Something just for me

"You said that twenty minutes ago!” He called out, voice muffled behind his arm, though there was no real irritation in it, rather it was his familiar fondness disguised as annoyance. "Come on! Everyone’s there and probably having fun without me already!”

"You’re so dramatic!” You called out, and he could hear the smile in your voice while another scoff left your room, followed by the sound of drawers shutting.

Taeyang smirked to himself, shaking his head against the couch cushion. His chest felt warm in a comfortable way. Like coming home. This was normal for you both!!!! Bickering and complaining and him pretending to be irritated while still waiting around anyway, because the truth was he'd wait however long you needed.

“I might just leave without you at this rate—“ He groaned, but that was until you walked out and came down the hallway.

Taeyang sat up so fast his phone nearly slid off his lap, catching it at the last second. But he barely registered the movement because his entire focus had narrowed to you standing in the hallway, rummaging through your bag as you made sure you had everything, and his brain — his usually quick, clever brain — genuinely stopped working.

You looked up at him and ouhh… His breath caught somewhere in his throat and refused to move.

Your black skirt hugged your body so carefully it made his mouth go dry. You paired it with a fitted off-shoulder top that exposed an elegant line of your collarbones and the soft skin of your shoulders. Your makeup was subtle and something about your eyes made them impossible to look away from, deeper and more captivating than usual…. but he’s always loved your eyes anyways.

He stared at you, unable to form a single coherent thought. His heart was doing something concerning in his chest, beating too fast and hard, trying to break through his ribs. Heat crawled up the back of his neck, which immediately became a problem when you noticed.

Your expression shifted from confident to uncertain in seconds, and you glanced down at yourself, then back at him.

"…Why are you looking at me like that?"

Taeyang blinked hard, trying to reboot his brain. "Huh?"

Your brows pulled together, and he watched you fidget with the hem of your skirt — a nervous gesture he'd seen a hundred times but never quite like this. "Does it look bad? Should I change—"

“What? No no no—" His answer came out way too fast. His hands fidgeted for a moment. "No, you look—"

He stopped.. Because “pretty” felt too small of a word. It didn't capture the way his chest had tightened the second he saw you, or how he suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe properly, or the way every appropriate thought had evaporated from his mind.

You waited, and he watched something vulnerable flicker across your face.

Taeyang swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"You look really good."

His words came out quieter than he intended, rougher, and he watched your expression soften in response.

"Oh," You said softly, and was it his imagination or did your cheeks flush slightly?

Silence stretched between you for half a second too long, heavy enough he could hear his own pulse in his ears. Then he made the mistake of looking at your outfit again. Specifically the skirt.

How short it was… how it would look when you moved… how every single person at this party would notice you the second you walked in.. and how it would look ripped off of you—

His jaw tightened before he could stop himself, a sharp spike of something possessive lancing through his chest.

"…But .. are you sure you’re comfortable?"

The atmosphere changed instantly, like a record scratch. You straightened slowly, and he watched your face shift from soft to defensive. "Excuse me?"

He shifted on the couch, suddenly unable to be still. Restless energy coursed through him…

“I just mean—" He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands. "You know how crowded these things get."

"And?" Your voice had an edge now.

"People are weird." Even as he said it, he knew how it sounded. Knew he was being irrational. But the image of strangers looking at you, approaching you, and trying to get your attention made something hot and uncomfortable twist in his gut.

A laugh escaped you, sharp with disbelief. "People?"

"Guys," He corrected quickly, unable to stop himself. "Guys are weird."

"And somehow you're not?"

"That's different."

Your eyes narrowed immediately, and he watched you cross your arms—a defensive posture he recognized. "How?"

He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

Because honestly? He didn't know how to explain that the thought of people looking at you tonight already irritated him more than it should. It made no sense for someone who was supposed to be just your friend but bus jealousy sat bitterly.

You stepped closer, and his breath hitched at the decreased distance. He could smell your perfume now .. sweet and warm… And his head fucking spun.

"You're acting strange.” You said, studying his face.

"I'm not."

"You look stressed." Your head tilts, concern bleeding into your expression — and it hits him right in the chest. That simple gesture, those soft eyes, the way you notice him. Months of swallowing this feeling, and now it's clawing up his throat.

"I am stressed."

"Why?"

He lets out a long, rough exhale. But his heart is pounding so hard he's sure you can hear it, feel the vibration in the air between you. His gaze drags over you — slowly, helplessly, hungrily — before he forces it back to your face.

"Because you look like that."

Your expression falters. Lips parting just a fraction. "…Like what?"

"Like I'm two seconds away from grabbing you." His voice is lower now, scrape-thin. "And if I touch you, I’m not gonna stop.”

Your heartbeat skipped — and he saw it. Your breath caught, as your eyes widened just slightly. The room suddenly felt much smaller than before. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes.

He leaned back against the couch like he hadn't just said something capable of ruining your ability to think properly, but his hands gripped the edge of the cushion behind him, knuckles white. His own heart was racing so fast it felt dangerous.

Meanwhile, you were standing there trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck and the way your stomach had dropped and flipped simultaneously, while every nerve in your body suddenly felt too aware of him.

"You're insane.” You muttered, but your voice came out softer and breathier. FUCK. You hated how obvious you were.

A slow grin spread across his face immediately, but it didn't quite reach his eyes — they stayed dark, intense, focused entirely on you.

"Hm. There it is."

"What?" Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.

"That look."

You frowned, trying to regain some composure even as your heart hammered against your ribs. "What look?"

"The one you get when you're flustered."

Your jaw dropped. "I am not flustered."

"Sure." He stood. He was still watching you with a knowing expression, and he could see right through every defense you tried to put up.

Taeyang’s eyes stayed on you the entire time. Tracing your face, the curve of your neck, your taunting legs and how you shifted your weight from foot to foot nervously.

It lingered too long now, loaded with everything neither of you had said. Your stomach fluttered with a thousand butterflies, your skin felt too warm, and you couldn't quite catch your breath properly.

You tried distracting yourself by looking at the kitchen counter in attempts to break whatever spell had fallen over the room.

"Are we leaving or not?" Your voice shook slightly. Embarrassing. Go Home.

But he moved closer. His warmth radiated from his body, his cologne wrapped around you and it made your head spin. Your breath caught embarrassingly fast.

"You know what your problem is?" He asked softly, and his voice had dropped lower and so intimate that it made your knees feel weak.

You blinked up at him, having to tilt your head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "What?"

"You have no idea what you do to people."

The words hit harder than they should have, settling deep in your chest and making it hard to breathe.

"Tae—"

"I'm serious." His voice dropped quieter, as he cut you off. and you watched his throat work as he swallowed. "You walk around acting completely normal while everyone else loses their mind around you."

Your stomach flipped violently, butterflies erupting so intensely you felt dizzy. "Everyone?" The question came out barely above a whisper.

His gaze locked onto yours, so intense it made your breath stop completely. "…Me, especially."

Oh okay.

The air disappeared from your lungs. Your heart stopped, then started again twice as fast. Heat flooded through your entire body.

He looked almost annoyed with himself now, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck — a nervous gesture you'd seen countless times but never quite like this. His jaw was tight and his shoulders were even more tense than before.

"I wasn't gonna say anything," He admitted. "But then you walked out looking like this and now I'm irritated."

You stared at him, trying to process his words through the chaos in your head. Then laughed nervously, the sound shaky. "Because I dressed up?"

"Because every person there is gonna stare at you." His hand dropped from his neck, and he stepped close enough that you had to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. "Because they're all gonna see what I see."

"And?..”

"And I hate it."

The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten painfully. You searched his face carefully, taking in the tension in his jaw. "You sound jealous."

"I am."

Your eyes widened instantly at the confession with no care in the world. God, he was so fucking honest.

"I've been jealous for a while, actually."

Music still played faintly from your abandoned stereo somewhere behind him, but it felt far away now compared to the sound of your heart rate spiking in your ears and the way every cell in your body seemed hyperaware of his proximity didn’t make it any better.

"And you know what's crazy?" He murmured.

"Hm?" You barely managed.

"You still haven't pushed me away."

Your lips parted slightly, and you realized with a start that he was right. He was standing impossibly close, looking at you like he wanted to memorize every reaction on your face, every flutter of your eyelashes, and every catch of your breath.

If anything, you'd leaned closer too. Your body had betrayed you, swaying toward him like he had his own gravitational pull.

“Maybe it’s because I like it when you’re jealous.”

He hummed, smirking down at you now as his eyes did another once over. “Then let me get one thing straight.”

You arched a brow, trying to mask how shaky your legs felt. “Hm?”

“You’re not allowed to leave my side tonight.”

💌 mika’s message! Kenny…. eni…. can u guys hear me???? this one was for u guys. and TRUST. working on part two and u guys WILL bone. ok? LMFAAAO ok sorry bye. if any of u hated this just lmk. Cuz ngl….. ok whatever write it urself.

keeho:

jiung:

perm taglist:

You had been notified that there had been a request from a band to record a videoclip in your building.  What you didn't expect was to have a group of dudes dancing on the firescapes of your apartment the day before an exam.

You tried to be accommodating, after all you had agreed, but after a while of hearing the same song in loop for the last three hours (the ‘ruthless, 하지만 날 보면, I make you wanna bounce, wanna bounce, wanna, loosen up like’ part has been playing in repeat for the past thirty minutes) you had decided you reached your limit.

When, for what must have been the twentieth time, you hear one of the guys run up and down your firescape you decided you needed to put an end to this torture. So, you retie your hair, stretch a little, and head to what would be an incredible uncomfortable conversation. 

You bust open your window, scaring a redhead guy that was just standing there, admiring one of your flower pots. 

“Are you the one that's running up and down?” you ask him, with the friendliest tone you could muster after having your pomodoro session ruined by a wannabe kpop group. 

“That would be him” he answers hurriedly, clearly startled by the sudden intrusion you caused, pointing to a blonde guy standing on the higher part of the stair. 

You turn to look at him, and what a mistake that turned out to be. He was probably the prettiest guy you had ever seen, which is a lot to say considering you had seen a fair amount of 90s rom-coms.

“Can you stop? I’m trying to study here” you ask him, trying to not let his beauty affect your real resolve, which was understanding the final theme of the course before the exam.

“Hard thing you are asking for” he says going down the stairs to your window, grinning as his eyes rake over your figure, or at least the half that's sticking out of your window “Lets make a deal”

“You are already filming on my fire escape, what else do you want?” you deadpan, starting to get annoyed at the situation. For real, logarithms won't understand themselves.

“Let us film a few more takes and we will stop,” he starts, “But…”

“But?” you ask, lowkey nervous by the way he was approaching you, intimidated by his closeness and his teasing smile. 

“Let me take you out for a coffee,” he says, leaning against the side of your window.

“And if I say no?”

“I can run up this stairs up and down all day if you want me to” he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes scanning your face, detouring on your lips “Or until you feel like going out with me” 

“Ah yes, I love when men threaten my study for their personal gain” you joke. 

“I take it as a yes, then?” he asks again, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“If you can finish it in the next twenty minutes, sure. Not a minute more” you bargain, going back inside and closing the window, making sure to put the curtains down, your heart rushing on the prospect of a date with a pretty boy. 

You can hear the rest of the boys teasing the blonde, which you learn his name is jiho by the hoots and hollers of the guys in the next firescape.

You return to your pomodoro set, finally getting back to mathematics and suffering, accompanied by the sound of steps going up and down the fire escape, this time slightly less annoying.  With just six minutes left you get a knock on your window. You head there, finding a sticky note on the glass with a message scribbled over.

“+82 xx xxxx xxxx text me on your next break, you owe me a coffee ;)”