shoes, then back into your eyes with an intense, careful gaze. "i've longed for you for all the years i had you, and all the years i could only remember you. i'm clinging to the hope that you'd eventually look at me and see someone you could love."

he sighed. "guess i was so nice to you."

anton doesn't look away anymore. he looks at you with a heavy, grounded stare, full of yearning that he no longer tries to mask.

as you looked back at him, you realized your own feelings had never truly faded. you were certain this time: you were finally ready to let him in.

the following night, a heavy, hesitant knock sounds at your door.

it was anton, he’s leaning against the doorframe, looking exhausted. the memory of his confession from the previous night never stopped replaying in your head. it's worse now that he's actually in front of you.

his crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows didn't help your current state.

"i left my keys on the kitchen when i rushed this morning. sungchan is out. sooooo, can i stay here for a bit?"

your pulse thrumming in your ears. "sure, chanyo- anton. come in."

the atmosphere in your apartment shifts instantly. "i'll get you a blanket." you said, in attempt of escaping his presence.

"let's talk about last night." he walks toward you, stopping just inches away.

you try to back away, but you almost hit the wall next to you.

he places a hand on either side of you, effectively trapping you in his personal space. "please?" he pleaded.

anton was so close to your level. you can feel your chest ripping out any moment, you avoid his gaze as you can feel his eyes memorizing your face.

"i don't have anything to say to you," you murmured. in response, anton’s jaw tenses.

he looks down at your lips, "you sure?" you looked away and nodded.

you gazed at him once more, a wave of longing washing over you. anton leaned in closer, his warm breath grazing your skin as his nose delicately brushed against yours.

he felt a shiver run through him, every nerve ending alive with anticipation and desire. "you're a loser, anton." you murmured while his lips were just inches away from yours.

"i know." he says, a faint smirk appearing before he finally loses his composure. your thoughts surrendered to the following actions you made.

you don't say a word. you just reach up and clutch his sleeves. when you finally kissed him, it started gentle and innocent, a reminder of how your love started.

finally, he was able to relax his clenched fists at your side. he pulls back just an inch, looks at you, and kisses you again with ferocity. you pulled him closer as the kiss started getting desperate.

just moments after, you were both back on the couch. his hands, which usually stay strictly at his sides to avoid 'overstepping', are suddenly everywhere.

anton tilted your head back to deepen the angle of the kiss. he backs toward the couch, and you follow down instantly to straddle his lap. "now i understand why you didn't want to talk." anton mutters against your jaw, his breath hitching. you can feel his smirk form.

you lean down to kiss the sensitive hollow near his temple that smells like his perfume that you like. you pull away as you notice something. "you have a tattoo here?"

he pecks your lips before responding, "mhm." he fixed a strand of your hair and pulled your face down softly again for a longer, passionate kiss.

a low, jagged moan vibrates in his throat when you wrap your arms around his neck. you decided to move your lips again somewhere.

you softly sucked on the same spot again, teasing him.

anton quietly whimpered.

he actually did whimper.

"stop," he hissed. you were barely holding your grin from the response you got. "i swear."

just a mess for each other. years of pining and yearning had led to this moment.

you pulled away to breathe. he instantly helped you adjust your weight on his lap, both hands were on your sides.

"tell me this isn't your first kiss, anton." you bit your smile. you are a hundred percent convinced he kissed other people back in new york.

anton's head found your shoulder, his shyness evident in the way he hid his face to you. "it is." his voice was barely above a whisper.

a skeptical smile spread across your face as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to fully process the moment. no way.

"so, you're saying that-"

"yes. i waited years for this exact moment. so please, baby, let's continue where we left off." he rubbed the sides of your waist softly, in motions fueled by familiarity and desperation.

you chuckle. it was also your first, but for a guy who's hot and out of anyone's league like him, you still can't believe he waited years for a kiss, as if he was so sure this would happen soon.

every time your hips move against his thighs, anton's breath hitches, and your fingers dig into the muscles of his shoulders.

his hands slide up from your waist, a low growl escapes his throat, coming from a sound of pure, agonizing relief.

anton started to internally suffer the moment he felt you grind your hips down into his in a slow, torturous rhythm. you can feel the hardness of him through his jeans. you smirk during the kiss, as you thought to yourself that he had been holding back far too much. "you're hard."

"kiss my tattoo again and it'll grow bigger." he snickered.

"shut up."

he then started planting desperate kisses on your neck, resulting in him learning your weakest spot. then, he gasps against the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

this time, you were the one physically trembling now at the contact. you gasp his name, while tossing your head back.

anton's lips were back on yours upon the gasp of his name. the friction beneath both of you became a blur of heat and denim.

he hooks his hands under your thighs, pulling you even tighter and closer on his crotch, ensuring you can feel him. when you grind down on him in the perfectly aligned position, he lets out a jagged breath, "baby, please."

his self-restraint snapped. your shirt bunches up, and his hands slide underneath, his palms hot against your skin as his thumbs start to trace the underside of your chest. you moan at the sudden contact you felt next, and you were sure he smirked in between the ongoing kiss.

the friction was tortorous. your fingers moved to tangle in his hair, pulling his head to keep his mouth on yours.

then, it was time again to breathe. you needed something beyond this. when he finally met your eyes again, you sheepishly buried your face in the crook of his neck, while his breathing came in ragged. "i waited for you," you mumbled.

"i love you. so very much." anton gently tilted your chin up with his finger, his gaze filled with warmth. 

"should i say it back now, or should i wait for a more appropriate moment?" you teased playfully, giving his cute, big nose a gentle boop. 

"appropriate can wait, i suppose," he replied with a mischievous smile, and in a swift motion, he unbuttoned his shirt.

the man who swore to work harder than destiny has finally won.

when anton moved into his new apartment, the extra room caught your attention. it looked more than just a typical guest room. it was a room that had soft lighting from the window, with a view of the city, and a thought that reminded you of the type of bedroom you once mentioned wanting.

“this place looks like a jackpot for you,” you said.

"you like it here?" anton asked in confidence, making you look at him in confusion. "i mean, yes. it is a jackpot. i think i made the right choice."

more than the plans he had for himself that included you, he also has curated a life that had a permanent, person-shaped hole in it, trusting that eventually, you’d find your way back to fill it.

you definitely liked it there, and anton was certain of that. so, he has yet to figure out how to tell you that it was actually your room in his own place.

finally, spring came.

“happy birthday, chanyoung,” you murmured, the soft glow of the candle illuminating his face, and suddenly his new apartment was enveloped in a tranquil stillness because of this moment.

the dim lights created a cozy atmosphere that wrapped around both of you like a comforting embrace. you watched your boyfriend close his eyes and take his time before blowing out the flame.

"what did you wish for?"

he looked at you for a solid minute. "my wish already came true."

both of you beamed. he finally leaned in to hold you. "i'm not going anywhere this time." he kissed the top of your head. anton made a quiet pledge to himself at that moment that he would continue loving you like it was breathing.

it had been ten years. through high school, college, and adulthood, anton had waited. he didn't just believe in luck or coincidence. he believed more in the stubborn force of his own devotion.

and he would gladly do it all again in the next life, if it meant finding you over and over.

a love that once ended in the quiet passing of autumn had finally bloomed again in the spring.

because love endures.

“Truth or dare is boring,” Hana groans, flopping backward dramatically. “We already know too much about each other.”

“That’s because you keep making people choose truth,” someone complains from the floor.

You glance up, amused, just in time to catch a familiar profile across the room.

Lee Sohee is sitting on the floor with his back against the opposite wall, long legs folded awkwardly. He’s holding a cup with both hands like it’s a lifeline. His shoulders are slightly hunched, as if he’s trying to take up less space than he actually does. Dark hair falls over his forehead, almost covering his eyes, and he keeps pushing it back only for it to fall forward again.

He’s quiet, as usual. Watching. Listening. Occasionally smiling at something someone says, but never quite jumping into the center of the conversation.

Your mouth quirks.

You know him well enough by now to recognize the difference between uncomfortable and shy. Sohee is the latter: aloof to the point of seeming cold to people who don’t know him, but with a softness underneath that you’ve grown more and more aware of.

You’ve also grown more and more aware of how attractive that softness is.

“Alright,” declares Minjae, clapping his hands loudly enough to make a few people jump. “New game. Since you children can’t commit to anything—”

“Children?” Hana splutters. “You’re literally only a year older than me.”

“—we are playing,” he continues dramatically, ignoring her, “seven minutes in heaven.”

Groans, cheers, an impressed whistle. You raise an eyebrow, interest piqued.

“Seriously?” you ask. “What are we, fifteen?”

Minjae smirks. “You scared, Y/N?”

You smile back, slow and unbothered. “Should I be?”

The room erupts in teasing oohs. Minjae throws a cushion at you, which you dodge easily.

“We’ll use the laundry room,” suggests Jisoo, pointing down the hallway. “It’s the only room with a door that fully closes and doesn’t have people’s stuff all over the place.”

“And it locks,” someone adds.

You notice, out of the corner of your eye, Sohee shifting in his seat. His shoulders tense just enough for you to catch it. You resist the urge to walk over to him and poke fun at him for looking vaguely terrified.

“Okay, okay,” Minjae says. “We need a volunteer couple to go first.”

“I’ll go,” Hana announces immediately, raising her hand.

“Of course you will,” Jisoo mutters under her breath.

“I’m not going alone,” Hana continues. She scans the room, then points at the guy sitting beside Sohee, who nearly chokes on his drink.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” she insists. “Come on, Jihoon, don’t be a coward.”

Jihoon grumbles but stands, and there’s more cheering, more laughing, more half-drunken jeering. They head down the hallway amid dramatic commentary from Minjae. A minute later there’s the click of a door, muffled laughter, and the sound of someone twisting the lock.

Seven minutes, they say.

You’re not really paying attention to how long it actually is. You’re more focused on the way Sohee keeps avoiding everyone’s gaze, staring into his cup like it suddenly got interesting.

He looks up and accidentally locks eyes with you.

You grin.

He quickly looks away, the tips of his ears going pink.

Cute.

The door finally opens. Hana emerges first, hair slightly mussed, lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Jihoon follows, looking dazed and trying—and failing—not to grin.

“Well?” Minjae demands.

Hana just winks. “Trade secret.”

There’s more noise, more laughter, people calling them disgusting. You tip your head back and laugh with them, but your attention sharpens when Hana’s gaze sweeps the room and lands squarely on you.

Oh.

You see it then—the quick, conspiratorial look she shares with Jisoo. The way Minjae’s smirk grows just a little too smug.

This is a setup.

“Okay,” Hana says sweetly. “Next…” She pretends to think about it, tapping her lip with one finger. “Y/N.”

You blink, then huff a soundless laugh as everyone turns to look at you. “Me?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” someone snorts. “You’re always talking big.”

“Yeah, time to put your money where your mouth is,” Minjae adds.

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. “Fine, fine. And my lucky partner is…?”

You already know the answer before Hana turns her head.

“…Sohee,” she finishes, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

The room collectively reacts. A handful of your friends howl in approval. Someone whistles. Another person gasps loudly just for effect.

Across from you, Sohee goes completely still.

His eyes widen, his hand tightening around his cup. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, like he’s trying to force down his surprise.

You’re shocked too—but only for a second. Then you’re grinning.

“Seriously?” you ask, though it’s more amused than protesting. “You guys are shameless.”

Jisoo leans closer to Hana, stage-whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re welcome.”

Your heart thumps once, hard. You’re not about to let them see that.

You slide off the arm of the couch and smooth your clothes down in a deliberately unhurried motion, then glance over at Sohee again. He’s staring at you with a look that could only be described as mortified.

“Come on,” you say, offering your hand as you approach him. “Rules are rules.”

He hesitates for half a second before putting his cup down and taking your hand. His palm is warm and a little damp, his grip careful like he’s worried about holding on too tight.

“Yah, Sohee, don’t die in there,” Jihoon calls out, grinning.

“Don’t break him,” Hana adds to you, smirking.

You wink over your shoulder. “No promises.”

That earns another round of laughter and teasing. You tug gently on Sohee’s hand, and he follows you down the short hallway like he’s heading toward his execution rather than a tiny laundry room.

The hall is quieter. The loud music and chatter of your friends dampen behind you, replaced by the hum of the refrigerator and the slightly echoing sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor.

You reach the laundry room door and push it open. The space is small: a washer and dryer stacked to one side, a narrow shelf lined with detergent and cleaning supplies, and a low, slightly sagging twin bed shoved against the wall—probably there to serve as a makeshift guest bed when needed.

You flick on the light. The room brightens with an almost too-harsh glow.

Then you turn to him.

“So,” you say, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe. “Do you want the lights on… or off?”

His eyes flick up to the lamp, then back to your face. You can see the debate happening in real time.

“Uh,” he starts, then clears his throat. “We’re… really doing this?”

You tilt your head, watching him. “What, did you want to fake it?” you tease. “Tell them we kissed and then just stare at each other for seven minutes?”

Color floods his cheeks. “No, I just—” He fumbles for words, shoulders hunching slightly. “I mean, it’s—this is kind of… manufactured, right? Like they set this up.”

“Obviously.” You step closer, closing some of the distance between you. “But that just means we have an excuse. We might as well take advantage of it.”

His breath catches, eyes widening just a little.

“Unless,” you add lightly, watching his reaction carefully, “you don’t want to kiss me?”

The panic that flashes across his face is immediate and almost comical.

“No! I mean—” He winces at his own volume and lowers his voice. “I do. I… I want to.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging it back from his forehead. “It’s just… weird, that they… forced it like this. That’s all.”

Your chest warms.

He’s not denying wanting you. He’s just awkward about the context.

You offer him a softer smile. “I get it,” you say. “But honestly? I’m not going to overthink it if you aren’t.”

He swallows. “Okay,” he says quietly.

You reach past him and flip the light switch off.

The room plunges into darkness, only the faint glow from the hallway sneaking in around the edges of the closed door.

“Better?” you ask.

He lets out a short, breathy laugh. “A little.”

You guide him toward the bed, your hand still wrapped around his wrist, fingers sliding down until you’re loosely holding his hand again. The mattress dips as you sit on the edge and tug gently.

He sits beside you, stiff as a board.

You can’t see his face clearly, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him. His hands are planted on his knees, fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans. Even in the dimness, you can see the way his knuckles stand out sharp and white.

“Nervous?” you ask softly.

He exhales slowly through his nose. “Yeah.” There’s no point in him lying; it’s obvious.

You smile, even though he can barely see it. “Relax, Sohee. It’s just a kiss. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters.

You chuckle. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” you tease.

His head snaps toward you, even though the darkness hides his expression. “Don’t say things like that,” he mumbles, voice tight. “You’re just making it worse.”

You bite back a laugh. “Alright, alright. I’ll be nice.”

You shift closer, the side of your thigh brushing his. He goes rigid again.

“Sohee,” you say quietly.

“Mm?”

“Look at me.”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation. Then he turns his head, and even without seeing him clearly, you can feel his attention on you.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you murmur. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

You feel him brace. His shoulders square. His hands press even more firmly into his knees. You can practically feel him squeezing his eyes shut.

You lean in slowly, giving him time to hear your breath getting closer. Your nose almost brushes his, your mouth hovering above his.

You pause just long enough to feel his breath hitch.

Then you close the distance.

Your lips touch his.

He goes completely still.

His mouth is soft and warm beneath yours, the faint taste of beer and something sweet lingering on his lips. You press gently at first, testing, the kiss slow and deliberate, intending to coax rather than rush.

He does not move.

His breath stutters, his whole body tensing like he’s afraid to do anything wrong. His hands are still glued to his knees. You feel the hammering of his heartbeat more than hear it, the way his chest rises and falls in a shallow pattern.

You pull back after a few seconds, your lips tingling.

He makes a small, involuntary sound—almost a whimper, surprised and unhappy at the sudden loss.

You can’t help it: you smile.

He blinks his eyes open, turning to you in the dark. You’re close enough that you can make out the faint lines of his face, the outline of his lips parted slightly.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks, genuine confusion threading through his voice. There’s a faint, almost petulant note under it, like he isn’t even aware how he sounds.

You huff out a quiet laugh.

“Because you weren’t responding,” you say, amusement clear. “Aren’t you going to kiss me back? Or do you not want to?”

He makes a strangled sound. “I—no, I do. I really do.” You can hear the mortification crawling up his throat. “I just… froze. Sorry. I…”

You shift closer, your knee pressing more firmly against his. “Don’t apologize,” you murmur. “Just… kiss me like you mean it. Okay?”

There’s a moment of silence. You can feel the weight of it, his decision hanging there.

“Okay,” he says finally, voice soft but sure.

You don’t move this time.

You let him.

You feel him inhale slowly, like he’s gathering courage. His hands unclench from his knees, fingers flexing in the empty air between you.

Then he leans in.

He moves carefully at first, like he’s afraid of bumping noses. His breath ghosts over your lips before his mouth finds yours again.

This time, he’s not frozen.

He presses in, firmer, lips moving tentatively against yours. He tilts his head just enough to fit better, the awkwardness giving way to something smoother as instinct kicks in.

You keep your eyes open to watch him until the very last second, a thrill sparking in your chest at how focused he looks even in the dimness. Then you let your eyes slide shut, hands resting loosely on your thighs as you meet him halfway.

He kisses you again, a little more confident this time. Your lips part slightly in response, and his breath stutters. You feel the tiny hitch, the way he hesitates but doesn’t pull away.

“See?” you murmur against his mouth. “You’re good at this.”

He makes a soft, embarrassed sound that could be a laugh.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, the word muffled by your lips.

You smile into the kiss, then lift your hands.

Your fingers find his face, palms cupping the angles of his jaw. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you feel him jolt slightly at the contact, a tiny shiver running through him.

“Relax,” you whisper.

Then you deepen the kiss.

You angle his head with gentle pressure from your hands, slotting your mouth more firmly against his. Your lips move more deliberately, pulling, teasing, tasting.

He lets out a low, surprised noise into your mouth—half-groan, half-breath. You can feel his focus narrow to just this: your hands on his face, your mouth on his, the darkness pressing close around you.

He leans into you without meaning to, his body’s weight shifting your way. Your thumbs brush up along his cheekbones, and he inhales sharply, returning the kiss with a growing urgency that makes your pulse race.

The bed creaks when you both shift, the old frame complaining under the movement.

You break away just long enough to murmur, a little breathless, “Can I get on your lap?”

Silence. You can almost hear his brain short-circuiting.

“Y-yeah,” he finally says, voice a little strangled. “Yeah. Okay.”

You bite back a smile.

You push yourself up, feeling the mattress dip and shift. Your knees brush his as you move, fingers sliding from his jaw to his shoulders for balance. Then, slowly, you swing one leg over his lap and lower yourself down.

His breath catches audibly.

His thighs are solid under you, tense, every muscle tight like he’s trying desperately not to move in the wrong way. Your knees settle on either side of his hips, and the proximity makes your head spin for a second.

You’re close enough now that you can feel every shallow rise and fall of his chest against yours.

Your hands trail from his shoulders up to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. The strands are soft and slightly damp from nervous sweat. He shivers when your nails graze his scalp.

“Sohee,” you say softly, your forehead nearly touching his.

“Mm?” His voice comes out hoarse.

“You can touch me, you know.”

It takes him a second.

Then his hands, which have been planted like anchors beside his thighs this entire time, finally move.

Slowly, cautiously, his fingers lift and find your thighs.

His touch is feather-light at first, barely there. His fingertips trace the outline where your clothes meet skin, then press a little more firmly, testing the weight, the warmth.

You smile, unseen in the dark.

Your chest brushes his with every breath. You can feel his heart pounding wildly beneath his ribs, the rhythm erratic, like it’s trying to beat its way out.

The way he’s trembling slightly under your touch sends a thrill down your spine.

You tilt your head and lean in again, capturing his mouth with yours.

This time, you don’t hold back.

You kiss him deeper, your lips moving with more insistence. You part your lips and let your tongue just barely slide along his lower lip.

He shudders.

For a second, he freezes again, caught off guard. Then something in him loosens. His fingers flex against your thighs and tighten, pulling you just a fraction closer.

You take that as permission.

Your tongue slips past his lips, brushing against his. The contact is light, a question more than a demand.

He answers.

Sohee exhales a hot, shaky breath into your mouth and responds shyly, his tongue meeting yours with a hesitance that melts quickly into curiosity. The kiss turns slow and searching, the awkwardness replaced by something more natural, more him.

You feel your own heartbeat climb, your body warming where it’s pressed against his. Your fingers curl tighter in his hair, and you tilt your hips just enough to feel him suck in a breath.

He groans quietly into the kiss, the sound low and involuntary.

You smile against his lips.

Your hands slide down from his hair to the back of his neck, thumbs brushing the line of his jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he’s trying so hard to keep himself in check.

“God,” you murmur against his mouth, pulling back the tiniest bit to breathe, your lips still brushing his, “you really are good at this.”

He laughs once, weak and breathless. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not.” You nip lightly at his lower lip. He inhales sharply. “You’re… surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” he admits, voice low.

You slip your tongue over his again, slower this time, savoring the way he follows your lead. His fingers, once tentative on your thighs, grow bolder. His thumbs make small, nervous circles against your skin, like he can’t decide if he’s allowed to roam further.

Each small movement sends a little flare of heat up your spine.

His other hand edges from your outer thigh inward just a fraction. He swallows hard, as if he can feel every millimeter.

The room feels smaller, tighter, filled with the sound of your uneven breaths and the soft, wet slide of your mouths moving together. The rest of the world—the party, the music, the drunken laughter—fades to a distant, muffled blur.

It’s just you and him.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that—time stretches, loses shape. It could be a minute. It could be five. All you know is the way his mouth moves against yours, the way his hands slowly grow more assured, the way your chest presses to his every time you inhale.

Then there’s a sharp knock on the door.

You both jolt.

“Times up!” Minjae’s voice singsongs from the other side. “No extra credit!”

You pull back, breathing hard, your forehead resting against Sohee’s for a second as you catch your breath. You can feel his lungs working overtime.

Slowly, you straighten up.

He reluctantly drops his hands from your thighs, like he has to force them to let go. You lift yourself off his lap, the mattress creaking in protest as your weight shifts.

In the darkness, you can’t see the full extent of his expression, but you can see enough: the flushed cheeks, the swollen lips, the wide eyes that won’t quite look away from you.

You smile, though your own heart is still racing.

“Guess that’s our cue,” you say lightly.

He reaches up and rakes his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it back into place. It’s pointless; you’ve thoroughly messed it up. His hand shakes faintly.

You find the light switch and flip it on. The sudden brightness makes both of you squint.

You take him in properly now—the disheveled hair, the parted lips, the dazed look. The sight sends a little rush of satisfaction through you.

You offer him a cheeky shrug. “We should probably go before they start making up stories worse than what actually happened.”

His mouth opens, then closes again. He nods, slowly, and stands on slightly shaky legs.

You reach for the doorknob.

He falls into step behind you.

As you pull the door open, the noise from the living room rushes back in: loud music, laughter, the unmistakable sound of your friends getting way too invested in a game that really should have stayed in middle school.

You step out first, schooling your expression into something breezy.

Sohee emerges a second later, one hand still hurriedly smoothing his hair, the other hanging stiffly at his side. His cheeks are still a little red.

The room erupts.

“Oooh!”

“Look at them!”

“Damn, you two took your time.”

“Rate it out of ten!”

Hana leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Well?” she asks, gaze flicking between you and Sohee. “Did you enjoy your seven minutes?”

You glance at him.

He’s looking everywhere but at the group, but his eyes flick to you for a split second.

You catch his gaze.

You smile.

“Yeah,” you say lightly, turning back to the others. “We really did.”

There’s another wave of shouts and laughter, people demanding details you have no intention of giving them. You throw a teasing remark back at Hana, something about her setting a high standard to live up to, before letting the subject drift to the next pair of victims.

In the middle of the chaos, you feel a light brush against your elbow.

You glance to the side.

Sohee is there, closer than before, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Um,” he says, cheeks still pink but eyes steadier now. “About earlier.” He swallows. “I… meant it.”

You blink. “Meant what?”

“That I wanted to,” he says, looking at you directly this time. “Kiss you. It wasn’t just because of the game.”

Your pulse skips.

You let a slow smile curve your mouth. “Good,” you murmur. “Because we don’t need a game next time.”

His breath catches.

“Next time?” he echoes.

You bump your shoulder lightly against his. “If you want there to be.”

For a second, the noise of the party seems to fade, just a little.

Then, slowly, that soft, shy smile you’ve always liked spreads across his face.

“I do,” he says quietly.

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝒜𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓃

fluff, f!readerxsoftspken!anton, gentle ,sweetheart,love, boyfriendxgirlfriend

words:535.

Anton isn’t the kind of boyfriend who sweeps in loudly or makes big, dramatic declarations.

He’s the kind you almost don’t notice at first—until you realize he’s been taking care of you in a hundred quiet ways all along.

—

He talks softly, always.

Not because he’s unsure—but because he doesn’t like overwhelming you. When he says your name, it sounds gentle, like he’s handling something fragile.

“Hey… are you tired?” he’d ask, brushing his fingers lightly against your sleeve instead of grabbing your hand right away.

And when you nod, he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He just quietly adjusts—walking a little slower, guiding you somewhere quieter, maybe offering, “Do you want to sit for a bit?”

—

Anton notices everything.

Not in a loud, observant way—but in the way he remembers.

How you take your coffee. The exact tone your voice gets when you’re stressed. The fact that you get colder than you admit.

So when you say, “I’m fine,”

He’ll tilt his head slightly, studying you for a second… then gently hold out his hoodie anyway.

“Just in case,” he says.

—

He’s not big on constant texting.

But when he does text, it’s always thoughtful.

“Did you eat?”

“Don’t forget your umbrella today.”

“I saw something that reminded me of you.”

And sometimes, late at night:

“Are you still awake?”

If you say yes, he’ll stay. Not necessarily talking much—just being there, sending small messages, soft check-ins, like quiet company through a screen.

—

Physical affection with Anton is… careful at first.

He hesitates—not because he doesn’t want to, but because he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

The first time he holds your hand, his fingers barely brush yours.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly.

But once he knows it is?

He doesn’t let go easily.

His grip is warm, steady, grounding. The kind that says I’m here without needing words.

—

He’s the type to rest his head lightly on yours when you’re sitting together.

Or gently fix your hair without pointing it out.

Or pull you a little closer when it’s crowded, his hand hovering at your back like he’s protecting you without making it obvious.

—

And when you’re upset…

Anton doesn’t overwhelm you with advice.

He sits next to you, quiet and patient.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

If you shake your head, he just nods.

“Okay… I’ll stay.”

And he does.

Maybe his hand finds yours. Maybe his thumb traces small, absent circles against your skin.

No pressure. No rushing.

Just… presence.

—

Sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he looks at you a little longer than usual.

Soft eyes. Small smile.

Like he still can’t believe you’re actually there.

If you catch him, he gets a little flustered.

“…Sorry,” he murmurs.

But when you ask why he’s apologizing, he just shakes his head.

“I just… like looking at you.”

—

Anton doesn’t love loudly.

He loves gently. Consistently. Quietly.

In the way he remembers.

In the way he stays.

In the way his voice softens just a little more when he talks to you.

And somehow—

The first note showed up on a Tuesday, wedged right between the metal vents of your locker. You almost missed it as you were too busy trying to balance a half-empty iced coffee, your phone, your heavy backpack, and a textbook that was practically slipping out of your grip. A small, perfectly folded square of lined paper. You place your no longer needed textbook on the shelf of your locker and grabbed the folded note. You unfolded it expecting it to be a reminder from the library or maybe a joke from one of your friends.

You looked really tired today. I hope you get some rest. Don’t forget to drink water.

:)

There was no name. Just a tiny, hastily drawn smiley face in the bottom corner. You stared at it for a second, blinking. It was sweet, sure, but it was also just confusing. You were tired, you’d stayed up until 3 am finishing a paper, but you didn’t think it was that obvious.

“Hey.”

You jumped slightly, nearly dropping your coffee. Anton was standing right next to you, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. He had his headphones resting around his neck, the faint buzz of some song bleeding out.

“Hey,” you breathed out, recovering quickly. You shoved the note into your jeans pocket.

Anton’s eyes tracked the movement, just for a split second, before meeting yours. “What was that?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, adjusting the strap of your backpack. “Just some trash someone stuck in my locker. Probably a flyer for the debate club or something.”

“Right,” Anton said quietly. He didn’t push it. He just fell into step beside you as you started walking toward your class. He naturally shifted to the side of the hallway where the crowd was thickest, acting as a subtle buffer between you and the rush of students. It was a habit you had stopped noticing years ago.

—

You didn’t think about the note again until Thursday.

This time, it was waiting for you after lunch. The weather had taken a sharp turn overnight, the crisp autumn air suddenly biting and bitter. You were shivering as you spun your locker combination, regretting your choice of a thin cardigan.

When you opened the door, the familiar folded square fluttered down.

The weather is getting colder. Make sure you wear a scarf tomorrow.

:)

You picked it up, your brow furrowing. Okay, so it wasn’t a mistake. Someone was purposefully leaving these for you. You looked up and down the hallway, trying to catch whoever was doing it. You looked for someone lingering, someone who might catch your eye and quickly look away, but it was just the usual crowd of people rushing to their next class.

“You’re shivering.”

Anton was leaning against the locker next to yours, watching you. He had a thick, dark green scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Without waiting for you to answer, he reached out and draped it over your shoulders. It was warm and it smelled exactly like him, clean laundry and a faint, woody cologne.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, pulling the fabric closer to your chin. You held up the small square of paper. “Remember that ‘trash’ from Tuesday? It wasn’t trash. I guess someone is leaving me notes.”

You don’t catch the way Anton froze for a fraction of a second. His hand, which had been resting on the metal frame of your locker, dropped back to his side. “Notes?”

“Yeah.” You handed it to him. “Look.”

He took it carefully, his long fingers brushing against the paper. He stared at his own handwriting.

“It’s kind of weird, right?” you laughed, leaning against your locker. “It’s probably a prank or maybe someone lost a bet.”

Anton swallowed hard. He handed the note back to you. “It doesn’t sound like a prank,” he said. “Maybe they just… notice things about you.”

You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his as you both started walking. “Since when are you such a romantic, Lee Chanyoung?”

He let out a small, breathy laugh, ducking his head so his soft hair fell over his eyes. “I’m not. I’m just saying.”

He kept his hands shoved in his pockets for the rest of the walk, terrified that if he took them out, you would see how badly they were shaking.

—

You did really well on your presentation. You always speak so clearly, even when you’re nervous.

:)

Okay, so it really wasn’t a mistake. They were always written on the same lined paper, always folded into that exact same neat square. They never asked for anything, never demanded a reply. They were just observations.

The notes kept coming through the winter. They became this quiet constant in your life. You found yourself secretly looking forward to them, your heart doing a stupid little flip every time you saw that familiar folded square waiting for you. Of course, at the same time, you really wanted to know who was sending you these messages.

I wish I could take away whatever is making you sad today.

:)

You started analyzing the handwriting, trying to match it to the guys in your classes. You would sit cross-legged on the floor of Anton’s room, takeout containers scattered between you, your laptop open with half-finished assignments you were both ignoring.

“It has to be someone in econ,” you said one night, holding up a note. “They mentioned my presentation.”

Anton, sitting across from you.

“Maybe,” he said carefully.

“Or someone in the library,” you added. “Or, wait, what if it’s someone I don’t even know?”

Anton huffed out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That’s kind of creepy.”

“Exactly,” you said, pointing at him like that proved your point.

But you didn’t notice the way it caught him of guard every time you mentioned the notes, or how he went quieter, more careful.

He watched you. Not in a creepy way of course. But he watched the way you chewed on the inside of your cheek when you were stressed, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about a movie you loved, the way you absentmindedly leaned into him when you were tired. He ached with this quiet, desperate longing that he didn’t know what to do with. How could he tell you straight up? You were his best friend. If he told you and you didn’t feel the same way, nothing would be the same. Things would get weird and Anton would rather swallow his feelings whole than risk losing you.

So, he kept writing them down instead.

—

It happened on a rainy Thursday in late December.

The weather had been bad all day, but by the time you got to Anton’s apartment, it was worse. The rain was steady and cold, soaking through your sleeves by the time you reached the door. You pulled your spare key out of your bag and unlocked it without thinking much about it. He had given it to you a while ago casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. In case you get there before me.

You stepped inside and kicked your shoes off by the door. It was warm and quiet, the faint smell of laundry detergent and something slightly woody lingering in the air. His place always smelled like him. You called out his name once, even though you already knew he wasn’t home, and when there was no answer, you walked further in and dropped your bag by the counter.

Your phone buzzed.

anton: running late. practice went over. you should start without me

You lightly chuckled and replied back that you were already inside. It wasn’t unusual. He was always late when he had swim practice.

You walked into his room, already planning to just sit there and wait. You’d been in there enough times that it didn’t feel weird anymore. His bed was unmade, the sheets slightly messy like he had rushed out that morning.

You places some of your things onto the desk.

That’s when you noticed the notebook sitting near the edge.

Black leather and lightly worn.

You paused for a second. He always had it with him. You’d seen him write in it all the time—during class, at lunch, even when you were just sitting together doing nothing. He never really let it out of his sight, and whenever you joked about it, he would just laugh and brush it off.

So it was weird that it was just sitting there.

You turned it in your hands for a second feeling the leather, then leaned forward to move it out of the way.

A piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor.

You froze.

You stared at it for a second before crouching down to pick it up. It was just a piece of lined paper, folded once. Something about it made your chest feel tight.

You hesitated for a second, then unfolded it.

I wish I was brave enough to tell you.

You didn’t move.

You just stared at the words, your mind taking a second to catch up.

Because you knew the handwriting.

You had seen it before.

Your grip tightened slightly on the paper as everything started to connect. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the sound of the rain outside fading into a dull. Your mind was racing, piecing together the puzzle that had literally been right in front of you the entire time.

The quiet observations, the gentle reminders. The way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even before you did.

It was him. It had always been him.

Your phone buzzed again behind you, making you flinch slightly.

anton: almost there

You stayed where you were, still holding the paper, looking around his room like you were seeing it differently now. His desk, his clothes, everything felt more personal all of a sudden.

You heard the front door unlock followed by footsteps toward the room.

A second later, it opened.

“Hey- sorry, I-” Anton’s voice started, slightly out of breath. Then he stopped.

You turned around.

He was standing in the doorway, damp from the rain, his hair sticking slightly to his forehead. His hoodie was darker in places where it had gotten wet.

His eyes went straight to the paper in your hand, then to the notebook on the desk, then back to you.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Neither did you.

The room felt quiet in a different way now, heavier.

You swallowed. “Anton…”

He looked away almost right after, like he couldn’t hold eye contact for more than a second. “I didn’t mean for you to find it like that,” he said quietly.

You took a small step closer. “Then how?” you asked.

He just stood there for a second, shoulders tense, like he was trying to figure out what to say without making it worse.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he said.

That made your chest tighten.

“Not at all?”

He shook his head slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t want to mess things up.”

You hesitated for a second before asking, softer this time, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Anton let out a shaky breath, his jaw tightening slightly before he answered. “You’re my best friend,” he said your name softly, his voice still quiet but heavier now. “And I was terrified that if I told you, I would lose you.” He paused for a second, glancing up at you before looking away again. “And I would rather have you as my friend than not have you at all.”

The words hung there between you, and for a moment you didn’t say anything. You looked at him, at how tense he was, how careful, like one wrong move would ruin everything. Your grip tightened slightly around the paper in your hand.

“Anton,” you said.

He hesitated before finally looking up at you again.

“I liked them,” you said.

His expression shifted, just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that. “I mean, at first I thought it was kind of weird,” you admitted, letting out a small breath, “but then I started looking for them.”

He went still.

“It just became,” you added quietly. “Like… part of my day. I just didn’t know it was you.

For a second, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy, like everything was settling at once.

“Would it have mattered?” he asked finally, his voice careful.

Maybe you should’ve said no, that it didn’t matter who the notes were from.

You looked at him, not looking away this time. “Yes,” you said softly.

He stilled.

“It would’ve,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “I think I would’ve liked them more… knowing they were from you.”

Something in his expression shifted at that, like he didn’t expect it, like he didn’t know what to do with it.

You took another small step closer, closing the space between you.

“You wouldn’t have messed anything up,” you said quietly. “And you can’t.”

He let out a small breath, like he had been holding it in for longer than he realized. “Really?” he asked.

You nodded. “Really.”

There was a pause. Like both of you were waiting to see what the other would do next.

His eyes flickered down to your hand for a second, then back up to your face. He hesitated, then reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. He shivered slightly, like he expected you to pull away, but you didn’t. You let your his rest there, feeling the warmth through the fabric.

For a second, it felt like he might say something else. His lips parted like he was about to, then he stopped.

Instead, he pulled you into him.

It wasn’t hesitant, like he had already thought about it too many times before. His arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand pressing lightly against your back and the other coming up to your face, thumb brushing just under your cheekbone like he didn’t want to scare you away.

He was warm, even though he was still a little damp from the rain. You could feel his heartbeat, just as fast as yours.

You tilted your head up before you could think too much about it. For a second, neither of you moved.

He looked at you like he was waiting. Like he needed to know you weren’t going to pull away.

His hand shifted, cupping your face more fully now, thumb brushing your skin once, twice, like he was memorizing it.

He leaned in again, soft and careful.

Your lips brushed and he hesitated again, just for a second.

And then you leaned in a little more.

His hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, like he didn’t want any space left between you. The kiss deepened like he finally let himself believe this was real.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, holding onto him without even realizing it.

His forehead rested against yours, his hand still on your face.

—

The next time you found a note in your locker, your heart still did that same quiet thing. Folded neatly, tucked between your books.

You smiled and rolled your eyes with a soft giggle before you even opened it.

You unfolded the paper slowly, already knowing what the handwriting would look like.

You looked really pretty today.

-yours

p.s i love you :)

Your lips pressed together to hide the way your smile kept growing anyway.

You slipped the note into your pocket like you always did, fingertips brushing over the crease once before you closed your locker.

He had swim practice all day since it was competition season.

His messages stayed short.

don’t wait up, eat without me

The kind of texts that felt normal, but still left a small, quiet gap where he usually was.

—

By the time you got home, it was already dark.

You dropped your bag by the door, changed, and let yourself fall onto your bed for a second, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.

Your phone buzzed.

toni💌: love, are you home?

you: yeah

Then the doorbell rang.

You blinked, pushing yourself up as you walked toward the hallway.

It rang again.

Your heart did that same quiet thing again, only louder this time.

You moved quicker now, reaching for the door.

When you opened it, Anton was standing there with a boyish grin, slightly out of breath, like he had rushed to get here. His hair was a little messy, his hoodie half-zipped-

and in his hand-

flowers

Not a huge bouquet, nothing over the top.

Just a small bundle of lilies, wrapped loosely in paper, a little uneven like he’d picked them out himself instead of buying them arranged.

You blinked.

“Anton-”

He stepped a little closer, almost awkward, like he wasn’t entirely sure how to do this even now.

“I didn’t see you today,” he said it like it explained everything.

Your chest softened a little at that.

“I noticed,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He held the flowers out, not quite meeting your eyes. “I just-” he paused, exhaling softly, “I wanted to-”

You didn’t let him finish.

You reached up, grabbing lightly at the sides of his hoodie and pulling him down into a kiss.

But when he froze for a second, you almost pulled back-

until he kissed you back.

His hand, the one not holding the flowers, came up to your waist, pressing lightly against your lower back as he leaned into you.

You pulled away slowly, just enough to look at him.

He was still a little out of breath, looking at you like he was still deciding if you were real.

You took the flowers from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you did. Then you stepped aside, gently tugging him in with you.

“Come in,” you said quietly.

He followed without hesitation.

You set the flowers down on your desk, smoothing the paper a little even though it didn’t really need it.

“I saw your note,” you said.

He finally looked at you then,

“I love you too.”

The words came out simple, but they landed heavier than anything else you’d said.

For a second, he just looked at you.

Like he wasn’t sure he heard you right.

Your fingers slipped into his sleeve, finding his hand without really asking, lacing your fingers together.

He tightened his grip almost immediately.

Like he had been waiting to.

You leaned slightly into him.

“You know,” you said, glancing up at him, a small smile returning, “you could’ve just told me in person I looked pretty.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little. “I did.”

“On paper.”

“It counts.”

You smiled. “It does.”

There was a small pause.

Then he leaned down again, but this time, there was no hesitation.

You barely had time to react before his hand came up to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you again.

Like he wasn’t second-guessing himself anymore.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his sleeve, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he just held you closer, his other hand coming up to your jaw, thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as he tilted your face toward him.

You melted into it without thinking.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t far.

His forehead rested lightly against yours, his hand still at your jaw, his thumb absentmindedly tracing the same small movement over your skin.

“I meant it,” he said quietly.

You looked at him. “I know.”

He shook his head slightly, like that wasn’t enough. His grip on you tightened just a little.

“No,” he said, softer but more sure this time. “I really meant it.”

Your heart stuttered a little.

You didn’t even get a chance to respond before he leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your lips, quicker this time, but just as soft.

Then another.

And another.

Each one lingering just enough to make your chest feel tight.

You let out a small giggle against him, your hand sliding from his sleeve to the front of his hoodie, holding onto him a little more firmly now.

He huffed out a quiet laugh against your lips, like he couldn’t help it.

“I missed you today,” he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against yours before pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You saw me in the morning,” you said, breath a little uneven.

“Barely. It doesn’t count.”

He kissed you again.

His hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck, not rough, just steady, keeping you close.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time, like it was just for you.

You smiled a little against him.

“I know,” you said softly.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand still at your waist, the other resting against your cheek.

“You’re not getting away with just that,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips now.

You let out a small laugh. “I already said it back.”

“Say it again.”

You looked at him for a second, then smiled.

“I love you.”

You don’t recall the moment he stopped hesitating. He kissed you again, rougher, longer, his thumb lingering at your cheek there like he didn’t want to stop touching you.

Like part of him still couldn’t believe you were his.

their entire personality seemed to change whenever you positioned yourself to take photos, and a part of you felt unsatisfied with how it looked— staged. nothing about them felt natural, but you could still feel their passion through the photos.

you weren’t used to situations like these yet so you didn’t know how to tell them what you wanted to see out of them. you just thanked them and went around to look for your next subjects.

it was always safe to have a lot of photos so you spent your time going around and taking photos as well as scenic shots of the venue. however, the venue was big and going around by yourself was far too overwhelming. you found yourself even avoiding the crowd and going to less populated areas to take photos.

when a big event started, you decided to take a break.

you walked towards a rest area that was far from the bustling crowd. compared to everyone in the convention, your energy was low and you were starting to get tired by the minimal social interaction you had to make.

there was an empty table near the corner, quickly walking towards it before anyone else did. you pulled out your laptop and took your sd card from the camera, inserting it through an external card reader as you open your laptop.

you looked over the photos you took, it was filled with cosplayers in their element. the photos were pretty and you particularly enjoyed seeing the various textures in their outfits— it just didn’t feel fulfilling for some reason.

you had enough for your portfolio but you didn’t feel like any of it fit with your personal style. with how long you’ve been walking around, you didn’t want to feel like you just wasted your time.

a heavy sigh escapes your lips, tearing your eyes away from your laptop when you suddenly noticed an eye-catching looking man dressed in an orange tracksuit, the tips of his hair colored orange with some kind of headgear wrapped around his forehead.

there was something eye-catching and different about him compared to the other cosplayers you’ve encountered, not too gaudy and not too much, and he didn’t seem to be putting up some kind of persona like everyone else was.

everything about him seemed natural, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him out of fascination.

the guy seems to have noticed your eyes on him, but instead of getting offended, he smiles at you, waving at you as if he knows you.

shoot. you bow your head at him shyly, embarrassed to be caught staring so openly.

”did you want to take a photo?” he asks in a friendly tone, pointing down at the camera on your hand.

”o-oh, me?”

he chuckles, nodding. “yes, you,” he sang teasingly, now making his way towards you. he sits across from you, not wanting to invade on what looked like your workspace.

”i’m sohee, lee sohee.” he extends his hand towards you with a smile on his face. a friendly gesture, you assumed.

you place your hand in his, smiling back, “i’m yn.” sohee shakes your hand cheerfully, chuckling before he pulled away.

“are you sure you’re okay with getting your photo taken?” you glance around, everyone was in their own world and chatting among themselves. it didn’t seem like the ideal area for any photoshoot.

he follows your line of sight, understanding your hesitation. “i don’t mind, really,” sohee shrugs, “i’ve been going around by myself because the event i came here for was rescheduled for tomorrow.”

”so i guess you could say i’m kinda bored right now,” he laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

you couldn’t help but laugh along, finding him a little adorable. “does that mean you’ll be here tomorrow? with the same outfit?” you ask softly. your hands start to get busy, transferring some files onto your laptop so you’d have more space in your sd card.

he nods, “yeah, although i was planning to go around in comfortable clothes tomorrow. you know, this hair color was a nightmare to get to work and i didn’t want to do it all over again tomorrow.”

curious, you take another peek at his hair. it was splotchy at some spots, but to you it looked natural for some reason.

sohee notices your eyes on his hair, smiling widely. “it’s chalk!” he exclaims cheerfully before he catches himself, “—or, no, not chalk. it is chalky but not, you know what i mean? what’s it called again…?”

you laugh to yourself, waiting for him to remember what it was called. you decide to give him a helping hand, “hair spray?”

his eyes light up, nodding rapidly. “yeah! that! my sister got it for me but the yellow didn’t work so we used orange instead,” he pouts slightly, touching his spiky hair.

”you could’ve fooled me into thinking this was what you looked like everyday though. you looked really natural,” you giggle, smiling as you insert your sd card back to your camera.

sohee chuckles softly, watching as you fiddled with some camera settings and changed your camera lens. he glances at your expression, finding a small smile on your lips. he couldn’t help but mirror your smile.

”should we go with that?” your eyes suddenly meet his and he felt his cheeks heat up, “uh, for the vibe of the photo, i mean.”

you glanced down at your camera before looking back at him with a cheerful smile on your face, “sure! let’s go with that.”

you put the strap over your head, pressing the viewfinder close to your eye to check the framing. you adjust the lens so its focus was on sohee, deciding to try out a few tricks since it was a practice shoot anyway.

he seemed a bit stiff now that the camera was on him, eyes shifting nervously as if he didn’t know where to look. “does it look okay?” he asks timidly.

you nod, giving him a small smile. “you look great, sohee. just relax a bit more,” you spoke softly in hopes that it would alleviate his nervousness.

sohee turns his head away from the camera, looking at some far-off place. his shoulders were stiff and his hands were frozen solid, even his face was tensed up.

”i’m taking the photo,” you announced, counting down in your head before clicking the shutter. sohee’s unsure movements caused some motion blur on the photo, his hand going up from the table to his head.

”s-sorry! i was kinda nervous,” he spoke quickly before adding, “it’s my first time getting my photo taken with such a huge camera. it must’ve turned out badly, huh?”

you smiled, giggling to yourself. “not at all,” you reassured, checking the photo you just took. “how about telling me some stories while i take photos? maybe you’ll feel more relaxed?”

sohee plays with the hem of his tracksuit, “t-then, can i tell you about the character i’m dressed as?”

you nod in response, getting into position for another shot. sohee’s body seemed to relax, a slight grin on his face as he thinks about what he wants to talk about.

”so i’m dressed as this really cool character called naruto,” he starts, glancing at you as he continued, “he’s a ninja and he’s, like, the coolest guy ever! he’s got this super strong fox inside him and he trained with all these huge frogs at one point!”

you chuckle at his excitement, taking photos in between his stories. “what do you like the most about him? is it just because he’s strong?”

sohee ponders for a bit, and you can tell he’s thinking of a sincere answer. he places his hand on his chin, “well, that’s one of the reasons. but he didn’t always start off strong and talented, you know? he worked hard to get where he is now and though the world wasn’t very kind to him, he still uses the power he has to help other people and i think it’s admirable.”

you listened to him, nodding along as you took photos of him. he seems to feel less conscious around your camera now, even trying out some poses which makes you feel a little proud.

”oh! there’s something i want to show you!” sohee beams at you, shifting in his seat slightly. you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him through the viewfinder, helping him out by centering him in the shot.

sohee puts his hands together, elbows sticking up. his expression was focused as he made unfamiliar hand gestures with his hands. you haven’t checked the photos yet but you already had a good feeling that they turned out well, wanting to check it with sohee a bit later.

meanwhile, sohee kept excitedly doing hand motions while his hands were pressed together, his brows furrowed in concentration. you kept taking photos of him, and you notice how comfortable he was starting to get around you as well.

he turns towards you, a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face. “am i doing good? you haven’t said anything in a while,” he jokes. before you could catch yourself, your finger clicks on the shutter, a clear image of sohee’s blinding smile now burned in your brain.

you put your camera down, somewhat flustered. “sorry, i got too absorbed,” you mumbled, getting up from your seat to go around his side of the table.

”um, here,” you showed him the photos you took, bending forward slightly so he could see.

sohee kept exclaiming out of awe, commenting on how good the photos turned out or how he doesn’t remember doing a pose like that and then being amazed. he peeks at your expression, noticing a creeping blush on your cheeks.

the corners of his lips kept curling up, his eyes now focused on you instead of your camera screen.

as you looked through the photos you took, you also felt the same excitement and joy sohee was expressing in his photos. a part of you wanted to keep taking photos with him as a subject, but you didn’t want to take up too much of his time.

you pulled away, but your eyes kept lingering on sohee. something about him just kept drawing you in and you had no idea what it was just yet.

sohee smiles at you, “want to walk around the convention with me? a change of scenery would be good, right?”

”huh?”

he laughs shyly, scratching his scalp as he avoids your eyes. “i guess what i mean is, um, i’d like to be your model for a while more. is that no good?”

you blinked, staring at him until his ears and cheeks start to turn red. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he just wanted to spend more time with you.

”you can say no, i won’t mind! i’m not a really good model anyway, but, you know,” he stammers out, “you’re kinda cool so i kinda wanted to tag with you for a bit more. what do you think?”

”o-oh! i don’t mind! i really don’t mind! i wasn’t too familiar with the venue anyway so i was kind of lost earlier. i-i appreciate it if you would, really!” you rambled on, trying to hide how happy you sounded, or the growing smile on your flushed face.

the tension leaves sohee’s body at your reply, smiling widely. he stands up next to you, already rearing to go.

”shall we, yn?” he asks softly.

you nodded, slightly panicking as you pack up your stuff. sohee watches you carry your bags, the straps almost slipping off your shoulder from how heavy it must’ve been.

”do you have more equipment in your bag? i can help you carry it, promise i’ll be careful. it’s, like, expensive, right?” he offers, holding onto the strap of your backpack and a noticeable amount weight was taken off of your shoulders.

”are you sure? it’s a bit heavy, you might get uncomfortable,” you mumbled but your words didn’t seem to discourage sohee at all.

he smiles brightly, carefully shouldering the backpack, “it’s alright, ninjas can wear backpacks too.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of what he just said, finally easing up. surely, you can trust him with your stuff for a while.

sohee chuckles, walking next to you as you head back into the populated venue.

ㅤyou and sohee began to walk through the venue, listening as he continued to talk more about the story of his character and how he started watching the series. you almost forgot about taking photos until sohee himself reminded you of it.

”here’s a pretty spot. what do you think?”

the lights were bright and colorful at the area sohee was pointing at, you were sure you’d get some impressive shots without much effort, but you were more curious about how sohee would look more than anything.

sohee takes the initiative, standing by the bright lights. he turns his head towards you, smiling just as brightly.

you step a bit closer, adjusting the lens to remove the focus on the lights. you hastily press the shutter in the midst of adjusting the lens, ending up with a slightly blurred photo of sohee.

”ah!” you exclaimed. the small furrow in your brow made sohee think it wasn’t a good reaction at all.

he doesn’t move around much, watching in amusement as you tested various angles and focus. sohee kept noticing how easily pleased you get when you find something that works or when it works out unexpectedly.

his smile starts to get more relaxed, eyes focused on you more than anything.

when you finally put the camera down, sohee walks towards you, returning your beaming smile. he thinks that you must’ve gotten some great shots, and he also couldn’t stop wondering how else he could make you smile like that again.

you walked side by side, arms touching. sohee made sure to keep up with your pace as he looked at the photos you took earlier. he glances at your expression, somewhat satisfied with himself.

”am i really that great of a model?”

you looked at him, tilting your head back just to meet his eyes. it was only then you realized how close you were, yet for some reason you didn’t want to pull back.

”i-i would say so!” you quickly insisted, afraid that he’ll lose his spark. “i’m not sure if the photos i took captured how fun and interesting you are, but i hope my skills gave it justice,” you mumbled shyly.

sohee holds back his laughter, listening to you with sincerity. he kept thinking how adorable you were when you talk about something you’re passionate with. he wonders if this was how he seemed earlier, because if so, then he understood you fully.

the two of you passed by a scenic area surrounded by soft lights and flowers, a set that was meant for taking photos. sohee glances at you from the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as an idea pops in his head.

”don’t you want your photo taken, miss photographer?” he asks softly.

you paused a little, looking at him. “well, i’m not really as photogenic as you are, sohee,” you whispered, somewhat feeling shy at the idea of having your photo taken.

sohee stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your arm as he positions you in the middle of a floral display. you stood around dumbly, staring at him with shock and confusion in your eyes.

he simply lets out a chuckle, his hand pointed towards your camera. “may i?” he smiles, “i’ll take a good picture of you, i promise.”

you take the camera strap off of your neck and handed your camera to sohee. he handles it carefully, his touch a bit clumsy but he made sure he was holding onto it tightly above anything else.

”so i just point and shoot, right?” he asks, smiling at you as he gets into position. sohee stares at the display screen, smiling even wider when he sees you clearly.

you nod wordlessly, your mind running through possible poses you can try to do but didn’t have the confidence to.

sohee noticed how tense you seemed, looking at you past the camera. “don’t be nervous, it’s just me. i was a newbie earlier too,” he reassures you gently.

”sorry, i’m not used to having my own photo taken,” you nervously played with your hair, tucking it behind your ear as you look elsewhere. you hear the soft shutter of your camera, indicating that sohee took a photo of you just now.

”you looked really pretty just now,” sohee spoke quietly, but was loud enough for you to hear. “keep doing what you were doing just now, i like it,” he smiles, cheeks slightly rosy.

you couldn’t help but blush at his compliment, covering your face out of embarrassment. he takes another photo, and you wondered if he was being sincere or if he’s just having fun with you.

”what was that for?”

”i thought you were trying to do a pose,” he shrugs, fighting back the desire to click the shutter button when he sees a pout on your lips. sohee laughs softly to himself, deciding to change the topic before you walk away from the set.

“what did you think about the convention? did you have fun?” he knew you probably weren’t much of an anime fan, yet you still found your way here— and he wonders if this was the universe’s way of repaying him for the cancelled event he came here for in the first place.

”it was pretty fun, i guess. everyone was kind to me even though i didn’t know anything about them or their characters.” the conversation helped you feel comfortable, deciding to put a little more trust on sohee.

”and, if anything, i’m glad i got to meet you,” you added quickly, the corners of your lips curling up. you hear the shutter go off again, letting out a small laugh.

sohee kept clicking on the button, making you laugh even harder. his teasing seemed to really tickle you in all the right places as your laughter hasn’t stopped for a minute.

”i guess you’re really glad, huh?” he grins, watching you calm down after your laughing fit. your cheeks were flushed from laughing too hard, and the smile on your face was too beautiful to ignore. sohee takes one last photo, mesmerized by how pretty you looked.

you step away from the set, walking toward sohee who was staring at your camera screen. “does it look funny?” you asked, trying to get his attention. he seemed frozen in place, blush creeping up to his ear.

”sohee?”

”huh? oh! oh, no!” he blushes, backing out of the camera gallery after staring at your photos. “i-i think it turned out pretty,” he mumbles shyly, “really pretty.”

you chuckle, taking your camera back from him. sohee watches as you checked the photos he took with a smile on your face, his heart skipping a beat.

he knew he can’t just let it end here.

”yn?” sohee starts, his voice small and timid, “do you want to come with me tomorrow?”

you froze, staring at him in surprise, “tomorrow? you mean to the event you wanted to go to?”

he nods sheepishly, “i really like hanging out with you, and i’d be happy if you say yes.”

you were speechless. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was asking you out on a—

”date?” you blurted out absentmindedly, covering your mouth with your hands when you realized.

sohee chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. “i guess it is a date, huh?” he joked, “bet no one’s ever asked you for a date to an anime convention.” you knew sohee said it in a joking manner but his tone sounded a bit sad.

”i don’t think it’s a bad thing,” you quickly spoke, “a-and besides, you’re the only person i’d agree to go with if it even matters.”

his expression brightens up immediately, wide eyes staring at you. “really?! really, really?” he spins around, arms thrown up in the air as he holds onto his head. you watched him squirm around in elation, small noises escaping his mouth.

sohee turns back around, a huge grin on his face. “then, i’ll see you tomorrow?”

you chuckled, nodding, “yeah, i’ll be here.”

”then, um, should we?” he awkwardly reaches into his pants pocket, fingers playing with his phone.

you realize what he was implying a beat too late, quickly grabbing your phone from your jacket. sohee chuckles when you hastily hand him your phone.

after you exchange contact information, the smiles from your faces doesn’t seem to be going down any time soon. sohee laughs shyly to mask his giddiness for tomorrow’s date, turning around to walk side by side with you again.

your heart was beating fast and you wondered if he can hear it when you were this close to each other. you turn your head slightly to look at him, only to realize that he was looking at you as well.

you both turn away from each other, and after a short silence, began to giggle quietly. your cheeks were heating up, playing with the camera hanging from your neck.

you were already excited about tomorrow, thinking about what camera you should bring. maybe you can bring a more compact camera, one that was easy to bring around and use— and maybe even take a photo together with if everything goes well.

ㅤwhen it was time to say goodbye, sohee parts ways with you at a nearby bus station. he stayed until the bus began to leave, immediately sending you a message.

”i had a lot of fun, miss photographer. thank you for spending time with me today! ^o^”

you see the message he sent, laughing to yourself quietly. you pondered about what to say, lips curling up when one thing comes to mind.

”want to watch naruto together when we get home?”

nope. it’s still utterly useless. determined to get a better view, you take a step back, only to collide directly with someone behind you.

“oof — i’m sorry,” you mumble, turning quickly, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. that’s when you see him.

a young man who looks like he has no right being this pretty in public. soft brown hair that falls just slightly into his eyes, skin lit by the neon signs behind him, features sharp and delicate all at once — and the kind of smile that hits you like a soft punch to the chest.

he lifts a brow, amusement already twinkling. “you look like the map personally offended you.”

his voice is warm. relaxed. amusement woven into every syllable.

you blink sheepishly, your cheeks burning. “i’m not offended. just… lost.”

“ah,” he says, his eyes widening in understanding. he steps closer, hands in his pockets like he has all the time in the world. “a classic shinjuku diagnosis.”

you laugh — you can’t help it. he smiles at the sound, as if he likes it.

“well,” he continues, leaning slightly so he can look at the map with you, “where were you trying to go?”

you explain your destination, the small insurance building you had a final interview at for part-time work, and he hums thoughtfully, the sound resonating warmly in your chest, almost like a gentle melody that makes you feel at ease. he leans closer to the map, his finger tracing the lines with a casual confidence. 

“you’re not even on the right level,” he says, a hint of mischief in his tone.

“…really?”

“yeah,” he replies, a playful grin spreading across his face. “you’re, like… two worlds away from where you want to be.”

you blink at him with a pout, taken aback. “why would you phrase it like that?”

he shrugs, his eyes sparkling with humor. “because you look like someone who could use a little teasing.”

you try to muster a glare, but it falters, and he seems to revel in your failure to be stern.

“i’m nicholas, by the way,” he says, stepping aside with a casual tilt of his head, inviting you to join him. “come on. i’ll walk you.”

“you don’t even know where I'm headed,” you point out, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in your voice.

“yes, i do,” he says simply. “i read the map; remember? the prophecy you were trying to decode?”

you can’t help but nearly choke on a laugh — clearing your throat in an attempt to cover up your mirth. he beams — eyes squinting and cheeks puffing. you found yourself mesmerized.

you follow him through the crowds — he walks with an easy confidence, occasionally glancing back to see if you’re keeping up. once, the crowd funnels too tight and your shoulder brushes his. he doesn’t move away. in fact, he glances down at you with a tiny, crooked smile. like he enjoys the closeness.

great. your heart is now a traitor.

when you finally reach the right platform, he stops and gestures dramatically. he says with equal flare, “your chariot awaits.”

“oh, thank you, your highness,” you deadpan.

nicholas grins. “you can call me that if you want. i wouldn’t mind.”

you snort, your ears burning. he looks very pleased with himself as the train doors open with a chime. people stream inside, pushing lightly. nicholas holds the door with one arm, leaning into the frame.

“go,” he says, eyes warm. “before it closes on you.”

you step inside the train, the familiar hum of the engine enveloping you. he follows, an unexpected shadow at your side, even though you hadn’t invited him. his earlier reluctance to board is evident, yet here he is, a curious twist of fate. raising an eyebrow, you challenge him silently. he merely shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that belies the tension in the air.

“i was headed this way anyway,” he claims, but the words feel hollow.

you don’t buy it.

the train lurches forward, and your hands inadvertently brush against the same metal pole. his grip remains steady, refusing to retreat, and the contact sends a jolt through you. his gaze flickers to your fingers, then meets your eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. it’s a look that dances on the edge of danger, teasing the boundaries of what’s unspoken.

as the train begins to decelerate, he straightens, the moment stretching between you like a taut wire.

“this is your stop,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “try not to get lost without me, okay?” 

the playful challenge lingers in the air, a promise of mischief and intrigue as the doors slide open, revealing the bustling platform ahead. you open your mouth — but the doors chime again, and he steps back as the crowd shifts.

you leave the train, but can’t resist the urge to turn back and look. he’s already watching you, one hand lifting in a lazy little wave, like he knew you'd look back. the doors close between you, and you are left standing on the platform, heart fluttering stupidly, thinking one unmistakable thought, he is trouble.

─────

you don’t expect to see him again.

you tell yourself that all night — on the walk home, under the shower spray, even while lying in bed staring at the ceiling like it personally owes you answers. nicholas was a pretty stranger in a massive city. a brief, heart-accelerating glitch in your routine. a coincidence. tokyo is full of coincidences… but not that full.

so when morning comes, you go to the café near your interview location because coffee is necessary for survival, not because you’re hoping for anything. definitely not because your traitor heart keeps replaying his lazy wave behind your eyelids.

you push open the café door. the soft bell rings. and— your heart drops straight to your toes and rockets back up again. he’s there.

nicholas. sitting at a corner table like he materialized out of thin air, one leg crossed over the other, stirring a drink he’s clearly not paying attention to. sunlight streams through the window, hitting his hair just right — too right — turning him into something warm and golden and annoyingly beautiful.

he looks up. the minute his gaze lands on you, his whole expression lights. like someone just flipped a switch inside him. he lifts a brow. amusement already twinkling, exactly like yesterday. “took you long enough.”

your pulse trips over itself.

“why are you here?” you ask, a little breathless, a little accusatory, a lot flustered.

nicholas sets down his drink and leans back in his chair, hands slipping casually into his jacket pockets. relaxed. comfortable. like this is the most natural place for him to be.

“coffee,” he says simply.

you narrow your eyes. “that isn’t an answer.”

“sure it is.”

“nicholas,” your voice is on the edge of scolding, although your eyes are lit up with merriment. he tilts his head, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. god, that smile is dangerous.

“maybe,” he says lightly, “i wanted to see if you actually made it to your interview alive.”

you blink. “…why would you care?”

he pretends to think about it — one hand tapping the table, eyes squinting in exaggerated concentration.

“hm. no idea.” his smile deepens. “but here i am.”

you want to be annoyed. you do. but your stomach is doing something fluttery and traitorous, and your chest feels… embarrassingly warm. you order your drink quickly, trying to regain composure, but nicholas pulls the chair across from him out with the toe of his shoe — smooth, casual, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“sit,” he says. not an order. an invitation wrapped in confidence. you sit. because apparently you have no spine anymore.

nicholas peers at you from above the rim of his steaming cup, his eyes a blend of warmth and mischief. “so? enlighten me. did you manage to charm them?” 

you let out a dismissive snort. “i didn’t charm anyone.”

he raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “oh, come on. we spent barely ten minutes together, and yet here I am, still thinking about you.”

the words land softly, like a gentle nudge that catches you off guard. you blink at him, momentarily speechless. nicholas catches your reaction — naturally, he does — and a smirk dances on his lips, as he stifles a chuckle.

“don’t give me that look,” he says, leaning in just a fraction closer, his voice low and teasing. “i’m simply being honest.”

your voice comes out softer than you intended. “you… were actually thinking about me?”

he gives a casual shrug, but the subtle blush creeping up his neck reveals his true feelings. “maybe just a bit.”

your heart flips over in your chest, a rush of warmth flooding through you. he clears his throat, straightens his posture, and then nods toward your drink, encouraging you.“go on. i’m all ears. tell me how it went.”

you recount your interview, and nicholas listens — actually listens — like every detail matters. he nods, asks small questions, laughs when you do, and at one point, his knee bumps yours under the table. he doesn’t move it.

your pulse spikes. he notices that, too. by the time you finish your story, nicholas is staring at you with that same soft, amused expression — the one that makes you feel seen and flustered and dangerously drawn in all at once.

as you gather your things and prepare to leave for your next appointment, he stands up as well, a hint of eagerness in his posture.

“i’ll walk you,” he offers, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he brushes imaginary dust from his tailored jacket, the fabric catching the light.

you blink rapidly, caught off guard by the warmth in his gaze. “you really don’t have to do that,” you reply, your voice slightly breathless.

he grins wider, stepping beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, your arms nearly brushing against each other.

“i know.” his voice dips, low and inviting. “i want to.”

you swear the whole café tilts. as you step onto the street together, he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“and hey,” he adds softly, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine, “try not to get lost without me again.”

his smile is warm, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the morning fog. it’s lazy, as if he’s savoring the moment, and there’s a hint of danger lurking in the corners of his lips, a promise of mischief. and somehow, impossibly, you already know — you’re utterly, irrevocably doomed.

you’re pretty sure walking should not feel like this. side by side with nicholas, the world narrows into something unreal — soft sunlight, faint city noise, warm air brushing against your skin, and him. always him. barely a breath away.

he walks close. too close. close enough that his sleeve brushes yours every few steps. close enough that if you turned your hand even a little, your fingers might —

nope. no. absolutely not. nicholas pretends not to notice your internal meltdown. pretends. which is laughable, because he keeps glancing sideways at you, like he’s catching your reactions and quietly collecting them. as if, each tiny fluster is a souvenir.

“so,” he says casually, shoving his hands into his pockets, “when do you start?”

“tomorrow,” you reply, trying to sound cool, effortless, unaffected by the proximity of a boy who looks like he stepped out of an ad campaign. “early morning training.”

he nods, humming thoughtfully. “good. means i get to bother you again sooner.”

your step falters. nicholas looks delighted. you try to regain dignity. “you don’t have to come back.”

“ouch.” his hand drifts to his chest in fake offense. “you wound me.”

“i’m being practical,” you reply quietly, looking down at your feet.

he gives you a slow, lazy grin. “that’s adorable.”

you nearly walk into a pole. nicholas’ hand shoots out on instinct — fingers brushing the back of your elbow, warm and steady. he stops you easily, guiding you around the obstacle without missing a step. your breath leaves you in a soft rush. he lets go, but the ghost of his touch stays, like a warm fingerprint burned into your skin.

“that was…” you clear your throat with a smile, “a little dramatic.”

“i saved your life,” he says.

“it was a pole.”

“a deadly one.”

you try not to laugh. you fail. he beams like he earned it. when you reach the crosswalk, he shifts slightly, angling his body toward you without even thinking about it. protective without being overbearing. confident without trying.

you hate how nice it feels.

“so,” he says suddenly, “what’s your schedule tomorrow?”

you blink. “why do you need my schedule?”

he shades his eyes with one hand, pretending to scan the horizon with exaggerated seriousness. “to coordinate my harassment accordingly.”

a laugh bursts out of you—quick, surprised. his eyes crinkle at the sound. he looks… proud. the light turns green, and you both step forward — but the crowd is thick, funneling you close. too close. someone bumps your shoulder and nicholas moves instinctively, positioning himself between you and the congestion. your arms brush. then linger.

your heart somersaults. nicholas notices. his lips twitch.

“relax,” he murmurs into your ear, leaning down. “i’m not going to let you get swept away.”

“i’m not a child,” you mutter.

“didn’t say you were.” his voice drops half an octave — soft, warm, teasing. “i just like making sure you’re okay.”

oh. oh no. he cannot say things like that. when the street thins out again, he doesn’t step away. he stays close — like being near you has become his default setting. you reach your destination all too soon. he stops with you, rocking back on his heels.

“well,” he says with that familiar grin, “you survived shinjuku. and a pole. you’re getting strong.”

you snort out a chuckle. “thank you for your faith in me.”

“mm,” he hums, his gaze lingers on you, warm and soft and so openly fond it steals your breath. “you can thank me properly tomorrow.”

you lift a brow. “properly?”

“for my emotional labor.”

you stare. he cracks — just barely — into a smile so bright it could warm an entire city block.

“i’ll see you,” he says.

it isn’t a question. he steps back once, twice, hands in his pockets. then he turns — but halfway down the street, he glances back over his shoulder. of course, he does. his smile curves, lazy and warm. like he knew you’d still be watching.

then, with a small salute, he slips around the corner and disappears, leaving you on the sidewalk, heart pounding, mouth dry, whole body buzzing with the ridiculous, undeniable truth that you might actually be falling for him already.

─────

your shift runs late. by the time you’re wiping down the desks and tucking in chairs, the sky outside the office windows has already dissolved into that soft, hazy blue of early night. the streets are quieter now, neon signs glowing against the dark, the air cooler on your skin as you step out. you stretch your sore shoulders, ready to drag yourself home, when a familiar voice cuts through the night.

“long day?”

you whirl around in surprise, your bag swinging with you.

nicholas is leaning against a streetlamp like he’s posing for a photoshoot he doesn’t know he’s in. hands in pockets. one ankle crossed loosely over the other. hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy from the evening breeze. he looks up at the exact moment you do, and his face lights up.

as if he’s been waiting. like he never once doubted you’d appear. your heart stumbles.

“you — what are you…?” you gesture helplessly. “nicholas, it’s late.”

“mm.” he nods, pushing off the lamp. “that’s why i’m here.”

“that’s a bit illogical,” you say softly, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“not at all,” he replies with a casual shrug, his hands still tucked into his pockets. “it’s nighttime. you’re small. the streets can be dangerous. and let’s be honest, i’m quite charming.” he pauses, a playful glint in his eyes. “someone had to step up and take charge.”

you almost choke, the air catching in your throat. “you can’t be serious right now.”

he flashes a wide grin, effortlessly matching your pace as he falls in beside you, as if this is a routine he’s perfected over countless evenings.

“just chill,” he says, his tone light and teasing. “i simply didn’t want you wandering home by yourself.”

your chest warms. dangerously. the street is quiet except for your footsteps. you tell him a little about your shift. he tells you he had a photoshoot nearby — but judging by the smug little smile when he says it, you strongly suspect he rearranged his entire evening just to “happen” to be in the area.

he walks close. again. on purpose. every time a car passes or someone brushes too near on the sidewalk, his hand finds your elbow, brief but steady. protective without asking permission. natural. too natural.

“are you like this with everyone?” you tease.

nicholas throws you a sideways glance that sends a curl of warmth down your spine.

“no,” he states simply. “just you.”

your breath catches in your chest. he hears it. his smile curves — slow, pleased, wicked. when you reach your apartment, you stop at the front gate, turning to face him. he steps just a little closer than necessary, hood casting a soft shadow over his eyes.

“so,” he says softly, “before you go upstairs and forget all about me—”

“i won’t,” you blurt.

his smile widens. “good.”

he leans one shoulder against the wall, watching you with a look so warm you swear it sinks into your ribs.

“i want to see you again,” he says. “properly. no labyrinths. no accidental train rescues. an actual date.”

your heart jumps against your ribs. he sees it. his eyes soften.

“so?” he prompts. “will you go out with me tomorrow?”

you try to say yes normally. you really do. but it comes out breathy and embarrassingly immediate. “yes.”

nicholas’ grin is devastating.

“perfect.” he pushes off the wall. “then—”

and before you can react, before you can even blink, he dips in — and steals a quick, soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. just enough to shock your entire system. just enough to light every nerve on fire. just enough to leave you wanting more.

you inhale sharply — but he’s already backing away, eyes bright, expression shamelessly satisfied.

“hey —!”

he laughs, breathless and delighted, already turning to run backward down the street.

“get some sleep!” he calls. “and be ready tomorrow!”

you stare, stunned, hand pressed lightly to where his lips brushed your skin. nicholas lifts two fingers in a playful salute as he keeps retreating.

“because,” he adds with that familiar, dangerous grin— “you’re in for a good time.”

—

Raindrops trail down the foggy glass doors of the library. An overcast has the usually vibrant quad looking as dull as the sky and the crowds of students have rapidly cleared out into whatever sanctuaries are available.

Normally, the sight of rain brings you a sense of calm and peace. But right now, it's only an inconvenience.

You have an assignment due in three hours, and stupidly, you forgot your laptop charger. All the computers are occupied. You haven't had lunch. You woke up late for the one class where the lecturer is anal enough to lock the door one minute after 9am and he only let you in because he wanted to take the great pleasure of scolding you in front of everyone.

And to top it all off, you don't have an umbrella or even something with a hood for protection from the increasingly harsh downpour.

All in all, it's been a crappy day, and you just want to get back to your dorm, get this assignment done, and then slip into a coma until the new year… maybe even longer than that.

You're debating risking the safety of your laptop, your books and whatever else you stuffed into your flimsy, obviously not waterproof bag and going out in the rain, knowing with your luck today you'll probably also catch a cold, but at this point, fuck it.

Bearing your hand on the cool glass door, you're ready to push it open when a hand lands on your shoulder. Your head turns, and as soon as your eyes meet, the hand drops, and you're looking expectantly at your (somewhat) acquaintance, Sohee.

His eyes lock in on yours a split second longer than deemed necessary before clearing his throat.

“Anatomy assignment right?”

You nod your head dumbly.

“Forgot your charger?”

Again, you nod.

“And no umbrella?” When you nod yet again, Sohee sighs dramatically, as if he didn't initiate the conversation he seems so bothered by.

“And I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet either, huh?”

This time, you just blink at him in response; Sohee takes it as yet another yes and turns slightly back towards the rows of desks and gestures with a nod. “C'mon, you can borrow my charger, and I happen to have food. Plus, we're doing the same assignment. We can help each other out.”

You watch him walk away and only when he passes the librarian's station does he turn back to cock a brow at you. “You coming?”

No other words are exchanged when you eventually follow him, ending up side by side passing through shelves and desks until you reach Sohee's near the back windows.

He has his belongings neatly set up; notes in piles categorised by topic, a large bottle of water in reach of his laptop, notebook set beside it, pencil case placed above. You admire his organisational skills during a deadline because your desk was akin to a mad scientist.

You watch him unplug his laptop and your brow quirks when he pulls out a chair for you to take a seat opposite him; he notices that you've noticed and red blooms far too quickly on his cheeks.

Neither of you comments on it.

In silence, you both take your seats, and you don't notice Sohee observing your rushed movements to pull out your laptop and chaos of notes and loose paper.

While you're plugging in the laptop charger, you notice a hand sliding toward you in your peripheral, and when you look, you see it's a wrap from your favourite shawarma place.

Quirking a brow, you look up, but Sohee has already withdrawn his hand and appears to be focused on his laptop screen. He feels your stare though and shrugs, “you said you didn't eat yet, and I got another in case I was still hungry after my first, but I'm not, so you can have it.

Picking it up, you smile, and Sohee briefly catches it in the few seconds he allows himself to look up, shoulders relaxing, pleased with himself for making you smile.

As you're opening up your wrap, you catch the sticky label and frown as you read the ingredients: salad, extra cucumber, garlic mayo, chilli sauce, lamb.

“You said this was an extra?” You ask

Sohee looks up in surprise, big eyes blinking over his laptop.

“Yeah, that's what I sai—”

“—you don't like cucumbers, though. And this has extra. And you don't like mayo. You said it's too greasy. In fact, this is my usual order.”

When your eyes meet his, you can see just how dumbfounded he is. Face washing in red and mouth opening and closing in search of an excuse.

And he gives you one. A rather lame one, you might add.

He chuckles, all casual and nonchalant even though he actually resembles a deer caught in headlights right now. “Damn, they must've given me the wrong one. A good thing, huh?”

The conversation ends when he pushes his earbuds in and refocuses his attention on his screen.

You're still smiling when you finally open your document and start working.

Just over an hour passes before you feel like you're crashing. Sleep deprivation and screen-tiredness are getting to you terribly, the words blurring together, and your brain becoming dysfunctional and incapable of forming your next sentence.

This time, when a hand comes into view, it's holding a bottle of cold-brew caramel latte. It disappears once it's been set down, only to reappear moments later with a crunchie bar and a mint aero bar.

You don't even look up to see if he can hear and comment with a grateful smile, “you hate mint chocolate. And coffee. And overly sweet things.”

When he doesn't respond, you figure he didn't hear. However, you look up to find him already staring at you with those big, wide brown boba-like eyes.

“You seem to know a lot about what I don't like.” He says softly, slowly, like he was telling himself more than you.

“And you seem to know a lot about what I like.”

You're both caught in each other's eyes, as if daring the other to question this newfound revelation further. And you so badly want to; you want to see that flustered look disturb his warm eyes, want to see his skin flush so blatantly from his neck all the way to his ears, want to hear another of his lame excuses like he's given Taro all these months whenever it concerns you.

But, by now, you should know that Sohee is a Grade A Evader, disappointment befalling you when he is the first to break eye contact and redirect his attention to his laptop.

Sighing you open your drink, satisfaction overpowering the exhaustion when the sweetness floods your tongue. It still lingers visibly, beneath your drooping eyes and in your sagging shoulders.

“Why don't you take a break, and I'll look over your assignment in the meantime?” Sohee offers, unmissable concern displayed as he looks at you.

With a nod, you get ready to hand over your laptop, only to pause your movements when he suddenly stands and moves around the table to sit right next to you. Unexpectedly ballsy you think.

His long legs knock against yours under the table, and if it makes him nervous he actually hides it well this time; something comes alive under your skin, fizzling and steadily burning, low and gentle, but you're so aware of his proximity that you have to wonder if all the shyness he's displayed toward you over these past few months was in your head, and he's actually completely unaffected by you.

However, his closeness brings his scent, and you inhale it like a bee following honey. He smells good. Like fresh laundry. Comforting and refreshing at once. Unintentionally, you lean in closer. So close that the hairs on Sohee's neck stand, and he can feel the warmth of your breath fanning against him. He turns sharply, and you gasp as your noses brush together, and your startled eyes meet. And once more, you can see his fair skin warm deeper and deeper red.

“For a guy who doesn't look like tomatoes, you sure do look like one.” You whisper, aware of how the static between you both is making you tingle, your breath slowing until you're unsure if you actually are anymore.

“You don't like them either.” He whispers back, as if that's the point at all.

So you make it a point, eyeing him up and down slowly and breathlessly say when your eyes refocus on his face “hm, maybe they're not so bad…”

He holds eye contact a moment longer, and you swear his eyes flicker down to your lips, swear he visibly gulps.

But the moment is gone as quick as it came. Instead, he switches into teacher mode, guiding you through your assignments— areas of improvement, parts you did well on, sections that need some refinement, and gave support on the parts you hadn't gotten to yet.

Though you're secretly grumpy inside at how easily he moved on from whatever the hell that was, your angst dwindles into admiration as you watch him explain. He's so patient, taking his time to walk you through it and you feel bad that he may not have finished his own assignment yet, but you feel so grateful that he showed up just when you needed him.

“You're so good at explaining.”

The compliment surprises him and makes him sheepish, a shy smile and denial already falling from his lips with a shake of his head.

“No. Sohee. I'm serious. You're so good at explaining, and your notes always help me. They're so clear and informative. You're like a teacher— better than most I've had.”

When he looks at you, there's a brightness in his eyes that makes your heart swell ten sizes. He looks vulnerable and giddy, though of course he tries to hide his excitement with a small “really?” When you nod your head in affirmation, he beams a smile that bears his canines and lights up his features. A smile that has you feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

With exactly 22 minutes to spare, you manage to submit your assignment. As soon as you see the confirmation of submission go through, your entire body deflates like you're boneless.

Across from you, Sohee chuckles, closing the lid of his laptop. “You did it!”

Returning his energy, you beam at him and sigh out “yes I did. Thanks to you.”

As soon as you praise him, that sheepish look is back on his face. Scratching his neck, you can see the denial coming a mile away when his lips part to speak.

“Sohee. It is really thanks to you. You saved me travelling in the rain and wasting time getting back to my dorm. You fed me. You read over my assignment and gave me pointers. I was on the verge of a breakdown, not even sure if I'd be able to finish and you came through for me. Thank you, I mean it.”

The sincerity clearly catches him off guard, yet another blush forming all the way to the tips of his ears. And this time, instead of denying it, he whispers a shy “thank you.”

You both pack up in silence after that, and then Sohee walks out with you to the library's entrance.

It's still raining, but you don't mind now.

“Here. I have a hood. You can take this.” Sohee has given you a lot of things today, and this time, his hand is stretching out toward you, holding his umbrella.

You frown. “Sohee that hoodie is barely going to protect you. You'll get sick.”

He disarms you with a smile. A smile that has your heartstrings tugging and your breath catching in the back of your throat. So, so ridiculously sunshine-bright. “I'll survive.” Is all he says before he's running out the door through the rain.

Fuck it.

You follow after him, barely getting the umbrella open as you push open the door. Outside the chill hits you bone deep immediately, sound drowning out from how heavy the rain pelts down on the concrete. Still, you yell his name, urging your legs faster, clumsily trying to get your bag over your shoulder properly.

He doesn't hear you, but when he slows down to step beneath the awning of the campus store, you manage to catch up to him.

Sohee doesn't notice you right away, wiping the rain from his face. But when he finally looks up, he jumps back seeing you right there like a dream with his umbrella shielding you.

“Do you like me?” You ask directly. Sohee immediately burns crimson, mouth gaping like a fish out of water as he sputters on air to reply. “Because I like you.”

Those three simple words drown out everything; the sound of the rain, the dull hue overtaking the campus grounds, the cold that was numbing his fingers all disappear as he focuses on you. You and that hopeful look in your eyes as you bravely confess that you like him.

He doesn't reply and the longer he stares at you the more you lose hope.

I guess I really did misunderstand

Resigned, you take a step back, ready to turn away, and Sohee realises you're about to leave. On instinct, he steps forward into the on pour, and his hand shoots out and takes hold of your wrist.

“I… I like you too. A lot, in fact.” He manages to say without stuttering; now it's out there, no pretences, no avoiding you or the truth of how he feels about you.

Your stormy eyes settle, his words washing over you like the sun kissing the Earth, and under the heavy drumming of rain, you breathlessly whisper back “you do?”

Sohee nods, and this time, when your eyes flicker to his lips and his land on yours, he doesn't hesitate. Gently pulled in, you have nl care for his soaked hoody pressing against you when he wraps his arms around your waist and carefully dips his head toward you. The last thing you see before your eyes drift shut is his own wide and vulnerable gaze on you, so tender and raw with emotion he's barely managed to keep contained all this time.

he’s supposed to be mad. no, furious. fumes should be escaping his ears. yeah, sure, you had a petty argument and, okay, it wasn’t that serious, but nicholas wanted to react like it was the opposite. he’s locked himself in your shared room, determined to social distance from you for at least the rest of the year. and although nicholas values his alone time, something doesn’t feel right. the bed feels too big; the AC is suddenly on full blast – everything feels too suffocating. so he leaves the room, his feet carefully padding towards the kitchen. water, that’s what he needs to feel better. what a big mistake.

because that’s when you appear. you just finished bathing. your freshly washed hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and your skin glowed in the dim lighting of your apartment, nicholas assumed you just did your skincare. you sported one of your boyfriend’s old shirts, the rim of the fabric at your knees. you nibbled at your bottom lip in anxiety, a telltale sign that your long bath failed to calm your nerves. you looked absolutely adorable and it took everything in nicholas’s power to compose his posture.

nicholas tries to go about his mission without making eye contact with you. he fishes for the glass pitcher located in the fridge and grabs a random cup from a cabinet beside him. he sits both objects on the island while ignoring your presence. that is, until you walk into the kitchen and stop right behind him. the boy stills in anticipation, silently cursing under his breath when you wrap your arms around his waist and press your head against his back, the smell of your strawberry body wash overtaking his senses.

nicholas tries to keep his mind busy, yet a simple task like pouring water into his cup has his hands trembling. you notice it immediately, of course you do, your palm reaching for the back of his hand to carefully intertwine your fingers together. his shoulders relax instantly so you used that as a sign to keep going. gently, you turn his body around, pressing his back against the island. your movements are slow, like you’re giving him enough time to pull away if he wants to. he doesn’t. he still has this look on his face though; his sharp eyes peering into your softer ones, but you aren’t afraid.

one hand still holding his, the other comes up to cup his cheek, pulling him down to your level. you stare at each other for a while, like you’re telling him with your gaze that you’re here whenever he’s ready. your thumb glides against his cheek. your touch was so warm, you could see nicholas’s fierce look chipping away within seconds.

fuck. he can’t stay mad at you.

after a few seconds, you let go of the boy, deciding it would be best to give nicholas the space he craved. but just as you’re about to turn around, nicholas grabs your waist, pulling you into him so he could smash his lips onto yours. his breath hitches as soon as he makes contact, swallowing your sudden gasps with bliss. his lips move slowly against yours, trying to savor the warmth you provide him as he embraces you in his vulnerability. he holds you close against him, like space isn’t allowed whenever he’s feeling down.

pulling away slowly, he looks at you like a kicked puppy, his head drooping onto your shoulder as he holds you closer – if that’s even possible. you gladly reciprocate the hug though, your hand coming up to run your fingers through the back of his hair. “‘m sorry nico,” you mumble against his ear. he doesn’t have to give a verbal response; squeezing your waist was enough for you to know that he’s sorry too.

tilting your head slightly, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek, smiling to yourself as you can feel him melting into you instantly. his fingers rub against your hips like a silent promise that he’s not letting you go even if he doesn’t want to. and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

︴bonus! not my best work but

▸ taglist 📬 @wtfisgoingright , @xikskrrrs , @estrnrea , @lakoya , @lovelyjuju ,

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it all starts out with you and euijoo – who you became friends with since you attend the same college and happen to be busmates – talking about crushes. he tells you he's really been into this one girl in his class and how he's been working up the courage to ask her out.

“you should totally go for it! what's not to like about you?” you smile encouragingly.

“so what about you?” he asks after a while, trying to come off as casual and not like he just concocted this whole thing solely for the sake of his best friend who has been bugging him nonstop to introduce him to you (euijoo has gotten tired of trying to make him see how ridiculous it would be to introduce him to his own classmate: ‘i don't mean the usual introduction juju, of course i know they know me as their classmate! i just mean it would really help if you could help me break the ice since you'll be our mutual friend. please please please you know i'll keep bugging you so you might as well just give in please juju,’ )

“you got your eyes on anyone at the moment?”

you shrug. “not really,”

euijoo already knew that, of course. “okay, then what's your type?”

you roll your eyes. “why don't you take a guess and i’ll tell you if you're right,”

he lists a couple of names he knows you'll say no to, and then pretends to think for a while. “okay, what about someone like nicholas?” he asks, trying not to seem too eager about your answer.

there is a flicker of hesitation in your eyes. euijoo takes this as a good sign – you didn't hesitate with the others. “i mean he's attractive and all but i don't like cocky guys – no offense though, i know you guys are close and i'm sure your friend in particular is probably not that bad,”

euijoo blinks. “what makes you think he's cocky?” while you aren't exactly wrong, euijoo is surprised because he knows you two have almost never interacted despite being in the same class, and he's sure that his usually suave best friend would've been nothing but a blushing mess in the rare event that you had.

you shrug. “i mean, guys with a face card like that usually are,”

euijoo gasps, feigning offense. “are you saying that us non-cocky guys are not attractive?”

“no no, come on! you know that's not what i meant! i just like a bit of loserism in the guys i date is all. cocky is boring,”

“ohhh,” euijoo can't help but smile to himself. if only you knew what nicholas is actually like underneath that tough exterior. true, nicholas is cocky – but just not in the way you think. he isn't cocky because he is excessively proud of his good looks or something like that. he's cocky in the way cats are cocky – it's just their nature to be a menace. but how does he explain that to you? you would probably think he's just sticking up for his friend. it would be best to just let you see for yourself how goofy and silly and how much of a endearing loser he could be. and that's how he comes up with project loser.

while everything else went according to plan – aka inviting you and nicholas to maki’s (another mutual friend) party and getting you both acquainted enough to execute the next stage of his plan. unfortunately, euijoo happens to get held up for longer than he anticipated at his part-time job on d-day, which is a bummer because he was really excited for this. nevertheless, he decides the show must go on and calls up maki and entrusts his responsibility to him.

you're suspicious of this whole thing. it's so random and oddly specific. when you were playing truth or dare at maki’s party, euijoo had the smuggest look on his face when you chose dare and he asked to take a raincheck on it that you were sure he was going to give you something ridiculous. but a rollercoaster ride? it wasn't even like you were scared of rollercoasters and euijoo knew that. and why with nicholas of all people? as you sit waiting for the ride to start, you turn to nicholas to see if he has any idea what this is about. gosh, he's so much more annoyingly attractive up close. and then you notice his hands tightly clutching the lap bars, his knuckles white. wait, is he actually scared? him? nicholas? the guy with the resting ‘i’ll end you’ face?

˚⟡˖ ࣪

nicholas’ face is tomato-red when he steps off the ride. his gait is stiff and his hands are balled up into fists at his side. he keeps his eyes on the floor. you trail behind him, your eyes twinkling with delight, your smile jubilant. you look like you've had the time of your life.

“you okay dude?” maki asks, stifling a laugh.

nicholas half-collapses to the floor dramatically as you pull maki aside. his head feels hot from the acute mortification he feels. he can still hear the sound of your pealing laughter echo in his ears. under different circumstances, it would've warmed his heart. but not this time, not with the knowledge that you had been laughing at him.

while nicholas can't really hear what you say to maki, he only needs to hear the sound of the two of you chuckling to yourselves to confirm his fears – of course you told maki everything. he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. how is he ever going to face you again?

“what did they say?” nicholas groans after you leave, his voice muffled by his hands covering his face. he already knows the answer of course, so he doesn't know why he's even asking and making this worse for himself.

“um . . . that you screamed bloody murder and held on to their arm for dear life the entire time,” maki snickers.

nicholas grumbles something that sounds like i'm gonna somersault off a cliff.

“and that you looked like the terrified hamster meme,”

nicholas slumps lower, hands still covering his face.

“and that you cussed in like 4 languages,”

he groans and buries his face in his knees. what did he ever do to euijoo to deserve this? why had he betrayed him like this?

“and that they think they just fell in love with you a little bit,”

“i am going to find euijoo and kill him and then myse– wait what?” his head snaps up. he can't have heard that right.

maki shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant although he's having a hard time keeping himself from smiling. “they said, and i quote, that you're so ‘adorkable’ and ‘just their type’ and that it's so ‘insanely attractive’ that you can speak four languages and they wanted to know if you were single.”

nicholas just stares up at him in disbelief for a few seconds. this has to be a prank. “you're serious.”

“yep. and i'm honestly judging them a little, not gonna lie,”

“they didn't mention anything else?”

“nope.”

no. there's no way you told maki all that but left out the worst part – yes, he had actually done something much worse, and that's really saying something – he had taken your hand in his and screamed something along the lines of “OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD I'M GOING TO FUCKING DIE BEFORE I GET TO TELL YOU I LIKE YOU THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING FUCKKKK YN YOU SHOULD KNOW I LIKE YOU” and then upon realising what he had just done he dropped your hand and went speechless (and thank goodness he did, because who knows what else he would've spouted otherwise). so not only did you not tell maki about that and saved his face, (well. saved whatever little face there was left) but you also told him you were actually interested in him after all that? no, that's not possible. maki has to be fucking with him. along with euijoo. they're fucking with him knowing full well how much he likes you and it's a cruel–

“hey, nicholas!” you call from a few feet away, snatching his attention. “i'm going to get something to eat. you hungry?”

oh my god, he thinks, his mouth agape. you actually meant all of it?

you flash him a grin as if in answer to his question. then you take out your phone to text euijoo as you wait for nicholas to get to his senses and join you so you can go get lunch together. now that you know the truth, everything starts making sense – no wonder nicholas would always immediately avert his gaze every time you two accidentally made eye contact in class. you thought him arrogant but evidently not. you can't help smiling to yourself.

nicholas’ phone pings, and he finally tears his eyes away from you. he looks at the text from euijoo, then back at you, and then at maki. he does this a few more times like he still can't quite believe what's happening. then he gets up and dusts himself off. “i mean. i guess a win is a win,” he says to no one in particular before running to catch up with you.

➽─────────❥

if there was one thing that was always certain between you and nicholas, it was that you both have always been there for each other. it's been that way since high school.

he was a transfer student. you had heard multiple girls talk about him the day he arrived, but you haven't seen him. it wasn't until he walked into the cafeteria. he took one glance around the room, locking eyes on you while you were reading a book, and the rest was history. he sat down at your side, and he never left. sure, he brought other people into your group, people you now call close friends, but none of them had what the two of you had.

you were there when he got accepted into the college program he had been dreaming of since he was a kid. you were there when he had his first love and first breakup. he was there for you when you fell and broke your leg. he was there when your parents split up.

he was your ride or die which is what your friends always called you two. platonic soulmates, though you didn't want to be platonic.

you didn't mean to catch feelings for him. you've read enough books to know that it's never a good idea for you to develop feelings for your best friend. you had done so good, until the last 6 months. him and maki were having a competition on who had the most 'rizz', and you were the unlucky judge. maki went first before nicholas pulled you onto his lap and rested his chin on your shoulder and turned your world upside down with just a few words.

"we already know who she belongs to, maki. no need to keep trying."

safe to say nicholas won, but he won a lot more than just bragging rights. not that he realized what he managed to do. the worst part was that you couldn't pull away to try to fix things because he was pulling you right back in. you tried, and each time he would say the same thing.

"i can't have you finding another best friend. you're mine."

the only person who knew of your feelings was one of your mutual friends yuma, and that was only because he walked in on you freaking out about him. he's kept your secret, though he never shut up about making you confess to him. he's named himself the unofficial matchmaker for the two of you, but he's failed every time so far.

you had all but given up at this point, which led you to where you were now, suffering in silence. you were at nicholas' place with his other friends for your weekly movie night. the two of you were in the kitchen setting every thing up when the topic of crushes came up.

"do you remember liking brian in high school?" you let out a snort at nicholas' question. "you were obsessed with the guy until he cut his hair."

"i'm telling you. it was the long hair. it just does something to me." your back was turned, so you couldn't see nicholas turning to look at you.

"so are you obsessed with me?" you finally turn at his question, watching as he dramatically runs his hand through his long blonde hair.

you cover up a cough with a laugh. "you wish. you wouldn't know how to handle me."

"babe, if anyone knows how to handle you, it's me." you roll your eyes, quickly turning away to hide the blush on your face. "back to the topic. do you have any crushes right now?"

you were glad your back was to him because your jaw dropped. you quickly thought of a small white lie to tell him. "i don't think so. though me and jamie went to get coffee last week, and the barista was cute."

"that's not a crush." you turn around when he scoffed. this time his back was towards you while he typed something on his phone.

"then what is? do you have one?"

"of course i do." you swear you felt your heart crack at his words. "you know them too."

you swallow harshly. "i do?"

"you know them very well." he answered. that made you conclude they're in the friend group. besides jamie, who had a raging crush on maki, everyone else was a guy. you didn't think he like guys, but who were you to judge? you would support him nonetheless, even if it wasn't you.

"do i get a hint?"

"they chew on their tongue when they're concentrating. and they have a scar on their right hand." you felt stumped at the oddly specific hints. "i was thinking of convincing them to wear a matching halloween costume with me to maki's party. do you think you can get them to agree?"

before you could respond, you heard knocking on the door. "i got it."

you slipped away, almost running out of the kitchen before moving to open the door. not everyone could join tonight so it was just you, nicholas, yuma, harua, jo, and maki. everyone piled into his apartment before making their way to the living room where nicholas was setting everything down on the table.

"have you confessed yet?" you turn at the sound of yuma's voice. he stood right behind you with a teasing smile. one that dropped when he saw the look on your face. "what's wrong?"

"he just told me he had a crush on someone." you whispered in a panic.

yuma laughed, causing you to glare at him. "yn, that's the oldest trick in the book."

"you're talking to a literal literary major. you don't think i know that?" you question. "i asked him to give me a hint, and he said it was someone who chews the tongue when they're concentrating. and they apparently have a scar on their hand."

once again, his smile fell as he listened to you. "oh no."

"what?"

"look at harua." you did what yuma said. he was sitting on the couch, playing a game on his phone. you opened your mouth to question why when you saw it. he was very clearly doing exactly what nicholas said to you. "everyone knows he does that. i always tease him for it."

"what about a scar?" you ask.

you see yuma nod out of the corner of your eye. "he has on one his right hand. fell as a kid."

"so he really doesn't like me?" you couldn't help but feel upset over the news. you knew the chance was slim, but it still stung.

"i'm sorry." yuma apologized. he took your arm, dragging you to the end of the couch. he made you sit before sitting right beside you, blocking anyone else from sitting by you. "i really though you two were endgame."

"he asked me to get whoever it was to agree to wear a matching costume with him to maki's party." you voiced out, voice cracking at the end. "i don't want to."

"just tell him yes, and i'll handle everything. i'll get jamie to help pick out costumes."

you nod, leaning your head back and closing your eyes to avoid possibly crying in front of everyone. "thanks yuma. can you bring me home after this?"

"of course. i've got your back."

➽─────────❥

in the two weeks after nicholas' confession, you did what you couldn't do before and pulled away from nicholas. you made the excuse that you were working extra hours at work for more money, but you could tell he didn't believe you. it was then that yuma stepped in because of your cry for help that he told nicholas that you had the costumes picked out and would spoil it. you had a bad streak of doing that, so nicholas believed him and gave you some space.

you texted him the bare minimum over the 2 weeks, ignoring every time he asked if you were okay. you were fine. completely fine. definitely not heart broken that your best friend didn't reciprocate the feelings that you had for him.

he asked you if you were riding with him, taki, and jamie to the party. you told him no because yuma was picking you up. you fixed your outfit in the mirror before applying the finished touches of makeup.

you went with a classic, a witch. you had on a puffy black off shoulder dress that went to your calf. you did have part of the dress tied up, so your thigh was exposed. on top of the dress, you had on a black corset that you felt was worth the not being able to breath due to the wonders it did to your figure. you paired it with some black heeled boots and a black hat.

yuma joined you with the all black assemble. he had on a pair of cat ears because he didn't want to dress up, but you knew that everyone would say something if not. so you made him be your cat familiar. once you gave him the cat ears he laughed, but he wouldn't tell you why.

"so what did you and jamie end up dressing them as?" you asked as you and yuma walked up maki's driveway. you could already hear the music pouring out of the house. cars lined the streets as people piled into the house.

"woody and buzz." you chuckled at the answer.

"i'm assuming haura is woody?"

"actually no." yuma answered. "we made nicho woody. it was jamie's idea."

you wanted to laugh, but couldn't as you walked up the steps. "i wonder how that's going to play out."

"not good from what jamie texted me. said they both laughed, but she could tell something was wrong with nicho." yuma explained.

"what does that mean?"

yuma shrugged, opening the door for the two of you before you slipped into the kitchen. "hell if i know."

you probably shouldn't have, but you let yuma fix you a very strong drink. you knew you were going to need something thought to get through the night. you also just wanted to stay in the kitchen because neither nicholas or haura were there. you felt like you could breath, but of course it didn't last long. you had just gotten your second drink when you heard someone call your name.

"yn, you look so good!" you turn, faking a smile when harua compliments you. even though you were upset, you had to admit he looked great.

"thanks. so do you." you risk a glance behind him, but don't see any sign of nicholas. "where's your cowboy?"

"right here." you jump when his breath runs over your skin. you turn to see him standing right behind you, cowboy hat tilted forward so only you could see his face. his flannel and jeans fit him a little too perfectly. "a witch, huh?"

you glance down, fluffing out your dress, trying to ignore the tone in his voice. "yeah. you got a problem with that?"

"no problem. just didn't think you'd pick something so basic."

you nearly flinch at his words. basic. is that what he thought of you? you had spent the whole month talking about how excited you were when you found this dress, and he hyped you up. now he calls you basic. did he think that the whole time and just didn't tell you?

"basic." you hear a scoff. yuma not so subtly moved between you and nicholas, putting his arm on your shoulder. "you're literally one of the most basic characters there is."

nicholas looks over at yuma, eyes locking with the black cat ears on his head. "oh. i didn't realize we were all doing couple costumes this year."

"well, i didn't want to dress up, and the person yn wanted to match with didn't want to. so it all worked out i guess." yuma answered, looking over at you with a smirk. now you get why he laughed when you gave him the cat ears.

"who'd you want to match with?" harua asked, leaning on the counter.

you shook your head. "doesn't matter. i don't think they would've like my costume idea anyway. apparently, they're not a fan of classics."

before anyone could respond, you heard the music stop from the living room, and you knew what that meant. maki had chosen a winner for the costumes. you wanted to stay in the kitchen, but yuma dragged you out to see the winner. maki was standing on the table wearing a joker costume.

"alright, it's time for me to announce the winners of this years costume contest, though i think we all know who the winners are." he paused for dramatic effect, letting the people surrounding you to cheer. "the winners are... buzz and woody!"

you force yourself to smile and clap as nicholas and harua move to the front to grab the medals. nicholas throws his arm over harua's shoulder as he smiles wide. he moves his gaze to you, almost knocking the air out of you.

"i'd like to thank my best friend for putting together the costumes."

the emphasis he put on the word best stings harder than you liked. maybe he was reminding you of what you were to him. nothing but his best friend. nothing more.

"that's what i'm here for." you respond, a smile that he could clearly tell was fake. you turned, handing yuma your drink. "i'm going to the bathroom."

you slip though the crowded room, ignoring everyone around you as you climb up the stairs. you walk right past the bathroom when you heard your name being called.

"yn!"

your stomach tightens, anger coursing though you at the sound of his voice. you don't make any attempt to answer, reaching the room where you normally slept in when you stayed here. you quickly opened and closed the door, locking it right as nicholas got there. your head falls back against the door as you let out a breath as your vision becomes blurred with tears.

"yn, open the door." nicholas pleads. you hear him try the door, cursing when he realizes it's locked.

"don't you have a partner to get back to."

"don't do this."

"i'm not doing anything." you tell him. "go away."

"come on, babe." he tries to coax you, and if you weren't so mad, you would probably open the door. "be the good girl i know you are and open the door, so i don't have to track maki down at get the keys."

your jaw drops at the words. good girl? that was something you didn't mean to tell him. the two of you were drinking when you said that what you liked in the bedroom. he laughed but never brought it up again, and now he's using it against you?

"go fuck yourself!" you snap, voice almost trembling with anger. you move away from the door with shaky legs as you sit on the edge of the bed.

"you're really enjoying this, aren't you?" you look at the door at nicholas' question. you could hear the amusement coming from him like this was some game to him. "hiding behind some door like some little brat?"

you scoff. "i am not a brat!"

"not a brat, huh. then how do you explain this?" he asks. "locking me out, cursing at me, and i know your cheeks are flushed how the normally are when you're mad."

he was right. you didn't normally curse at anyone, especially not him. you knew he was enjoying this too. "you do realize you being an asshole isn't going to make me open the door, right?"

"i know." he answers. the door creaks when he leans against it. "i'm not going anywhere though. not when you're like this. sitting in there all mad and stubborn. maybe a little turned on too."

your jaw drops as your face flushes. "nicholas!"

"come on, babe." he laughs. "i know your thighs are clenched as you sit on the bed. your hands are gripping the sheets while you debate if you want to hit me or kiss me."

you look down, shocked to see how right he is. your thighs were clenched and your hands were in fact gripping the sheets beneath you. you don't answer him, now too wrapped up in what he was making you feel to keep yelling.

"you know." you glance over to the door at the sound of his voice. "i keep thinking about this little habit of yours. chewing your tongue when you're deep in thought. it's so distracting, and i don't even know you do it. i bet you're doing it right now."

you freeze when you realize that you were in fact chewing on your tongue. was this a coincidence that you had the same habit as harua?

"and that little scar on your right hand. just below your thumb." he continues. you lift up your hand to see that you had a scar you didn't even realize you had. "i swear i noticed it ages ago. funny how no one, not even you, noticed it but me."

everything suddenly clicks. the hints. it was never about harua. it was always about you. you were the one he had a crush on, and you ruined it by thinking it was someone else.

you hear him call your name again, tone teasing. you could imagine the smirk on his face now that he's said that. now that you know he never like harua, only you.

you let out a shaky sigh as his words fully hit you. "you are such an asshole."

you hear him laugh through the door. "you love it though."

you stand up, feeling all of the anger you has towards him disappear. though you hesitate to open the door. once you open it, all your feelings were going to be out in the open, not like they already were with the way you stormed off.

you unlock the door and open it, seeing him leaning in the door frame with a smirk. "took you long enough."

"you're lucky i even unlocked it, woody." you mock his costume. you hear his deep chuckle as he steps into the room, brushing against you as he moves to shut the door. once he locked it, he turned to look at you.

"now that i've got you alone, my little witch, want to tell me why you're matching with yuma?"

you roll your eyes. "he didn't want to dress up, and i had the extra costume because i was going to ask you to match with me."

"and why didn't you ask me?"

"because you wanted to match with your crush." you answered, watching as he raised his brows. "don't look at me like that. it's not my fault you give horrible hints."

he shrugs. "i think they were great hints. shows you how much i pay attention to my little witch."

"oh, would you stop with the nickname." you groaned. "and they were terrible hints because they matched someone else."

"maybe, but he's not you." your breath hitches when he steps closer, hand under your chin as he guides you to look up at him. "why could i have him with i could have you? even though you are a brat."

even though you blush at his words, you push him back, stepping away from him. he follows you, reaching you in a few steps before pulling you into his arms. he pulls you flush against his chest as he pushes you against the door, completely blocking any escapes.

"nic-" you whisper, stopping when he leans down.

"yes?" you open your mouth to respond, but you stop when his hand ghosts up your side. you jerk when he just barely grazes your breast before his hands cup your jaw, thumb trailing over your lip. "didn't i tell you you were mine?"

"yes, but-"

"no buts baby. unless it's this one." you gasp when his other hand grabs your ass giving it a squeeze as he chuckles at your reaction. "I told you you were mine, and you matched with someone else. be honest. were you trying to make me jealous?"

you shake your head. "honestly, it didn't cross my mind. though i'm not upset that it did."

"you really are a brat." you yelp when his hand comes down on your ass enough for it to sting through your dress. "tell me who you belong to."

you shake your head, smiling when you hear him groan. "make me."

he pushes you harder into the door as his lips latch to yours. you gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his soft lips against yours, them feeling nothing like you could've imagined. there was a faint taste of alcohol as his tongue mingled with yours.

his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them as he pulled you into his arms. you whimper into his mouth when his jeans brush against your core- the thin material of your underwear allowing you to feel everything.

he smiles against your lips before moving, trailing his lips down your jaw and neck. his teeth nip at your skin, leaving red marks for everyone to see. you let out a soft moan as his hips roll into yours. his hands tighten on you as he pulled away to look at you, eyes dark and swollen lips.

"it sounds like my little witch needs some relief." your lips brush against his as you nod. "then tell me who you belong to."

"you, nicho."

"good girl." his lips find yours as he pulls away from the door and moving towards the bed. he sits on the end of the bed, keeping you in his lap. "but first we need to fix something."

his hand reaches up, taking off the hat that you were shocked stayed on your head. he throws it on the floor before reaching for his. he smirks as he sits the cowboy hat on your head before looking at you.

"much better."

"is this because i was matching with yuma?" you ask, confused to why he put it on your head.

"oh, baby. do you not know the rule?" he questions. you shake your head making him chuckle. "wear the hat. ride the cowboy."

your eyes widen, face flushing as you slap his shoulder. "nicholas!"

you try to take the hat off, but he stops you. "keep it on."

you roll your eyes but do what he says. he smiles as he pushes forward, locking his lips with yours. you groan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hands move along your body. they graze the corset that you were wearing, and you feel his fingers move along your bare back as he undoes it, leaving your lips just long enough to take it off.

now that the corset wasn't in the way, his hands found your breasts, squeezing them. you gasp in his mouth at the feeling of his hands on you. your mind was hazy, letting his hands and lips roam over your skin when his hands grabbed your wrists, leading them to his shirt.

your fingers were shaky as you unbutton his shirt. the break of his touch allowed you a moment where you got stuck in your head. he notices your slow speed, stopping you when you were halfway done. "are you okay, baby? we don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable."

"it's not that." you mumble, looking back up at him. "are you sure you want me? i feel like i'm not-"

you stop talking, a gasp falling past your lips when nicholas' hand wraps around your neck, silencing you. "i wouldn't finish that sentence if you want to be able to sit properly for the next week. do you want me?"

"i do."

"and i want you. you're all i've thought about, plaguing my every thought." your eyes widen at his confession. "seeing you in this outfit took my breath away even though you weren't matching with me. and then seeing you with yuma, i just lost it."

you look down at your outfit. "so it's not basic?"

"no, baby. nothing about you is basic. i was just upset. i'm sorry." nicholas apologized. "will you forgive me, my witch?"

you nod your head, letting him kiss you softly before you spoke. "i'm sorry i didn't realize you were talking about me. the last thing i wanted to do was hurt you."

"maybe i should've pick better hints." you chuckle at him. "at least i'm spending halloween in the perfect place."

you tilt your head. "and where is that?"

his hands grip your bare thighs. "between these luscious legs. and i'll be here all night if you let me."

"what are you waiting for then?"

nicholas groans at your answer as his lips find yours. his hands bunch up your dress before lifting it up, moving away from you as he lifted the dress over your head. it left you in a matching black set. it was one of your favorites, and you could tell it was one of his too. the thin lace barely covered anything- your hardened nipples apparent through the material.

"you could've warned me you looked this good in black." he licked his lips, letting his eyes slowly take in every inch of you. you blush under his stair, moving your arms to cover you when he stops you, pinning your arms behind your back with his hand. it had your breast popping out even more for him. "none of that, baby. let me admire my beautiful girl."

"nicho." his name left your lips in a breathy whisper. he smiled as he looked up to you.

"patience, my little witch. we have all night."

"i really hate that nickname." you grumbled. he laughed has his hand traveled down your neck, tracing along the lace of your bra.

"and i hate that i almost didn't see what you were hiding under your costume."

his hand let go of your wrists as his other hand undid the clasp to your bra, letting it slide down your arms before you tossed it behind you. his eyes take in your bare chest for a moment before he pulls you close to him. you let out a gasp when his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. you melted into his touch, back arching as his mouth continued to bruise your skin.

you could tell he was enjoying it too. his eyes were shut, soft sighs leaving his lips at the taste of you. his arms were wrapped tightly around you to try to keep you from squirming, but it didn't work. he could feel how soaked you were for him through his jeans, how much you wanted it. wanted him. it drove him to the point he couldn't take it anymore.

you let out a shocked yelp when your back hit the mattress. your legs were still wrapped around nicholas as he kneeled back to look at you. his eyes never left yours as he finished unbuttoning his shirt before discarding it. you barely had a chance to gaze at his body before he was back on top of you, lips pressed against yours.

his hands ghosted down your body, feeling as you jerk when his hand trails along your underwear. his touch was slow, teasing as his fingers ran along your heat, feeling the damp material. "god, baby. you're soaked for me, aren't you?"

you whimper against his lips when his fingers press down, finding your clit through your underwear. his strokes are slow, steady as he watches your reactions. your hips shift into his hands, desperate to find relief, making him chuckle against your lips.

"you sound like you need me, my little witch."

you nod your head at his words. "please, nicho. i need you."

his lips found yours one last time before he shifted. his hands pull down your underwear, leaving you bare beneath him. his hands held your legs open for him when you tried to shut them as he stared down at you. "do you know how many times i've dreamed of having you like this? beneath me, screaming my name? you're not leaving this room until the only thing you can think about is me."

he kissed the inside of your thigh as he settled between your legs, getting higher and higher until you could feel his warm breath on your heat. his dark eyes met yours, full of lust, for just a moment before his mouth was finally on you. he let out a groan as soon as he tasted you like he had been waiting forever to do so. you moan out his name, hands tangling in his hair, keeping him close to you.

"fuck, you taste so good." he said, tongue flicking your clit causing you to moan. "you're never getting rid of me."

"my god-" you groan, back leaving the bed as his lips wrap around your clit. his hand held you open for him as his other fingers trailed along your slick, coating his fingers before slipping inside of you. "nicho!"

"that's right, baby. scream my fucking name." he feels you tighten around his fingers, stretching to fit them. "i'm going to ruin you. no one will ever make you feel like this. only me."

his fingers gained pace, moving deep inside of you until you were squirming against his hold. you felt him curl his fingers inside of you right as he started sucking your clit, nearly making you see stars as you cry out his name. his tongue and fingers working in perfect unison, thighs trembling around his head. "look at you. so perfect. so mine."

you felt dizzy, the pleasure of his lips and fingers almost too much for you. you shifted, trying to pull away from him when his hand pushed on your lower stomach. "you're not going anywhere until you come all over my face and fingers. so come on, my good girl. i know you're close."

you almost scream his name as you unravel for him. your thighs tighten around his head, almost cutting off circulation, but he didn't care. he kept moving, licking until you were trembling in his hold. you collapsed back against the bed as nicholas pulled away from you, cleaning his mouth and hand before sliding up your body, trailing kisses along your skin as he went.

"you're unreal, baby." he mumbled against your lips, stopping when you pulled him to you. he groaned as he kissed you with everything he's got. your hands trailed along his shoulders, feeling ever dip and grove of his muscles before stopping at his jeans, almost hesitating. "please tell me you want me too, baby."

"i do." your response was instant, almost pleading. "i want you so bad."

he kissed you before sitting up, resting on his knees as he unbuckled his jeans. he slide out of them with ease before slipping out of his boxers, leaving him bare in front of you. this time he was unhurried, letting your eyes roam every inch of his body as you tried to memorize it. your mouth parted as your eyes landed on his cock, thick and red, begging for release. you sat up just a little, and that sent nicholas moving, kissing you before resting his head against yours.

"i believe i owe you something." you tell him, watching as his brows furrow in confusion. "lay down."

it took him a second to understand you, but he smirked when he did, laying down on the bed before dragging you on top of him. he bites back a groan when he feels you grind down on him. "fuck, baby. i guess i really should thank you for the costume."

"i would take credit, but it wasn't my idea."

"who's was it?" he asked.

"jamie's." you answer. "i was too upset by the fact you didn't like me, so yuma told jamie to pick outfits for you."

he raised a brow. "and how did that work out?"

"considering where i am right now, pretty good." he chuckles at your words. 

"brat." he grumbles, groaning when you grind against him again. this time, you lift your hips up, and he gets the message, sliding into you slowly. "fuck."

his hands grip your waist tightly, holding on while you stretch around him. you whimper at the feeling of him inside of you, moving until there wasn't any space between you two. he fit inside of you perfectly, like he was made for you. 

"you're so perfect." he groaned, trying to be patient as you adjusted to his size.

you rested your hands on his chest as you roll your hips. you started out slow, almost torturously slow as you grind against him. his hands dug into your skin, moving to squeeze your ass before he moves you, helping you speed up. you get the message, speeding up until you were bouncing, moaning his name at the feeling.

"fuck, nicho."

"just like that, my girl." his hips jerked, meeting yours halfway, listening to a moan fall past your lips. "let me hear how much you want me. how much you need me."

he continued his movements, meeting yours with a devastating speed. your head was spinning, only thinking about how good nicholas was making you feel, and why did it take so long for you two to get here. your hips stuttered, lost in pleasure though he could feel your thighs shaking. you threw your head back, feeling your stomach tighten when nicholas bucked up into you. you lot your balance, falling forward onto his chest. his lips latched onto yours, grabbing your hips as he bucked up into you.

"nicho- please." you beg, nails digging into his shoulders.

"i've got you, sweet girl." you cry out when his hand finds your clit, feeling as you tighten around him as he picks up his speed. "fall apart on my cock. show me how bad you need it."

your body went rigid above him, eyes rolling back as you fell apart again. he held you through it, whispering compliments into your ear before rolling over, towering over you once again. he slipped himself back into you, watching as you cry out his name. your legs were jelly, but you were still able to wrap them around nicholas as he thrusted into you. 

"look at you. exhausted but still wanting more." he almost growled against your lips, snapping his hips to yours and watching you fall apart again for him. "what am i going to do with you?"

his lips pushed to yours, drowning out all of your sounds as his hips drive into yours, harder with every passing second. he groaned as he pulled away from you, lips latching to your neck, biting and sucking every inch of skin his lips could reach.

"fuck. are you going to let me make you mine? that way you'll never doubt how much i want you. how much i need you." he panted, thrusts becoming erratic as his high nears. 

you nod your head, desperate for another release. "yes, nicho. please. make me yours."

he moaned into your neck, hips stuttering as you felt him spill inside of you. the feeling made you fall over the edge again, gripping him tightly, a groan falling from his lips at the action. his body collapsed onto yours, sweaty and spent. his breathing hits your neck as he recovers, lips finding yours as soon as he does.

he gets up, sliding off of you before cleaning you up. he pulls back the covers and helps you before getting in next to you, smiling when you cuddle into his warm body. his hand finds your cheek, tilting your head up before kissing you.

"you did so perfect for me, baby." you smile against his lips. "you're so fucking perfect."

"i-" your voice trembles with both need and feelings. he's patient running his hand through your hair as he waits. "i've spent so long wanting this. wanting you. i just never thought you felt the same. and i was too scared to say anything."

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to hear you say that. what it does to me to hear you say that." his voice soft, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i was scared too. i didn't want to mess anything up."

"guess we're both stupid then." nicholas pinches your side at your words, feeling as you jerk in his hold. "that was mean."

"so was making me match with someone else. next halloween, you're matching with me. no more woody and buzz nonsense." you laugh at his words, tilting your head up to look at him.

"okay. but i get to pick out the costumes." he nods his head, kissing your forehead as you lay your head back down.