@salchichangbin recommends

he remembers some strangers who manage to leave a lasting impression on his mind and yet he can’t remember the people he passed by on the streets this morning while on his way to work.

yet, his gaze only briefly flickers at your figure passing by his cubicle, your face partly hidden behind the white spots that dance in front of his eyes, and he’s almost certain he knows you. or has seen you before.

he chases your figure as you disappear in the corridor, away from the IT department and he only finds out later that you didn’t even work in the same department. in fact, you had only joined a week prior and from what he can recall, he’s never seen you nor heard of you.

it’s incredibly frustrating and minho finds himself struggling to keep his balance on the thin line separating the vices of recalling and remembering.

he’s caught sight of you since then, and as much as he’s tried to place you in his memory, find a you shaped puzzle hole, it hasn’t been fruitful. occasionally, he would find you in the cafeteria – on days they would serve corn soup – and sometimes by the coffee cart at the intersection minho preferred over the office cuppa when he wanted to get away from the establishment.

it’s three months later, on the second week – minho remembers clearly, your flushed face peeks out from the thick green scarf around your neck – you’re both waiting for the bus home. it’s past seven, way beyond minho’s working hours but he was adamant on using this last week to finish up pending work so he could come back after christmas to a fresh start.

you’ve huddled yourself to a corner of the bench, pressing yourself close to the glass screen while you wait. minho can’t stop his gaze from finding you through the cold air, though nothing stands between you two. should he go up to you?

it startles him when you meet his eyes and he looks away hastily, a sudden warmth crawling up his neck on being caught.

“hello,” you call out and minho whips his head around so fast, he might as well have ended up with a broken neck.

you stare up at him shyly, waiting for a response. in fact you don’t know why you greeted him in the first place, he probably doesn’t even recognise you.

“hi,” he says, and his voice is soft. it makes your chest swell inexplicably, a certain warmth in his hidden kindness you would later find out.

“i’m (y/n), we work in the same company,” you gesture vaguely in the direction of your company. you feel more nonsensical by the moment.

“i’m minho…and i know that.” minho tries to smile and not let on the fact that he was a creep who had indeed noticed you. well, minho wouldn’t like to believe himself to be a creep, but if he had been looking for you unconsciously…that was on his wandering mind.

yet this feeling was…unfathomable. the more he observed you without trying to be a freak, the more he grew attached to the familiarity in your face. it’s when he spots the smallest mole right above your lip – so small that he would have missed it, it’s like he had been searching for it since the beginning – he finds himself suddenly comfortable in your presence.

was this what people called ‘meeting your soulmate’?

minho isn’t sure what it was, he still isn’t, but he can attest to being the happiest when he’s around you. it seemed like you were of the same opinion, kissing him on the cheek three years later before walking off to your respective departments.

the second time, i knew.

you dyed your hair red.

it was bright, almost blinding, and minho’s wash basin was stained with the same dye.

“guess what,” you smile from where you stood, cowering playfully behind the door. red drops of water drip down your short hair andonto your neck, disappearing into the white towel strung across and dissolving into a diluted pool of light pink in the fabric.

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that my partner is now a traffic signal?”

“oh come on!” you thrust your hand out, nuzzling your chin into his chest and looking up at him through wide eyes and an innocent smile. minho loves it when you do that; look up at him like he’s your entire universe. he swallows the smile threatening to burst out of his lips.

“do i look good?”

“are you going to clean up the basin?”

another drop of red slithers down your wet hair and falls on minho’s shirt.

“you don’t like it,” you pout, pushing yourself away from him but he’s quick to pull you into a hug, pressing his chin on top of your wet head. his neck is wet, but he doesn’t care.

“of course i like it.”

“you do?” 

“i do.”

“i think you are very whipped for me.”

minho can feel you smile into his chest. you were so simple, and he was so in love..

“don’t act like you don’t love it.” he seals this moment with a kiss, heart swelling when you smile and pull him closer.

“i love you.”

loving you became so easy, i didn’t realise you wouldn’t love me back every time.

he’s different, you say.

minho begs to differ because you’re always saying that only to end up like he predicted. it’s not like he likes being accurate about it, but who can blame him for not trying to stop you?

in this life, you love people. and you love them so hard, with so much passion, minho finds himself watching quietly and grieving that you would never love him like that. it’s almost cruel, he thinks, but he’s spent so much time with you in love, he never thought that he would have to live through a life where he couldn’t show it.

he watches from the sidelines, waiting to speak up but every time you end up with someone else before he could.

“come on minho, i swear you’ll like hyunjin.”

you‘ve been badgering him for a week to grab dinner with your new boyfriend. mino retorts every time with no motivation to meet someone who would probably end up breaking your heart again, but the voice in his head tells him that it wasn’t the real reason.

he knows hyunjin, they’ve met before. he also knows hyunjin is a good guy. so when he says he doesn’t want to meet him, it’s more for his sake – he wants you to be happy, but he doesn’t want to see you happy with someone who will genuinely love you back.

he’s being selfish, he knows.

“minho, please?” your voice softens, and minho knows that you’re not doing it on purpose like you do when you want him to buy you coffee or order your favourite takeout or watch the same movie for the hundredth time on movie nights. you truly want him to meet hyunjin, maybe even like him; assure you that this was certainly the one.

minho doesn’t want to do either of those but your imploring eyes plead to him silently. he gives in, because it’s so easy to love you.

dinner turns out to be a pleasant affair and hyunjin is anything but the worst of what minho had pictured and manifested. he was a decent human being, enjoyable and certainly kind. and his eyes…they followed you and mimicked your smile lovingly. he knows that look; he’s been in love with you too. he is in love with you.

“listen hyunjin,” minho starts once you’ve left the table to go to the washroom, “i think you’re a great guy.”

“am i going to get the talk now?” hyunjin lets out a nervous laugh.

“no, i’m pretty sure you’re aware of that talk. but i want you to listen to me and listen carefully,” minho breathes in shakily, fisting up his fingers under the table, “(y/n) is my best friend and i love them a lot. i want you to love them wholeheartedly too. they don’t like their coffee too bitter and hate eating peas. they are hard working but tend to neglect their health in lieu, so take care of them, okay? don’t take them to the poppy exhibition during spring, their allergies act up the most during that time, even if they tell you that they can endure it – they can't and end up sniffling all season. they have a green scarf and it’s very dear to them, but it barely does anything when it’s too cold. layer them up in another scarf because they’ll get upset if you tell them to change. never let them order the spiciest thai takeaway, it makes them sick the next day. they love watching howl’s moving castle, it’s their favourite movie – never argue against it because well, there’s a ninety nine percent chance you’ll end up watching it anyway.”

a shuddering breath escapes minho’s lips as hyunjin listens attentively.

“don’t ever hurt them, okay?”

hyunjin nods earnestly, about to reply when you slide into your chair with a smile, looping your arm around hyunjin’s and the boy instantly melts, mirroring your smile. an understanding look passes between minho and hyunjin and the former is assured that he understood.

minho watches later, standing by the restaurant as you and hyunjin walk away into the night.

maybe in his next life, minho thinks, that will be him.

but i’m happy as long as you are.

the screen crackles, freezing for a second on your smiling face and minho frowns.

“hello, minho? can you hear me?” your voice comes on, ringing out pleasantly in his dark room. the city below him glitters with lights, honking cars distorted against the glass windows.

the video unfreezes and you’re there on the other side, grinning widely. it’s infectious and minho forgets about the exhaustion creeping into his bones. the time is 3 am, he should be asleep, he has an early meeting tomorrow, but this is you. and you’re seas apart, so the least he can do is grant you the shitty video call.

“yes, i can hear you. why have you called me at the ass o’clock, you spawn of satan?”

you know you can hear the smile in his voice, if not see him clearly illuminated only by the city lights.

“love you too,” you snort, “but guess what?”

you sound excited, and he can feel himself relaxing at the sight of your big smile and jumpiness. something good must have happened.

“i’m getting married!”

you bring up your left hand and without a doubt, a silver band rests around your ring finger. it glitters when it catches the light from your bedside lamp. your smile is infectious, minho reminds himself as he forces his lips to remain curled up.

“chan proposed this evening and oh my gosh minho, you won’t believe what he did–”

minho doesn’t quite remember much of what you said, only that you looked like you were on the top of the world, you were marrying the love of your life and that minho was invited and you wanted him to officiate the wedding.

minho doesn’t even consider this cruel anymore. the universe could hardly be called that when it treated you so kindly and with so much love.

he officiates the wedding in a field of poppies – a spring wedding – a small number of people gathered to celebrate the occasion and as he watches you walk down the aisle while your cousin plays a beautiful piece on the piano.

hand in hand with your husband, beautiful and glowing and so happy that he feels like he’s drowning in soft puffs of cloud at the look of joy on your face, he sends a silent thanks to the universe.

because i’m glad you’re here, by my side, through thick and thin.

"minho," you groan, dragging yourself across the rubble to where he lay on the ground, sprawled across rocks and ashes with his head resting against a decapitated shield.

"minho," you're barely able to keep yourself alive as you call out to the man, "wake up, love."

your whisper falls like the ashes you were sparales across, clothes singed and tattered, face bleeding and limbs tired.

the grey dust carries your whisper across him, his eyes cracking open to a white sky and your beautiful face.

your lips crack and bleed when you smile at him, eyes tearing up when they find his.

"are you okay?" minho croaks through the dust in his throat.

you nod weakly, breath faltering when the pain in your chest pricks you like needles.

"you did a great job." you say quietly.

around you, people started waking up, the ones that were left behind at least, by mercy or by luck or sheer willpower. the war was over. the will to cheer out is quietened by silent mourning.

minho feels you quiver by his side and pulls you closer weakly. your head rests against his arm, dreary and tired.

your hands are rough across his cheeks, colder by the second but comforting all the same.

"i'm so glad," he whispers. he doesn't mention your bleeding head or your heaving chest. he lets your warm tears fall on his skin, washing away the dust and grime and missing with your blood that drips down your head. your breath falters again, his weak limbs clutch you with his leftover strength.

you press your chapped lips against his neck.

"i love you."

minho's gentle confession receives no response.

i appreciate it a bit more, your quiet presence and comforting hands.

"minho, relax, i'm almost at your apartment so open the door for me, yeah?"

minho woke up in the middle of the night gasping for air. he had a terrible dream and you died in it. he scrambles across his bed, cursing the low battery in his phone and calling you first thing, the 8% of his battery be damned.

now you're saying that you're almost at his apartment. which means you crossed a whole two blocks in the middle of the night just because he called you in a frenzied panic. it’s too late to slip on his shoes and rush out of his house, because he’s extremely scared something bad might happen to you – he knows it’s his past life, and yet he cannot ignore the way it feels like a premonition – because you’re already ringing his doorbell.

the door opens with such abruptness, it makes you jump out of your skin but you don’t waste time in pulling minho into a hug when he stares at you with teary eyes. he’s never been this vulnerable before and you’ve never seen him so distraught.

he melts into your arms the second you hold him, as if checking to ensure that you were legit. that you were here, alive.

and if he tells you that he loves you late into the night while you sit by his side, running your fingers through his hair to help him fall asleep, he’s not lying and he means it from the very bottom of his heart.

“i feel like this was a ruse to get me here,” you chuckle sleepily, eyes fluttering and fingers slowing their pace against his hair.

minho simply gazes at you quietly in the dark, his throat seizing up when your fingers trace against his cheeks and rest there. your hands are warm, not cold. you were here.

“you’re being serious.” you remark, “is it because of the nightmare? you know i won’t leave you right?”

it wasn’t a nightmare, it was real. but how does minho tell you that? so he nods, because he does love you.

you kiss the corner of his mouth. his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and his head.

“i love you too, minho. a lot.”

your lips on his lips, your warm hands across his tear stained cheeks. your heart beating against his chest.

but i hold you still, close to my heart, even when you’re not here.

minho looks for a familiar face through the blur of faces.

he searches for you for years till his last breath. but he accepts this time, that you would only reside in the deep crevices of his heart where he would etch your memories and learn to live without your presence.

he’ll learn to live without you.

and sometimes we’ll miss each other by a year.

high school, the most important time in a student’s life.

minho did not expect much to change from last year, he’s always been on the grind and stuck to his college preparations religiously. but something about the way all his relatives and friends kept reminding him of the importance of doing it right or losing in life, had him worrying in anxiety.

“if i don’t get into a university in seoul, my parents are gonna kill me,” jisung sighs beside him, doodling on his maths workbook.

minho hums, solving the equations unlike his deskmate who seemed least concerned about his self proclaimed threats.

“dude, are you seriously studying on the first day of school? lame…”

minho doesn’t pay attention, not now when he’s adamant on ignoring the label of being a nerd for the sake of a better future. he’ll find out later, when him and jisung get into the same university in seoul, that he didn’t need to try so hard all the time and that he deserved a break too.

jisung leaves during lunch, skipping to the cafeteria, complaining about how chemistry seemingly sucked the soul out of him. minho hangs back to go through his notes one last time and pack away his belongings.

he notices the scratchy lines on the wooden desk, it’s previous owner’s initials carved into it.

‘L/N Y/N, you can do it!’

minho runs a finger over the name, his heart suddenly hollow.

jisung hollers from the hallway and minho leaves for lunch.

later, he’ll have scratched his name under yours and added:

“hope you made it”.

there will be times i need to watch you from afar, but knowing you’re here makes me feel safe.

you play so beautifully, stringing your bow with such emotion, minho feels himself tear up.

the auditorium is quiet, holding their collective breaths as you reach the final part and remain still till the last tunes of the strings fades away.

minho claps along with everyone as you wave to the audience. the bouquet of flowers in your hands, you bow thankfully, retrieving your violin and leaving the stage. the smattering applause doesn’t cease till the announcer comes up.

minho follows you along the stage, gracefully making your way behind the wings before disappearing. you’re so far away. minho was but a simple commoner, lost in a faceless crowd for you.

he takes his time walking through the crowd that dissipates after the performance,the last one to hang back and read the brochures for next week’s performances. he’s so engrossed in reading the brochure, sitting on one of the benches in the lobby, he doesn’t notice you until a multiple bouquets of flowers quite literally drops onto his lap.

startled, his eyes flick up and you’re right there, standing in front of him, apologising as you make to retrieve the flowers.

“i’m so sorry,” you say, clearly struggling to hold your bag and violin case and balance the bouquet in your arms all at the same time. your black outfit glitters like diamonds up close, and if that doesn’t put minho in a daze, your tired smile turned upon him does.

“oh that’s a good performance,” you state, pointing at the brochure in his hands as you bend to pick up your flowers. as if only coming to senses when you’re on the ground, does minho scramble to help you out, his cheeks flushing.

you’ve always been pretty, but it’s been so long since he’s seen you so up close. you smile and he’s suddenly awestruck.

“you should watch the show on thursday,” you state, finally collecting everything in your hands in a bundle. minho hands you the last flower and your fingers brush.

“i will,” he promises, “and…i loved your performance tonight.”

you chuckle abashedly, hiding a shy grin behind your hand.

“thank you,” you mumble and minho bites his lips, swallowing the smile of adoration.

you pick out a rose from the bouquet with some difficulty, handing it out to him.

“thank you for coming tonight,” your shy smile is endearing itself, but so are your cheeks flushing when he accepts the rose. your fingers brush again, and maybe minho lingers for a second longer than he should. than he could.

minho keeps the dried petals of the rose inside an old journal.

but it’s always better when we’re together, because with you i'm fearless.

“left wing’s armed, take the third right straight down the hall and go into the utility room.”

the earpiece crackles inside minho’s ears, your instructions clear and brisk, a last moment unfortunate encounter you were saving his ass from. for better measure, he cocks his guns and keeps it ready just in case as he hurries down the hall and promptly shuts himself inside the utility room.

digging through a pile of janitor’s clothes, minho strips down and starts changin, your voice clear in his ear when you speak again.

“wait there, there’s three men with guns headed down all three halls. do not expose yourself,” you warn, predictably accurate as minho scoffs.

“min,” you growl into your mic, assessing the situation through the hacked cctvs, “don’t you dare come out of that damn room until i tell you to.”

“i’ve got a flight to catch babe, can’t have three nutjobs delaying me.”

“i’m catching the same flight as you!” your retort is an angry outburst. you’re honestly sick of him disobeying your instructions and doing whatever he likes. you’re both supposed to be a team, but he’s more intent on being a brat.

“you can’t get delayed either then,” he says, and the last he allows you to say on that matter, because next thing you know, he’s out of the room in some janitor clothes and a huge trolley. the man with the gun is suspicious, you can tell, approaching minho doubtfully and you hold your breath as you watch quietly, almost as if he would be caught if you inhaled too loudly.

as if on cue, yells break out and minho charges towards the man, ramming his trolley into him and sending him flying. the gun misfires and almost misses minho.

“fuck!” you hiss loudly, on the edge of your seat. there’s nothing you can do from here.

“have i ever told you,” minho struggles with a faltering breath as he tackles another man onto the ground, “how hot you sound when you curse like that?”

the third man doesn’t take too long to go down, giving minho a bit of a hard time too as he does, and you’re secretly happy that he did. serves him right, that brat.

fifteen minutes later, you’re both speeding towards the airport, minho changing in the back of the rundown van which you were going to abandon before leaving while you drove, stubborn on ignoring minho’s attempts at apologising.

“come on, don’t be mad. here, i got you a present,” he says.

you ignore him yet again, but find it hard to turn a blind eye at whatever it was he was shoving right under your nose. glancing briefly, you find a sparkling ring in the palm of his hand.

you silently contemplate whether you should accept it.

“come on,” minho whines again, pulling your left hand away from the steering wheel at the next red light and promptly slipping on the ring on your ring finger. it sits snugly around your skin, a small ruby carved like a rose glittering when it catches light.

before the light can turn green again, minho holds your palm up to his mouth and kisses it gently. his lips burn on your skin like a searing scar and you struggle to keep the heat from crawling up your neck.

“that looks nice on you,” he says and you quietly accept it.

i know loving you is easy, but it still scares me sometimes.

minho knows you can find someone better than him.

he knows you can drop him whenever you want. his love comes easily, but he’s had his share of losing and letting go. it’s tamed the ferocity of his affection, his quiet longing is like a suffering under his hidden vulnerability.

he hates it when you’re upset at him. and you’re upset at him now, shutting yourself in your room to work; not eating, not talking, not even responding to him.

“(y/n), please talk to me.”

you’ve finally come out of your room after hours and minho has been waiting patiently but anxiously, pondering and rehearsing on what to say. except, when he sees you, all his words disappear like ashes in the wind, leaving him remorseful and regretting what had transpired.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks out, head bowing down shamefully, “i shouldn’t have made you feel that way.”

your forgiveness is, if anything, like fuel to the fire burning inside him. you shouldn't forgive him so easily! but you do, and minho is certain that his fear will engulf him in its flames.

except, he hears your voice, clear and calming through the inferno, a cool balm across his searing chest.

“i’m sorry too,” you whisper, hands cradling his face as you pull him close, “i know it’s hard for you, i promise, i love you. no matter what.”

your words are like a soft breeze, pleasant and tranquil. your lips mold against his and he finds himself giving in to you – to your bodies melting into each other and breaths tangling like butterflies swirling around in a whirlwind.

minho learns yet again, to love and to let it burn him. he didn’t mind the flames licking his cheeks or singing his skin, you would be there at the end of the day to hold him close and heal his wounds.

with you the pain of trying was worth it.

because there are times that love can hurt.

minho points his gun at your head.

you’re tired, watching him through your hood but you’re smiling through your bloodied lips.

“are you really doing to do that?”

no. minho won’t, he can’t.

‘you already know,” he seethes through gritted teeth, tightening his hold around the gun.

“your answer, or you?”

you set flame through his body and it seeps through his veins like melting lava. loving you can sometimes really hurt, especially when he’s holding your life in his hands. he wonders whether it was worth the trouble of remembering all his past lives.

the clouds rumble and the skies start crying. he burns brighter, hotter; engulfed in your eyes, torn between a past lover and present murderer. your eyes…they’re always the same. the mole on above your lip, you have it this time. he tries searching for the coy person inside you, but you’re broke. battered and cold, you don’t have love for him in you.

not in this lifetime, at least. maybe that will make it easier.

the gun shoots with a bang.

and i’m reminded of my mistakes once more.

the tattoo parlour is quiet in the summer afternoon.

changbin is resting in the back, getting a good hour’s nap while minho waits for his next client who’s due any moment now. the table fan whirs noisily.

the door opens with a small creak and before minho can even turn around, he knows. his gut twists. sure enough, you’re standing there with uncertainty plastered over your face, as if you were having second thoughts about this.

minho doesn’t remember as much this time around, but he knows, there’s an inkling of recollection. of a rainy day and cold eyes.

“hi, you must be (l/n) (y/n),” he states with a comfortable smile, the one that is supposed to ease first timers who stand there in doubt, “i’m lee minho, we talked on the phone.”

he stretches his hand forward and you take it shyly. your fingers are nimble, fitting in his so well, he almost doesn’t want to let go. he can’t remember.

“hi, i’m here for my appointment?” you squeak out and minho does his best not to smile. he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

“of course, i have a few designs according to your choice, why don’t we sit and discuss?”

talking to you was easy. you knew what you wanted and had worked out all the tiny details to some extent as you could. but then again, talking to you had always been easy.

“where do you want to get it?” minho asks, finalising a few sketches and stacking them away in a separate pile.

chewing your lips, you slightly lift your shirt. the faintest blue - almost greyish - birthmark right above your abdomen peeks out. minho’s eyes scan your skin, to where you point right below it over the side of your waist.

he nods, fingers shaking as he collects the designs and walks over to the counter. the fan whirs loudly.

minho remembers. 

but you always forgive me. you say it’s because you love me.

“(y/n)....i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

the car reeks of oil and gas. minho’s cheek stings with millions of shattered glass pressing against his skin like tiny kisses. your eyes are closed, head rolled forward.

“(y/n) please,” minho’s voice cracks and he’s not sure whether he’s crying because of the pain or because you won’t answer him, “look at me.”

his plea falls on unconscious ears. you don’t even stir, laying with your eyes shut tight and glass in your hair.

the world goes black and then it returns, sirens and wails piercing through his ears like an incessant buzz. where are you?

you’re lying beside him, your eyes cracked open while you stare at him. the oxygen mask on your face fogs up slowly, your lips mouthing at him.

“It’s okay…i love you.”

minho tries reaching out but his hands refuse to move. he’s on the ground, he’s hurt, he’s bleeding. he’s crying, but not because it hurts, not because the scars and wounds across his body threaten to tear him apart.

“don’t leave, please.”

your oxygen mask stops fogging up.

as if you sense i’m being too hard on myself.

“minho, just ten more minutes,” you pout at him, folding your hands in a plea.

“no, your father wants you home back by–”

“oh boo hoo, my father doesn’t even care what i do,” you scowl, crossing your arms across your chest now. the low cut of your outfit reveals a spot of skin and minho has to look away. he’s better this time, concealing his feelings and emotions.

“you know i can’t disobey–”

“i just want to have fun, it’s like i have any friends to spend time with.”

minho sighs, straightening his crisp black suit and regarding you with indifferent eyes, but deep down, minho understands that all you craved in this life was companionship. he doesn’t like your father anyway, but he like you. he cares for you, and he doesn’t want to see you upset. but he also doesn’t want you to get hurt.

“ten more minutes,” he says, putting his palm up when your lips morph into a wide grin, “but no drinking.”

he’s stern but you nod eagerly anyway, looping your arm through his and pulling him inside the club. he will probably let you drink anyway, or you’ll sneak some when he’s momentarily distracted (he’s not, he just lets you have your way sometimes under the pretence of not noticing.) and he’ll have to carry you back to your room and maybe get an earful tomorrow morning for your drunk state.

whatever, as long as you’re happy.

“you know, minho?” you slur through the ride back home, nuzzling into his side drowsily, “you should take it easy sometimes. life’s too short to not have fun.”

you have no idea.

“and besides, i like you more this way.”

minho doesn’t answer, calming the thudding against his ribcage as he hold you close and covers you up with his blazer.

it’s all worth it when you kiss his cheek lazily, a murmured goodnight falling off your soft lips and onto his skin like a tiny part of your heart.

and even though i know i’ll find you each time, i still wonder if you’ll find me first this time.

“mr. lee minho sir!”

the voice gets carried away the large lobby, people turning to stare at you as you stand behind the automated entrance barrier, waving your arms at the said man to gain his attention.

minho looks back in shock, momentarily forgetting about the call he was on as he regards you through wide eyes.

you’re grinning and calling out his name, the zip of your handbag open and your contents falling out, but you stumble to grab them messily before stuffing them inside unceremoniously, much more important stuff at hand.

“mr. lee, please, give me ten minutes, i promise i’ve got an amazing proposition,” you say, dodging the security guards who try to pull you away. people stare and murmur in shock, you were making quite a scene.

you look a bit clumsy, but you’re light on your feet. and you definitely don’t seem to care about what people thought of you.

“what’s going on?” he asks his secretary by his side, both walking towards you.

“that’s (l/n) (y/n), they’ve been trying to get an appointment with the PR team for ages now. apparently they're the founder of some small company looking for finances.”

“and why have they not gotten an appointment yet?”

his secretary doesn’t know how to answer, blinking at him in confusion. why would a million dollar company like his waste their time on a nobody like you?

minho disregards the obviousness on his secretary’s face, approaching you with a warm smile.

“i believe you called me?” he asks warmly. the silent whispering thickens.

“i did, sir….lee minho sir. i mean–”

“why don’t we take this to my office?”

you squawk in surprise and minho offers you another smile. it’s familiar to you, his warmth and kindness, and you immediately feel guilty for causing a ruckus. but minho doesn’t treat you any differently, doesn’t mock your business nor finances. he doesn’t look down on you, and yet, there’s something underneath all that kindness that feels like he owes it you, so much so, that he may as well have been in debt to you and was now paying you back however he could and you wanted.

months later, you’d be lying on your bed, your legs tangled together and faces close and he would tell you the reason.

“it’s because you found me first.”

if you’ll be happy without me.

the train windows are foggy, the city lights a distorted kaleidoscope of red and yellow blending into each other.

minho blows warm air into his scarf, tucked right up to his chin and rubs his hands together before stuffing them inside his woollen coat. the train rattles on through the cold night, the gentle to and fro almost lulling him into sleep.

his body shifts to his left when the train stops at the third to the last station and minho lets out a sign between the satisfaction of knowing that he’ll soon be home and the disgruntled realisation that he would have to walk for ten minutes to do that. at least, he’s closer to the warmth of his home now.

the doors open with a swish, cold air blowing in and minho huddles against the corner seat, pulling his legs closer and almost doubling on himself. twenty minutes more, and he’ll be in the comfort of his home and his cats.

from his peripheral, he notices someone taking a seat beside him. the end of their long scarf gently touches minho’s arm under his thick coat. they cough into their hand and sniffle, clearly shivering from what he could tell by the way they draw into themselves, shuddering.

the train moves again, overhead lights dim enough that they were easy on the eyes but not too dark either. a long stretch of tunnel comes into view and the lights outside disappear, a black canvas staring minho back in his face. he catches sight of his neighbour, breath hitching in his throat when the warmth of their presence suddenly seems to heat him up.

he feels like a high schooler again, flustered when his crush sits beside him.

your face is gaunt in the black mirror, eyes drooping like you were fighting sleep and head gently lolling about. it doesn’t even take long before he feels your head on his shoulder. he stiffens, holding his breath in case you wake up, fingers curling inside his pocket and heart beating steadily against his chest.

even now, he thinks, even now, you make him feel this way. and you were simply a stranger to him in this life.

the train jolts again, the lights outside merging out of the black fog and staining the misty glass. your head on his shoulder, the fragrance of your shampoo lingering under his nose and the tingling sensation on his arm where your scarf lay gently. when the cold wind blows in, you move closer to him, soft snores tumbling through your lips and falling on his coat like a memento of your existence.

only one stop left, he gets to spend five more minutes with you. the warmth of his home is alluring but so is your sleeping figure next to him.

he wishes this train would go on forever. 

but i always end up wishing that we would be together this time around too. 

“i love you!”

“minho, we can’t!”

“what does status matter in front of love?”

“you know well enough exactly how much it matters,” you sigh, sliping your hands through his placatingly, softening your tone, “it won’t work. you’re from a noble family, and i’m just…plain old me.”

“you know i don’t care about that stuff.” he brings your hands up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles gently, his pillowy lips searing your skin like fire.

“they won’t care about banishing you from the court either if they find out.”

minho is so close to you, he can feel your breath on his lips. he’s kissed you so many times now, felt those lips against his and across his skin countless times, but every moment he spends with you, it’s like he cannot get enough of you.

“what if we run away? from these people, these…expectations and restrictions.”

“min…”

his name on your tongue, it sits there like it was always supposed to.

“you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

sometimes you can, but minho always chooses to fall in love with you. he doesn’t have to try hard; he’s never fallen out of it in the first place.

call me selfish, but there’s so much i need to tell you. show you. so many ways to love you.

the soft tunes of the jazz band floats in the air, men and women in silk and satin, dancing with each other through the cheerful night.

minho holds you in his arms, pressing quiet kisses in the crook of your neck and you giggle, swaying along with him on the dance floor. the night is still young for the two lovers and music quite a ways before it stops.

“wouldn’t have taken you to be the romantic type,” you say, looping your hands around his neck.

“wouldn’t have expected to be dragged to the dance floor so early,” minho teases back, pulling you just a little closer.

but minho would be willing to do so much for you. he would read it all in your eyes and from its depths, draw out his heart and carve it whichever way you wanted him to.

“i thought you wanted to dance!” you hit him  lightly on his shoulder, pouting at his smirk.

“i only accepted because the bartender was eyeing you,” he gestured behind him, tilting his head slightly so you could see. and sure enough, the bartender was indeed looking in your direction.

“oh, do i sense some jealousy?”

“don’t i have the right to feel that way?”

he twirls you to a lazy tune from the saxophone, only to pull you close when he realised that even the miniscule absence of your presence did not suit him. maybe he was drunk, he could definitely feel the burn in his throat and the liquid courage pulsing through his brain and you were so very beautiful.

the fabric of your dress under his fingers was soft, your rose painted lips puckering up ever so slightly and your tinted cheeks glowing warm under the dim golden lights. and your eyes; it’s always your eyes.

minho always searches your eyes everytime, to gauge whether much had changed but save for a few unfortunate lives, they remain pristine and eternal. yet, they seem to speak to him with a teasing lilt in somes life and in others, they’re like stars twinkling back his reflection.

minho doesn’t want to believe he is the romantic type, but he admits, he would always be willing to lose himself in your eyes.

even with all my lives combined, i wouldn’t be able to do it all.

undoubtedly, minho has learnt various ways of loving you throughout all his lives, and unsuspectingly, he expects to learn many more.

but his favorites persist to be the little undocumented moments only shared between you two; hidden in a small room where nobody is privy to it.

when you amble into the kitchen wearing nothing but his hoodie – which was too big on himself too – your thighs exposed and your fingers rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, his world stops for a whole minute.

you don’t take notice of his naer breathlessness, trodding up to him and planting your face in his chest. in this life, minho is a bit distant. his ability to express himself hidden in small acts of services. in this life minho worships you differently, and your reciprocal puts his anxiousness to rest.

“i cooked your favourite,” he mumbles on the top of your head and you nod into his chest, slowly backing him into a corner.

“you’re my favourite,” you smile slyly, revelling in the way his cheeks heat up and his gaze averts. you press a finger under his chin and turn his head towards you. your eyes…oh.

he feels your lips against his, your nibbling teeth and your wandering hands.

in this life, your love is passionate, a little fervent. you love so shamelessly and its fire consumes him whole till he’s right in the middle of a burning pyre. you burn brighter than him now and his love shines brighter under your flames, but minho merely considers himself the moon, silently borrowing the light from the faraway stars you carefully sew into his heart.

it’s like the universe is always balancing you both out, apologising for the times it messes up your time together.

all i know, is that i’ll surrender to you. everytime, unrestrained, with all my sincerity – because there’s no one else but you.

there’s a soft knock at the door.

“minho,” your voice is veiled and hesitant, “it’s me. can i come in?”

minho can’t bring himself to answer, but he hears the handle being twisted and seconds later a sliver of light slithers down the dark floor of his room. you find him sitting on his bead, with his head between his arms, knees tucked and unmoving.

“he’s been like this all day,” chan whispers beside you, the look of concern on his face breaking your heart, “please, help him.”

shutting the door behind you, you slowly manoeuvre your way to the bed, reaching out with your hands to feel for the soft sheets. eyes growing accustomed to the dark, you can vaguely make out his figure, scooching closer to his side.

“want a hug?” you whisper, scared to break the tranquillity and scare him away.

his response is throwing himself in your arms and clutching your waist like a child. soft sniffles get buried in your shirt and his shuddering shoulders send a wave of tears through you. the silence is broken by his sobs that shatter you and make your chest twist into knots. 

you fall asleep with his head buried in your chest and your warmth around his body.

even in a thousand lives. i’ll always be yours.

minho has assured you a hundred times in a hundred ways, that you’ll never be a burden to him.

not even when you spend half your life in a hospital bed, barely capable of doing anything by yourself. even when you cry and pretend to be mad at him, even when you yell at him to leave you and get his own life. even if he has to dedicate himself to take care of you.

you will never be a burden, not when minho was persistent on being by your side willingly.

“how long will you stay here?”

“for as long as it takes you to fall asleep,” he says, wiping your hands with a wet towel. your fingers twitch in his palm, weak and frail but so comforting in his gentle hold. you wish you could ask him to stay, but how can you chain him down to your crippled self? and for how long before he realises that this was a lost cause; that you were a lost cause and all his time and efforts were going to waste cooped up in this tiny hospital room where nothing ever happened.

“you know what i mean…”

your voice is soft in the night, eyes teary as they gaze at his face illuminated by the bed lamp he gifted you for your birthday.

minho doesn’t answer, concentrating at the task at hand. he knows you’re crying, and while any other time he would gather you in his arms and wipe your tears, he can’t right now. he can’t see you cry right now, because he’s scared he’ll really leave if you ask him to looking like that.

“we don’t know what the future holds,” his fingers close upon your smaller hands, squeezing them gently, “i want to stay here for as long as i can.”

his eyes glaze over and you slowly lose the fight in you, letting him cradle your soul and carry it with him. if that’s what he wants, 

months later you’ll walk out of the hospital, the staff congratulating you and handing you flowers and you’ll smile at them, but you’ll smile the brightest when you spot minho waiting for you at the end of the hall, cheeks shining with his tears but his lips curled up, mirroring your smile.

you’ll take your first steps all by yourself in years, it will tire you but minho will be waiting. he’ll always be waiting and when you reach out to him, he’ll reach back and let you fall into his arms.

i’ll chase your memory from dawn till dusk.

a block of light plasters the wall and falls on the table.

the last rays of the waning sun trying its best to peek at your beauty one last time before setting – that’s what minho thinks it is.

you say something, smiling through your words and sipping on your drink through puckered lips and then laugh at what you say. minho realises he’s not even listening, but he can hear your voice. he somehow feels like this may be the last time he remembers.

he drinks in your face, but there’s no hurry. you’re sitting right there, munching on your food and talking animatedly, face painted with sliced sunlight, orange and warm on your skin, eyes glowing when it catches the light.

the ketchup stain above your lip doesn’t bother you, but minho smiles fondly as you continue, laughing uncontrollably now over some lame joke he assumes would be funny if he actually listened.

leaning forward, he wipes your mouth, your eyes widening at the act, but they immediately soften and lean towards him too.

then it’s quiet, only the silenced chatter of the people around you. it’s like you’re both trying to etch this moment in your memories, like this was going to be your last time together.

and when there’s nothing left to be done anymore, i’ll sleep with you under the stars. 

the band of silver glimmers on his finger when minho stretches his hand out toward the sun.

the grass is dry and tickles his ears whenever he shifts about, the wind ruffles his clothes like butterflies. minho basks in the late afternoon sun, shutting his eyes and breathing in the sweetness of the honeysuckle air.

beside him, the arrangement of flowers lay carefully over the smoothened stone.

the first few stars appear like newborn dots of light, shining weakly in the orange sky slowly bleeding into purple and blue.

he smiles happily, the tears long appeased by your memories in his heart. the scent of poppies lingers somewhere in the back of his mind, your smile like a ray of hope on days he can’t find you, a piece of your soul in the crevices of his bone like a single entity of his own self.

Only Jisung’s big boba eyes blinked repeatedly as he sniffed, not because he was crying, but because the poor little thing couldn’t even smell anything. He kept the half down of his face under the blankets of his bed, as he surely knew he was blushing due to you being in his room.

He hadn’t been expecting you, and he wanted to groan and put on a tantrum —or however you use that word in a sentence— because you had to be there at that moment.

“Aw, Sunggie,” you melted at the sight of him, holding back the need to coo and pet him and treat him the small and cute hamster he so was. “Lix called,” you clarified with a toothy grin. “He said you were sick, and buzzed me in before he left.”

Jisung made a note to himself to remember to tickle Felix to death for that.

There was one thing he wanted, and while it was you the one who could give it to him, he felt quite shy from asking, as far as refraining from doing so just yet.

Because it was not like you two were dating officially. Yes, the big, fat crush he had on you was as obvious as shit, to put it in elegant words, but he hadn’t asked you yet.

He was going to ask you, but he got sick.

And that one thing he wanted from you was your sweet pouty lips peppering kisses all over his face.

You sat next to him, and sheepishly shook your head. “Let me tidy up this place for you and bring you some medicine and more tissues, yeah?”

Your voice felt soothing, he wanted to use it as a blanket and stay wrapped in it for the rest of the week.

His heart sent more blood to his cheeks. As if there wasn’t enough, he thought with a huff, big eyes watching your movements as you picked a plate that had been left there since the night before and started picking up the used tissues from the floor.

“…hi…” Jisung mumbled, his voice hoarse and his throat dry.

Was he sick? Sure. I mean, his head hurt, his eyelids felt heavy, his nose was runny and he had surely filled the floor of his room and a decent part of his bed with used tissues.

But despite all that, the thing he wanted the most was to cuddle you to his hearts content.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you snickered softly, and he couldn’t help but smile with you. “Want some water too?”

He coughed in response, and you giggled. He cracked his knuckles underneath the bed sheet, his hands tingling, wanting to take you by your shoulders and hug you like a boa constrictor.

“Guess we have to cancel for tonight,” you mumbled with a small smile, your hand tenderly stroking his hair away from his forehead. “I’ll go leave my coat and bag in the living room and I’ll come back, yeah?”

He pouted without realizing. “Mmhhh…” he hummed with a small frown, almost like a whine.

You were about to mumble a soft ‘what’s wrong?’ before he shoved the covers away from his face as he gingerly raised his hand to grab your wrist and settled your palm back on his forehead. He sighed in small relief, melting into the coldness that lingered in you from being outside.

“Headache?” You said almost in a whisper, hearing the butterflies’ wings going crazy in your stomach.

He nodded. If he had been a cat, he would be purring, even if your hand had already turned warm against his skin.

“C’mon, Jisung-a,” your voice felt even softer than before. “I’ll come back before you know it.”

He sniffed. “…you will…?”

Your heart crushed, unable to handle how cute Han looked. It was too much, so much that even the butterflies in your stomach started to have their own butterflies in their stomachs.

And with a smile, you moved your hand to his cheek and planted a shy tender kiss on his forehead.

“I will. Pinky promise.” You chuckled softly, a blush slowly creeping up to your cheeks.

His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.

Oh, no. Now he knew what one of your small kisses felt like.

Now you couldn’t leave. Not before… oh.

He grinned slyly, making you raise your eyebrows, wondering what could he be thinking in that cute little head of his.

“…we’ll… make a deal…” he stated as firmly as he could.

You shrugged lightly, secretly enjoying the faint pink hue of your lipstick that had stained his forehead.

“Sure, Hannie.” Your smile only made the fact that you’d leave for, like, ten minutes —or God, maybe even more— feel a lot worse.

“I… want… more of those…” he blushed deeply.

“More of those?”

He took your hand and covered his eyes with it.

“I want more kisses.” He sniffed again.

Your mouth quickly formed the shape of an ‘o’, as your blush quickly turned a deeper shade of red, as if to compete against his.

You giggled, moving your hand from his face.

“You want my kisses, jagi?” You teased with a smirk.

He felt his heart going crazy in him, a tight feeling in his chest that turned his ears red.

“Aww, but aren’t you too sick for that?”

Oh, no.

You weren’t just going to give him a small kiss and then not continue all morning and all evening… right?

That couldn’t be allowed. Was it? He tsked at the thought. He had to make sure it wasn’t.

He coughed, pouting.

“No.” He coughed again. “Me. Kisses.” He sniffed. “Now.”

You laughed loudly, a sort of laugh that went right in Han’s little heart and filled it up with energy. He didn’t feel that gloomy sensation that being sick could cast over someone.

Instead, he squinted at you playfully.

“You have ten minutes, missy.” He said, already looking much better, emotionally wise at least. “Or else.”

You giggled, sheepishly pecking the corner of his lips.

"You can set up a timer, you cheeky idiot."

He moved his hand to his heart in an overly dramatic gesture that made you cackle, as he chuckled too, trying to ignore how fast his heartbeat felt under his hand.

Nine minutes and forty three seconds later —forty four, forty five...— you had settled a plastic bag next to his nightstand, had stolen a tissue box from the living room, and right now, you were smiling, walking one step in front of the other, carefully so to not spill over the soup you had made for him.

"It's amazing. You have to try it, I've outdone myself." You chuckled as he sat up on his bed, gingerly waiting. You left the tray on his crossed legs, moving his desk chair and nonchalantly taking a seat close to him.

"C'mon." You snickered. "Eat up." He finished it without a single complaint.

"Good boy." You teased, cackling loudly when you saw him blush.

"That's not fair," he mumbled with a pout.

"Scooch aside, Mr fairness."

You moved the pillows and laid next to him, shyly putting your arm below his neck, and then passed the other over his chest.

His face was practically in front of you.

"Hi." You grinned cheekily.

"...oh, h-hi." You giggled at his shyness. You hid the fact that you had reapplied your lipstick in the kitchen before bringing the soup, and started peppering soft kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, the corner of his mouth...

Oh, you were surely going to catch whatever he had.

[☆★🧣★☆]

Like most vampires, Jisung longed to find his mate. Unlike most, he didn’t bother searching. Instead, he sat and waited, the logic being that if both of you were searching then you’d be chasing each other in circles, it was better to stay put. And hell– it worked.

The day you found him was like his heart was beating for the first time in forever. Jisung wished it could’ve been under better circumstances, meaning he wished he wasn’t hunched over like an animal and covered in blood. It wasn’t even the good kind of blood, that of an alcoholic he found passed out behind a bar. The ring on the man’s finger told him everything he needed to know and decided that this would be dinner. 

Jisung could smell you before he could see you, your scent alone making him pull away from his meal to see the figure standing at the end of the alley– the light at the end of his cold, dark tunnel. Your hand was on your hip and a tilt of your head, already preparing to start scolding him on his eating habits. The thud of the drained body onto the pavement, less than a second to stand in front of you, the putrid stench of the tainted blood across his lips mixed with his saliva, you were sold.

“You’re making a mess,” you had told him, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on the corners of your lips.

“Then help me clean it up.” He’d thought it was charming at the time.

“Do I look like your maid?” You’d said as you raised your hand to his cheek, barely grazing his skin and his head leaning into it. The blood smelled nowhere near appetizing, sort of revolting, but you pressed your thumb to his bottom lip anyways, collecting some before gently pushing it forward without any necessary force. Jisung had let you in with no fight and fought the urge to moan at the weight of your finger on his tongue.

When you pulled away, his teeth lightly scraping your skin in resistance, “no… but you actually kinda look like everything I’ve been waiting for.”

 “Still can’t believe that line actually worked on you,” he reminisced on the moment, lying comfortably still beneath you. 

Not that he could see, you rolled your eyes, “didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

Jisung laughed his ever so melodic laugh and held you tighter to his chest, “sorry, I don’t make the rules. You should consult with whoever wrote the vampire handbook.”

You sat up then, straddling either side of his slim waist and palms firmly planted on his chest. Jisung readjusted the pillow under his head and kept his hands there, gazing up at you with the fondest of eyes. It always mesmerized you how prettily they sparkled even in the dimmest light. “Your hair’s getting longer,” not thinking about it, you reach to brush the strand back from his face, tugging at the roots.

“That’s not what you wanna talk about.” Jisung’s hands reassuringly caressed your thighs.

“I always wanna talk about you.”

“And I love that. But ask me what you wanna ask me.”

Playing with his hair a little while longer, you let the courage build up to what it was you truly wanted to say. He let you use him like a stress ball, kneading and toying while taking all of the affection gratefully. “Do you ever wonder where we came from?”

“I don't remember the name of the hospital I was born at, but it was in Incheon–”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” His cheeky smile fell just a little as he relaxed further into your touch. All of his features softened as he read what he could from your troubled expression.

Jisung sighed, “I do wonder. I wonder what I would’ve looked like with gray hair, sulk for a little, then I thank whoever created us for letting me live long enough to find you.”

“I found you, remember?” You squished his cheeks in both your hands.

“And it took you long enough,” he replied with puckered lips. It was cute, you indulged him and softly met his skin with a gentle touch. How warm he was, only due to the ascending sun beaming through the window to heat his otherwise cold skin. Jisung sighed, holding you in place by the back of your neck to feel your contrast in temperature.

A slight twitch beneath your groin made you smile into the kiss, “I didn’t even do anything,” you tease against his lips.

“Do you have to?” Jisung giggled, playfully rolling you over to hover above your body.

He pulled away and did nothing but stare. Deeply, longingly, so full of sentiment that he was sure even the richest, sweetest blood in the world couldn’t make him feel this type of euphoria. You let go of his hair to trace a finger across his cheek, then thumb at his bottom lip the same way you did the first time you’d met. No intention other than to feel close to him, you dip your thumb into his mouth and swipe it over his tongue. Jisung closed his lips around the digit and watched the way your eyes darkened, though not necessarily with the lust he’s used to. There was something else you wanted to talk about, hoping to find it on the tip of his tongue.

Jisung hummed with encouragement, he knew you were doing this to keep him from speaking so you could voice your mind freely. “It’ll be one of us, sooner or later.”

Ah, that’s what this is.

“A hunter, a vengeful witch, some freak accident knowing you–”

“With’es ‘re ec’thinct,” he mumbled.

Pressing harder onto his tongue, “you don’t know that.” Jisung watched your eyebrows knit together for a split second before speaking again. “I’m just– I don’t know what I’d do… if I lost you.”

Slowly, he took your hand from his mouth and threaded it through his hair again, “they’d have to pry my undead body from yours arms if they plan to take me from you.” Jisung could see the anguish in your eyes at the mere thought of him being gone as he rolled you over, unable to fight the sadness from taking over.

“I’d rather die first.” As if all the air was stolen from his lungs, Jisung felt his paperweight heart squeeze like you’d stuck your hand in his chest in a lame attempt to resuscitate it. “I don’t want to know what it’s like to live without you.”

For the first time since you’d found him, he was at a loss for words– because he understood. He understood the hurt behind the fake scenario he knew was playing out in your head, as he felt the same way. He trailed the hand keeping yours in his hair down, brushing away the locks that covered your neck. As he dipped down to nibble at the supple skin, Jisung felt the wetness that fell. He kissed that away, too, all the way back up to your lips. There was no rush in the kiss, no urgency or carnality that usually fueled him. Rather, he wanted to revel in the electricity that never seemed to dim, letting it flow throughout his entire body and burned it into his memory. God, he loves your lips. 

He mindlessly swiped away the remaining tears, a gentle reminder that he was here, and by no means other than an act of whatever god is out there, was he going to leave.

You, to put it simply, wanted to crawl into his ribcage and wear him like a shield. You wanted to be so close to him that your bodies fused and became one, never separating. Even the clothes you wore now felt like too much of a barrier, all but tearing his shirt by the back of the neck and tossing it aside. You couldn’t be mad when he did the same to you, then with your panties and his shorts until there was nothing but skin keeping your still hearts apart.

Jisung wanted so badly to worship you when he felt your hips bucking up into his thigh with a slick coating. And although you would never deny him the pleasure of sending you to see god herself with just his mouth, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Quick work of his fingers, you were whining and clawing from his scalp down his back, there would’ve been marks if that was possible. A pop of his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste, you wrapped your legs around his waist to move him along. He was trying to draw it out, make you slow down and appreciate the moment. Though they weren’t fleeting– thanks, immortality– they were precious, every single one. The many, many times he’s had you like this are all his favorites, genuinely unable to choose just one.

“Be with me,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours and unmoving. You pouted, chest hiccuping with need. “Just be with me right now.” As much as you wanted him, you knew what he meant. 

To be loved is to be seen, to be understood, to be known and heard and changed. “I’m here,” barely a hair’s breadth of a whisper.

“You are, my loveliest. And I am, too.” Jisung kissed you again, a little more heat behind it now as he reached between your bodies to finally connect. 

The first push of him past your entrance is always relieving, yet spiraling as it makes you want more in an instant. Deep groans emit from both of you into the kiss, though Jisung doesn’t move once fully inside. He lets the warmth of your cunt radiate throughout his body and then some. “You’re here,” he mumbles once, and then again as his lips fall to your cheek. He doesn’t say it for himself, but for your sake. It’s grounding, the simple words, like because it’s coming from his mouth that it makes it true.

And when his teeth rakes over where your pulse should be, your body tenses up with a shiver. 

Oh, fuck being in the moment– you are the moment, and he’s inside you. There’s quite literally not a single thing that could compare.

Jisung sinks his canines into your neck, trying to keep from baring his fangs with excitement. “If you don’t move right now–”

You don’t get to finish threatening him before his hips are slowly pulling back and pushing in, slick sounding from your bodies with each slide. Your arms are wrapped tight over his shoulders, pressing him chest to chest as he attempts to keep himself in check by treating your neck like a chew toy. Not that you mind, the pain mixed with the pleasure is a gentle reminder that he’s the only one that could ever hurt you, the power he has over you.

He’s not timid, nor is he rough, though thrusting as though he wants to feel himself in your stomach. And he does, it drives him insane, taking a second from your throat to glare down at where he’s poking through your belly with each glide. It makes his eyes roll back and momentarily stutter. You use it to your advantage, throwing him to the side and frantically mounting him again.

The quick slide of your pussy down onto him had Jisung involuntarily bucking upwards, seeing the head of his cock so subtly bulge again. He almost came on the spot, if he’s being honest with himself. But you didn’t give him the chance to so much as catch his metaphorical breath when you began to grind yourself forward and back, swiveling your hips with a new kind of heat. 

In a way, Jisung was a little embarrassed that you overpowered him so easily, though not at all surprised. You took from him what he refused to give you, and it turned him on beyond belief. But it also made him want to prove himself that much more– not that he necessarily needed to. The grip he had on your hips now, you knew what he wanted to do.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warned, and an audible whimper left him. You couldn’t help a laugh because he was so damn cute looking at you like you’d hung the stars for him. Without the human feature of exhaustion, you went to town on top of him, moving your hips in circles for a bit before ultimately leaning forward and slicking your hips up and down. Jisung met your lips halfway to tangle his fingers in your hair and hold you captive. That was, until he thought it was time for a position change.

Although you were physically stronger than him, you were at your weakest when he was kissing you, too in love with the feeling to focus clearly. Jisung caught you off guard, flipping your bodies again and tossing you into the pillows with a yelp. “Quit fucking around,” his timbre dropped, towering over you again with a sharper aura.

Jisung handled you into a position he knew you couldn’t get out of, on your side with your leg hitched in the air by his hold. He didn’t wait to plunge back into your wet cunt, picking up speed as he decided to instead press your top leg into the bed and expose you even more. You could do nothing but claw at his arms and chest, crying out as he hit deeper parts of you. 

“You were so assertive before, baby. What happened?” He teased with a smirk. “You get a kiss and a dick in you and forget how to act.”

He wasn’t totally wrong, but you couldn’t use your brain even if you tried. Not that he was doing anything particularly special in terms of how he was fucking you– though it was still good as hell– you weren’t in the right state of mind since before you started. You were silently needy; physically, emotionally, mentally on every plane of existence, unable to put it into words. When domination fails, you succumb to being fucked the princess you are.

Jisung pressed his pelvis hard into your ass, kissing you gently whilst pinning your arms above your head. “Don’t you feel that, lovely?” His free hand trickled to your belly, pressing and nudging himself deeper into you. The whimper that escaped was enough for him to keep talking. “I don’t think we could be any closer,” he slid his hand higher to wrap around your throat, “don’t you feel me here, too? Is that why you can’t speak?” Your attempt to nod was endearing, kissing you again as he squeezed.

“Oh, I love when you’re in love. You do love me, right?” You nodded weakly. “No, no. You’re going to say, ‘I love you.’ Okay?”

Jisung pinched your cheeks together in his palm, lips puckering when you tried to speak, “love you so much, Sungie.” That answer appeased him, kissing you abruptly before shoving your face into the pillows.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do.”

He leaned back, putting all his weight on his palms that caged your upper body against the mattress. Jisung kept one knee pinning your top leg to the bed and snapped his hips faster, harder, his version of mercy being that your hands were now free to grab him however you pleased. Did you ever need to, with the way you were almost being tossed up the bed from the force. His cock hit places that never failed to make you squeal and drool in ecstasy.

Prodding at a rather tender spot inside you, your walls clenched extra tightly around him, making Jisung’s upper body strength crumble. “Ah– fuck, fucking love you, too. Love you so much. Love this pussy,” his teeth found a home against your neck again, this time unable to fight the urge to sink his fangs into the flesh.

If you weren’t close before, you sure as hell were now. He scraped the sharpness over your delicate skin, letting goosebumps rise and your moans grow louder until you were begging for him to sink them into you. To claim you in a way that was reserved for only the most devoted of your species.

“Do it,” you pleaded with tears in your eyes, “for forever.”

Your reminder of how permanent this action was excited him, made him more desperate and more carnal than ever before. Drinking your blood was a sacred act that binds you together, the red string becoming a red knot made of a supernaturally unbreakable force. He dies, you die, and vice versa. Just the way you both wanted.

“Can’t live without you,” your voice, broken but truthful, he couldn’t deny you any longer.

“Won’t live without you,” Jisung corrected, and let himself divulge in the red taste of you.

Is this what heaven feels like? Warmth, safety, ardor, you felt every part of your being sync with his as your head began to feel light, body being overcome with a tidal wave of euphoria. The blinding white light behind your eyes faded, then there was Jisung. In every corner of your mind, every fiber of your body, he was there. What seemed like a vision of his hands reaching out for yours, tangled in the notorious red string. It was quiet, but something urged you to reach out to him and intertwine. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew it was him. So wonderfully strange, everything that was once a burden became insignificant as soon as your hands connected. What was once two separate beings became one, tied by the wrist.

Your eyes finally opened after what seemed like centuries. He was already looking down at you with pure adoration, stroking your cheek softly, just as out of false breath as you were. “I didn’t think you could be any more beautiful. I’m so glad to be wrong.”

“Why didn’t we ever do that before?” Jisung kissed your forehead, falling to the side without pulling out as he pondered your question.

“Honestly, I thought it was a load of shit– the whole soul-binding thing,” he held you tight against his chest, tucking your head under his chin as he massaged around the tender mark on your neck.

“So you felt it.”

“Fuck, did I feel it? I swear I saw us from some fuckin’ omniscient point of view. And can I say, we should do porn ‘cus we look good as hell.”

“Wait, what?” He had an entirely different experience, still supernatural, nonetheless. “You actually– what?”

“I’m serious,” Jisung peered down at you, not a single joking tone. “Like, time stopped. Or froze, I don’t know. It was a weird limbo thing, I don’t remember a lot of it. I bit you, then there we were… y’know. And there was something tied around my hands. I wasn’t really thinking– or my hands were moving by themselves. A– and you were there. I mean, I couldn’t see you, but I knew it was you.”

His words left you stunned, so different yet the same. You wished you could’ve seen what he did, but the indescribable sensation of his soul finding yours is irreplaceable. That’s how you explained it to him. Jisung was always bringing up how you’d first met, and you’d always say that you found him first. Except, he stayed still, waiting for you to make your way to his side of the circle.

The after effects of the intense moment left you mentally tired. Although you can’t sleep, you can close your eyes and let the comfort of Jisung’s arms soothe your lethargic mind. “Won’t live without you,” voice muffled by the skin of his chest.

“Well, now you really can’t, my loveliest.”

☆ﾟ

His hair is still damp from the running, tied in a bun. A red hairband is pulling back his greasy locks from his forehead. He hasn't changed that in at least two weeks.

"Idiot," you chuckle in response, "how was it?"

"Uh, fine I guess" Jisung answers while kicking off his grayish, damp socks along with his shoes, "Changbin-hyung fell and ate a bunch of soil, I laughed so hard I peed my pants" he snorts.

"You all act just like children," you reply with a giggle, "I'm glad you had a good time. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner yet?"

"I ate a burger with the boys . It was huuuuge, baby. Can still feel it moving in my stomach," he replies as he finally enters in the living room delivering his signature goofy smile. 

You smile as you see him patting his tummy. Jisung is very thin, almost borderline unhealthy, but a small layer of fat sits stubbornly below his belly button, and it doesn’t go away despite all of the physical exercise. Jisung says it’s okay, that he doesn't mind. But you, you love it.

"Good. You didn’t take a shower there, did you?" you ask stretching your legs on the couch and pausing the show you were watching. 

"Nah, I didn't feel like it. I'll do it in a while." Jisung answers while opening the refrigerator and fishing out a can of sprite. He opens it with gnarled fingers and brings it to his lips, chugging half of it in one big gulp. 

"Ew, Sungie" 

Jisung widens his eyes in fake shock and leans against the peninsula of the kitchen. "Ew? To the love of your life? Your boyfriend, your future husband, the apple of your ey-"

"Enough of this," you laugh as you come closer him, leaning across the peninsula. "I could count the grease stains on your hands if I wanted to. You're dirty."

"Mean," Jisung whispers drinking the other half of the sprite and hiding a burp with one fist. "I thought I'd come home and get a better treatment than this."

You burst out laughing at his words. "Uh, did you have plans? What did you expect big boy, tell me." 

Jisung chuckles again and you can see a bit of burger sauce pooled at the corner of his lips. 

"Uhh, dunno. A massage, maybe? Showing your baby you love him?”

You laugh, "You want a massage? Come here, that can be arranged." You take a couple of steps back and sit on the couch, on the peninsula side, so you can stretch your legs. Jisung looks at you with a lopsided smile and brings a hand to his head, scratching behind his ear. You can see from a distance the oily strands of hair slipping through his fingers. You should find it disgusting. You really should.

You open your arms and offer him a big smile, "Come on, baby. You must be dead tired, hmm? The boys destroyed you. Come to mama, I'll give you what you need."

Jisung gulps and giggles, wobbling closer to you and letting himself fall into the space between your thighs, abandoning his back against your chest. Then he lets himself slide forward a little, pressing the nape of his neck against the softness of your breasts under the shirt you're wearing.

"Uh, uh. That feels nice already," he murmurs adjusting himself against your chest.

"Have you had some drinks?" you ask, bringing your hands to his shoulders and pinching them lightly. The fabric is damp and smells of sweat and the spray deodorant Jisung always puts on when he doesn't feel like showering.

"Just a couple of beers with Chan-hyung," Jisung sobs as soon as your fingers sink lightly into his muscles, "that man needs to get laid."

"Don't be cocky, Sungie," you reply with a grin as your hands descend to work on the muscles in his arms, "if it wasn’t for me, you'd be jerking off to one of your tacky porns as well. Be grateful I picked you up on the streets and decided you would be mine."

Your words are light, he knows you are joking. Even though, to tell the truth, Jisung was a virgin before meeting you, and the first time you had sex he was so nervous he came before he even managed to put the tip in. Adorable.

Jisung laughs and then he lets out a breathy moan when you run your fingers up between his shoulder blades, focusing on a knot. "That’s true. But now he’s the one jacking off to a shower wall. While me, I have a beautiful girlfriend who decided I was good enough to be adopted. I still am thankful for your bad taste in men." 

"My taste in men is great, excuse you," you retort as your chin rests on his head, near the band that pulls back his hair. "I pulled the nastiest hottest boy around. I regret nothing."

Jisung laughs. "You literally call me your rat." 

"Rats are cute," you answer back piquantly. Your fingers continue to work on the knot in Jisung's back with a little more insistence. Jisung writhes softly. "You just call me that because I'm a little gross."

You lower your head to rest a kiss on his greasy hair. There's gel residue on the strands, and it's a bit crusty.

"You know how much I love that you're a little gross. Makes me feral."

"You're a freak." Jisung laughs as your hands finish massaging his shoulder blades and descend to the front, down to his chest, to caress his sore pecs.

"Maybe," you admit. "Tell me how many beers you've had again. Just the truth this time, hmm?" 

"Five. Or six. Maybe six. Ah-" Jisung gulps when you brush your thumb on his pec, grazing his nipple. "Feelin' a bit tipsy." 

"I know, my love," you whisper as you continue massaging his chest with your fingers. Jisung's head is nestled perfectly between your breasts and you feel his ribcage swell and deflate quickly, like a baby bird. "You're all wriggly. You just can't sit still when you feel good, hmm?"

Jisung laughs embarrassed before letting a faint moan out when your fingers pinch his nipple again, more insistently. “Not fair though, you're t-teasing."

You nod a few times as your face descends to his ear, kissing the skin behind it, where you know that acrid, powerful smell typical of Jisung accumulates. “As if you didn't have a different kind of massage in mind from the beginning. Don't lie to mama, Sungie."

Jisung shakes his head tentatively, “I wasn’t trying to imply any of that”.

You chuckle at his words, bringing your mouth to his earlobe and nibbling at it. “Now say it again without drooling over yourself, mh?”

Jisung hiccups and goes limp against you, giving you enough space to keep nosing at his neck. A little bit of saliva is bubbling out of his parted lips, forming a shiny coat on his skin and you just wanna suck it off.

“Well, maybe. M-maybe just a little,” he grunts while the tip of your tongue brushes on the shell of his ear. “You’re mean for real.”

“Don’t call me mean when I’m about to jack you off, Sungie. That’s just ungrateful, don’t you think?” you whisper on his skin, breathing the sweet smell of his body in. Even his sweat kinda smells like beer. That’s disgusting and hot at the same time. Maybe you’re a freak after all.

“Oh. Oh. We’re… we’re doing that? Fuck, yeah. Suuuure, cool.” And then he lets out the nervous squeak he does everytime you’re about to touch him. It doesn’t matter it’s been years, he never gets used to you been enough attracted to him to give him pleasure even if he’s dirty. But, to be fair, Jisung is always kind of dirty.

You smile against his skin and your fingers find his nipple again, rolling it between your pointer and thumb over the fabric of his top. Jisung keens at that and you can feel the goosebumps forming on his arms under you.

“Wanna kiss. Give Sungie kiss first? Can you? Please?” He blubbers while your other hand is caressing just above his navel. He turns his face to look at you, and the angle is weird because he needs to force himself in this position, but his cheeks are flushed and cute, and his eyes so big you can almost see your own reflection in them.

The first kiss on his lips is just a peck, nothing else, and you can feel that Jisung tries, he tries so hard not to be affected too much this early, but as soon as you place your mouth on him and start to nibble lightly at his bottom lip, he lets out a broken whimper. He tastes like alcohol and ketchup, and his teeth are all sticky for the sprite he just chugged. You find yourself forcing his mouth open just after a few seconds just to be able to lick at them, feeling the sugar on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re so filthy, Sungie. You’re delicious.” You tease him a bit while sucking his own wet muscle into your mouth and slowly pulling it between your teeth.

Jisung lets out the quietest yet painful moan, "Ah- please, I just...", and he starts parting his thighs just a little bit, the tiniest movement showing how he is growing hard under his pants.

You look down and he is just the prettiest, all spread out for you.

“Never denied you anything,” you mutter as you scoot forward on the sofa to place a last peck on his lips. They’re a bit chapped, and a drop of blood stains your mouth.

Jisung’s head falls back on your chest, nuzzling between the comfort of your breasts, and he looks wrecked already. His eyes are teary and his vision fuzzy while his lips pucker, as if he was trying to suck on the air.

“Fuck, you’re so cute. Wish you had something on your mouth, uh?” you ask him as your left hand puts and end to the lazy massage on his lower stomach and finally cups him through his pants.

Jisung is fully hard already but, to an untrained eye, the two inches tent his erection is struggling to maintain makes him look like he’s just sporting half of a chub.

“Uh, uh - yeah, w-wanna suck please,” he manages while your hands goes a bit lower to graze his balls. “Please, mama- gimme anything.”

“Oh, Sungie, don’t beg,” you whisper kissing the tender skin of his ear one more time. Jisung’s soft sobs always make you feel lightheaded and needy, but you cannot show him. Not now. “Mama’s gonna give you fingers, mhkay?”

Jisung nods and parts his lips as a pavlovian response to your words, his tongue lolling out diligently out of his mouth. Your pointer and middle finger pinch the fat of his bottom lip and he moans softly at the teasing. When you finally ease your fingers inside of the heath of his mouth, Jisung lets out a weak cry. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” he gurgles around your digits as an indecent amount of spit oozes out and coat your palm.

When you look over his shoulder, you can see the shape of Jisung’s tiny cock angrily pointing at you, still covered by his shorts. The red fabric is somehow already wet because Jisung is always eager and leaky, and what he lacks in size he makes up in liquids.

“How many minutes today, Sungie? How much can you last for mama?” you ask, tone sticky and sweet while you thrust your fingers deeper inside his mouth and brush at the base of his tongue.

Jisung chokes on the pressure and a single tear escapes from his eyes. His cock twitches and you pat it condescendingly. “Aw, poor thing. How much? Two minutes?”

“Uh- mhhf sowy” he hiccups, mouth full of fingers and saliva, “sorry, I’m not..”

You smile and you finally wrap your free hand around his balls, squeezing it. “Don’t worry, baby. Mama gets it. Wanna come already uh?”

Your face finds its way against the crook of his neck and you lick a fat portion of skin, sucking it into your mouth. He tastes like soil, dirt and sweat. But most importantly, it tastes like Jisung. Like fried food and soda, mint cigarettes to cover the smell of unwashed teeth, ingrown hair and blemishes, acne and cum.

You bite on that sensitive spot and he sobs the most pathetic whimper out as your hand slaps his clothed cock once, twice, thrice, and your fingers go deeper and deeper, almost brushing his uvula and making him drown on his own spit.

“So-oh-sorry” he cries as his cock spasms one more time under the constriction of two layers of clothes. His knees shake and he lets out the most loud and sinful noise his voice lets him. His hips tremble with the force of his orgasm and he goes completely limp against you while spurting warm ropes of cum inside of his sweaty underwear. His eyes are glassy and full of tears while he empties himself for what it seems to be a full minute. He always cums more than he lasts anyway.

You hold him close through it as his high washes over him, arm tight around his waist, and you kiss his cheek, savoring the salt on his skin.

After a minute, Jisung turns his head in search of your reassurance, and he finds you already looking at him, your fingers falling out of his mouth to let him breathe properly.

“Well, that was a record” you chuckle at the sight of his goofy smile.

Jisung huffs and rolls his eyes at you. “I said- I said I had a few beers. That’s why.” He tries to justify himself.

You wink at him and you blow a raspberry on his nose. He always try to be the bigger man, but it never works.

“Whatever you say,” you concede. “Go change your underwear now. And take a shower.”

Jisung lazily shakes his head. “Nah. Too tired. Imma do it later.”

“You’re gross, Jisung.”

“And you’re a freak.”

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

MINHO.

When Minho needs to not be Lee Know, when he just needs to be Minho from Gimpo, he knows that he can count on you. It's Minho's style, to mess around with someone who knew him before all of this— the idol lifestyle, the worldwide stardom.

Minho is aware that he's being a little cruel. You only ever hear from him when he's back home, after all. He gives you nothing of his life in Stray Kids; instead, he gives you the scraps of the boy he once was.

He visits on the rare holiday and the even rarer day-offs. He'll roll his eyes when you ask him to cook for you, but he'll already have all the ingredients to your favorite dishes. He'll complain about you sitting on the kitchen counter, but he'll still listen to your stories about work, about your day-to-day life.

You could convince yourself that you're just two friends who are catching up. But if you squint, you see the little things. How Minho's comments about your suitors are always a touch bitter and snide. How his gaze lingers as you eat the meal he prepared.

And when you ask him, one evening, "Why are you here, Minho?", you almost miss the look on his face. Almost. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced with something closer to boredom. "Because I want to be," he'll say. A part of you knows that he means it. Another part of you wishes that he meant it in a different way.

Minho keeps coming home to you, but he also keeps leaving the next day. He never looks back as he drives away.

🎧 'tis the damn season, taylor swift | we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend... i'm stayin' at my parents' house, and the road not taken looks real good now.

CHANGBIN.

It should come as no surprise that Changbin finds romance in the gym. It's one of the few places he frequents outside of the company or the dorms, and it's rare for any of the boys to be with him as he goes.

Maybe you know who he is. Maybe you don't. Changbin can't really bring himself to care. The only thing he's concerned about is that your form is atrocious; he's concerned you're going to break your back if you keep it up. On the day he caves, he does it so casually— a cool offer of "Need a gym buddy?"

The two of you fall in to a ninety-minute routine every M-W-F. At first, it's strictly companionship. Over time, it becomes a little closer to friendship. And then— does Changbin's hand stay a beat too long at the small of your back? Is his hold on your bicep just a little on the possessive side? You're not entirely sure.

If nothing ever happens, it's not for the lack of trying. You've asked Chanbgin out to dinner, to drinks, but he always gives you a sheepish smile and some flimsy excuse. Prior plans. A strict diet.

Still, he's devastatingly funny, and always sincere when he compliments your progress. He touches you like you're fragile and his eyes follow you across the gym. It's torturous, the plausible deniability that you both attempt to maintain. Months in to this arrangement, you try to ask him out one last time. Like every other instance before, he looks like he's genuinely debating it.

But, like every other instance before, he shakes his head. You go your separate ways after the usual pleasantries— good night, see you next week, take care— and you learn that some things are just not meant to work out.

🎧 goodnight n go, ariana grande | it's bad enough we get along so well; just say 'good night' and go.

HYUNJIN.

Honestly, anything akin to a 'situationship' would kill a hopeless romantic like Hyunjin. A part of him thinks that he'd rather stay single than deal with the uncertainties of a casual relationship, than not give his all to just one person.

It gets lonely, though. A lot lonelier than he cares to admit. And so Hyunjin finds solace in you, in just how much he can get away with. Unlike Chan, Hyunjin is aware of what he's doing. You're an imitation of the real thing. A balm meant to soothe, but never meant to always have on.

He plays his role well. He gets sulky when you don't respond, but then he'll go days without saying a word to you. He lavishes you with words of affirmation, but it's never the words that matter the most.

It's like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. Hyunjin knows that his little charade with you doesn't drive away the lonely, not completely. It can only keep it at bay. With the life he lives, he figures that it's the most that he can get.

Out of the eight, Hyunjin is the only one who will ask you to stay. When you try to break it off, when you attempt to call him out— he's not above begging. He knows it's a little pathetic, to be so desperate for the facsimile of the romance he wants. But it's all he can afford.

It's a vicious cycle. Hyunjin is hot; Hyunjin is cold. He leaves you with a love that's lukewarm.

🎧 tug of war, carly rae jepsen | you seem too good, too good to be true. i'm loving you longer— longer than i'm used to.

JISUNG.

Jisung enjoys the anonymity that the internet can give him. There's only so much places he can go without being recognized, only so many people he can meet who don't know him as HAN from Stray Kids.

On the internet, he doesn't have to be an idol. He's just some guy in his mid-twenties, looking for romance. His profile says he likes desserts and music. He's confident, here, because the people on the other side of the screen— like you— are just as nameless.

It gives him confidence. His usual sharp humor is still in place, but he's a smooth talker, too. He shamelessly tells you what he thinks, when he thinks it— everything from that outfit suits you to I like talking to you.

One time, Jisung even jokingly tells you, I'm just trying to find inspiration for my songs. That has always been his biggest flaw: He has yet to learn how to look at a person and not see a writing prompt.

Jisung is the one who makes the cleanest cut. If you dare to ask him more about himself, or if you question what lies underneath your mutual flirtations, he'll just... leave. The internet makes it so easy to ghost, to charge it all up to experience. And if you're the one who leaves— that works, too.

It doesn't matter who leaves. It always ends the same way: Track three on their recent comeback or a member's newest [SKZ PLAYER], with Han in the credits.

🎧 bad guy, hatchie | and you could be the bad guy, i could be the bad guy. any way you wanna try, it doesn't make it feel right.

FELIX.

Felix's situation is somehow one of the worse types, because his is clearly just a matter of circumstance. It's a waltz of 'will they, won't they?', where Felix just can't seem to make up his mind on how he wants you.

He cares for you. He knows that much. And it shows, too, in the ways that you interact, in the little things he does for you. He enjoys your company, whether it's playing video games with you or teaching you how to bake. He likes you. Sure, fine.

Enough to date you, though? To put you through the terrifying ordeal that is dating an idol?... Felix isn't sure about that. He dances around the truth, inadvertently stringing you along as he goes.

In a way, it feels like the two of you are in lockstep. Felix will just barely cross the line of friendship before reeling in, before taking it back. It can be draining; it can be thrilling. It's whatever you make it.

Felix never comes to a decision. There's too much on his plate, and he will ultimately put the boys— in extension, himself— first. The two of you have the best luck in staying in touch, in settling for something that resembles a proper friendship.

(But it's still there. Felix, at the end of the day, cannot completely close himself to you. Call it kindness. Call it cruelty. The door, still half-open; the lights, still on.)

🎧 light on, maggie rogers | if you're gone for good, then i'm okay with that. if you leave the light on, then i'll leave the light on.

SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin might not be the most tactile in the group, might not be the 'clingiest' in the traditional sense of word, but he has his moments. He craves attention, companionship, people. While he has his pick of the litter with the boys, there's also only so much that they can offer.

Enter you. Let it be made clear: Seungmin would never get in an arrangement like this if you weren't both on the same page. From the get go, he tells you his intentions. "Nothing serious," he warns, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. "None of that 'love' stuff."

And it's not because Seungmin doesn't want to fall in love. Of course he wants to! But at the price of his career? Never. He's willing to compromise, though. To treat all of this almost like it's a business transaction. To only ever have you in private, in secret.

He knows his boundaries. He never gives you everything, but he also never leaves you high and dry. In a way, you're both just filling the gaps in each other's lives— almost like it's a quota. You steal away on private dates. You both get your fill of physical affection. Neither of you call it a relationship.

There are one or two versions of this story where Seungmin is the one who falls first. It is inevitably you, and when he picks up on it, there is no screaming match. No 'break up' in a parking lot. It's a quiet sort of ending where you can tell that Seungmin is just a little bit disappointed to have to cut you loose.

🎧 lowkey, niki | i know we're a little fucked up to stay still, love. be as quite as you can 'cause if anyone sees they'll just blow shit up.

JEONGIN.

Being surrounded by seven other guys who constantly treat him like he's the youngest, it's a little difficult for Jeongin to not let it get to his head. He still sometimes acts his age— especially when it comes to dating.

He's never hasty enough to cause any real damage, though there are times where he comes dangerously close. If there's anything bound to get him in to trouble, it's his tendency to just leave when something no longer serves him.

Jeongin is acutely aware, after all, of the little power that he wields. He's a big believer that he can get anything he wants as long as he puts his mind to it. And so he dates you for a short time, in a way that can only really be described as love bombing.

He loves sneaking out to go on dates, loves late night phone calls and shameless flirting. He'll send you a dozen selcas; he'll ask you to help pick out his outfit. He's sweet in a way that only somebody reckless and young can be, and it's the reason why people fall so hard and so fast.

But the moment Jeongin catches any hint of that— the impending commitment conversation, the just-about-to-hit question of 'what are we?'— he's already blocking your number. He may seem devil-may-care, but he'd been careful from the very beginning.

You'll never be able to definitively say that he flirted with you, that you were together. He knows how to cover up his tracks. When Jeongin clears out, it's always in a way that leaves you wondering: Did it really ever happen at all?

“Mmfph?” You grunt when your narrowed eyes manage to clock him standing there.

He grins automatically, fingers reaching up to tip a hat he isn’t wearing. “Mmfph to you, too.”

Whatever drugs they gave you to knock you on your ass aren’t strong enough to overcome your personality; you roll your eyes much more easily than you keep them fully open. That trademark sass must’ve taken a lot out of you, though. You doze off again before he can blink, slumping further in your chair with your head lolled uncomfortably to the side.

Your neck is going to hurt later, he thinks with a frown. 

“Once they get their sea legs back, you should be okay to go.”

Chan jumps when the surgeon pipes up, having completely forgotten anyone else was in the room.

She clears her throat sheepishly, clearly aware that she’s interrupting something. Breezing right past that awkwardness, she pulls a prescription pad from her coat pocket. The top page is promptly ripped off and passed to him with a stern look. 

She warns, “Make sure they don’t take this medication on an empty stomach.”

Damn — only two hours in, and he’s already being promoted from chauffeur to caretaker? It should embarrass him that this fact tickles him thoroughly pink, but it doesn’t. Inwardly, he high-fives himself.

Nice one, Chan!

“Soup is best,” the surgeon continues, once again pulling him out of his own head. There’s a pause before she remembers the kicker; she waves her hand urgently when she finally does. “Nothing spicy, though.”

He nods in understanding, and just like that, she pats his shoulder and disappears out the door. Unsure what else to do, Chan takes a seat on the small stool next to your chair and waits.

And wait, and waits, and waits.

Jesus. What did they give you — a horse tranquilizer?

When your eyes open the second time, they find him immediately. They’re still a bit glassy, but they’re much more alert. Bright, even, which is a bit of a wonder, given the circumstances. Right away, he can tell that the space cadet has — sort of — returned to Earth.

“Can —?” You gesture to your mouth, which struggles to frown around the gauze. 

Uselessly, you flick out your tongue in an attempt to wet your lips. They're dry from all the time you must’ve spent with your mouth open, and his fingers twitch again when he pictures the chapstick in his pocket.

You distract him with what he assumes are words, prompting him to shift his gaze from your mouth to your eyes.

Everything that comes next is garbled, totally incoherent, but he gets the gist. With a quick glance at his watch, he confirms that it’s been thirty minutes since he started watching you sleep, and that feels like enough time. 

Right?

So, he shrugs permissively; you perk up the second you’re given the green light. Bravely, you only whine a little bit when you lay eyes on the slightly bloody, thoroughly spit-soaked material as you pull it away from your gums. 

Chan can’t tell if you’re trying to pout when you hold that mess out to him and stare expectantly, but the intent doesn’t matter much in the long run; the effect is the same. He takes your drooled-on trash without a second thought.

Squinting as he concentrates, he fires it off towards the bin in the corner like he’s trying to beat a buzzer. The pair of you watch as it ricochets off the wall, then drops perfectly in the basket below.

Immediately, he turns back to you with wiggling eyebrows and a smirk. “Bank shot,” he brags.

You ignore the true purpose of his raised hand — a well-deserved high-five — and instead latch onto it.  Gripping tightly as if your life depends on it, you drag yourself up and out of your chair. 

Before you can throw yourself entirely off balance, Chan swoops in to tuck you under his arm. You’re independent to a fault, however; and you glare up at him exactly like he guessed you would. Apologetic, he keeps his distance with his hands raised.

Go for it, then.

All it takes for you to accept defeat is a few wobbly steps toward the door and some curse words muttered under your breath, for zest. You give in faster than you want to and dive into his side with a long-suffering groan. You’re not looking, so he doesn't bother to hide the triumphant smirk that spreads when your arms wrap around his waist.

The walk back to his car takes a lot more effort than he initially expected. Though you cling to him like you’ll float off without him, you insist on attempting to wander in every direction except the one you need to head in. To the best of his ability, Chan steers you across the pavement; you babble through every stumbled step.

“I’m going to open your door now, okay?” He coos once you finally reach his car.

It surprises him slightly — the softness he’s exuding, and how much like a reflex it feels — but he doesn’t dwell on it. He’s got a far more difficult puzzle to solve: getting your wriggling body into his car.

After a few unsuccessful tries, you finally let him usher you out of the way of the door. You spill into his passenger seat like you’re more jelly than bones, knocking your skull against the doorframe as you go.

Jesus Christ.

Eyes wide, Chan ducks down to run his fingers gingerly over what will likely be a goose egg tomorrow. Nervously, he chuckles, “That — uhh — that was quite the entrance. You okay?”

Tilting your chin just so, you push your cheek into his palm and blink up at him slowly like you’ve already forgotten the question. Suddenly, so has he. Several moments whizz by just like that — with his arm raised uncomfortably and your heavy head resting against his hand.

Never in his life has he wanted to kiss a forehead as badly as he does yours. It’s like you’ve got a magnet where your orbital bone should be, and it’s a bit shocking. Whatever magic you’ve got — some sort of tractor beam in your eyes, perhaps — pulls, pulls, pulls, but he stops himself.

That’s not what this is, he reminds himself as he backs away and shuts your door carefully in his place. That’s not who I am to you.

In this moment, Chan is your taxi driver, carting you off to the apartment he’s been in a hundred times — but never once in the daytime.

As he goes, it becomes a little clearer with every kilometer: the sun can’t be beating down overhead because he feels it next to him, warming his arm through his jacket; blinding him whenever his gaze drifts over to the passenger side.

“Chan,” you pout out of nowhere.

Again, your head droops fast and bumps his shoulder. You don’t react to this second knock, but he does, sucking air in through his teeth.

“Need to get you a helmet,” he mutters with a sheepish laugh. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion at this rate.”

“Don’t need a helmet,” you argue. “I need pork belly, bad. Stop, please?”

Glancing quickly down at you, Chan bites back a smile. You look so adorably pitiful with your hazy eyes blinking one at a time, lips all puffy to match your cheeks. It takes all he’s got to tear his eyes off you and put them back on the road ahead.

He sighs, genuinely sorry. “No can do, champ.”

You repeat the nickname, pop the last letter, and make yourself laugh so hard that you hiccup.

“Your options currently are soup or… well, soup.” He tries to sound firm, but if you pout at him a second time, Chan might throw your dentist’s warning right out the window. “Think it over while I stop at the pharmacy, yeah?”

In the quiet that follows, he swears he can hear the gears turning in your head. He doubts it has anything to do with what he just told you, but he doesn’t mind. Come to think of it, he doesn’t mind any of what this day has turned out to be so far. That doesn’t necessarily surprise him, either.

With the way things currently are between you, you don’t feature much in his everyday life; only weekends and the occasional weeknight. It works well, this thing you’ve got going. He enjoys what you do — that head game of yours is otherworldly — but judging by the glimpses he’s seen so far, he likes who you are, too.

Despite not knowing you on some deeper level, shit like this — being around you for some profoundly asexual purpose — feels natural. Like he could do it more often; be a little more than just a recurring character. If you let him, that is.

Would you let him?

That question rattles around his brain when he pulls up to the pharmacy and dashes inside, too wary to leave you alone for long but wholly unprepared to guide you through a shop in your current state. He’s still thinking about it when he jogs back to his car with your prescription in hand.

That bag is nearly dropped to the pavement below when he sees you, however; and he can’t remember what he was thinking about before because you’re weeping now. In a flash, Chan throws himself into his seat and jerks the door shut behind him, metal groaning in the process. 

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so forceful, but he can feel his pulse in his ears. On instinct, he reaches out and places gentle hands on your temples. Eyes scanning for any sign of injury, he tries to bury his urgency in a soothing voice. “Hey — talk to me. Are you okay?”

You blink up at him with wide, wet eyes. Oh, fuck, you’re breaking my heart. His stomach drops at the sight of your lower lip trembling, but then you whimper:

“What if worms don’t have best friends?”

And Chan needs a minute because he can’t believe you’re real, that you’re borderline bereft over worms, or that he’s this fucking enamored.

Before he knows it, he starts giggling so hard that his eyes start to swim. Thankfully, it’s with mirth and not utter devastation like yours. Pinching his bottom lip between his teeth, he wipes a tear off your cheek with the side of his thumb. Just as gently, he tries his best to reassure you, “I’m sure they do.”

“You’re sure?” You repeat with a sniffle. Chan nods; he’s never been more so.

Successfully placated, you fall into thoughtful silence next to him. It doesn’t last long, though. Abruptly, you and your goldfish memory change course: “Can we get pork belly?”

Something in him wants to give you the world in this moment — the moon on a string, or whatever — but he shakes his head, unwilling to budge. But then your face falls, and he blurts out, “When you’re better, I’ll take you out for some.”

And he means it.

You peep, “Maybe next week.”

Chan laughs while he puts the key in the ignition and turns it. Maybe, he thinks, if you remember having this conversation. As the engine roars back to life, a new thought bubbles to the surface in his mind:

Maybe you will remember.

If you do — and if he’s brave enough then — maybe he’ll confess that he’s a liar. He might own up to the fact that, when you called to ask for his help, he didn’t already have the day off like he claimed to; or that the sick time he rushed to claim in the aftermath wasn’t attributable to his health at all. 

Maybe he’ll admit that he doesn’t care how many people you asked before you turned to him because you ultimately did.

Just maybe.

As he backs out of his parking space, Chan casts another glance your way. It takes all the effort in the world for you to do it, but you smile at him with your whole damn face. 

That settles it, then.

He nods once — firmly — and corrects you, “Definitely next week.”

Everyone knows you, you're the classic cheer captain, who dates — or dated — the infamous quarterback in the football team. People envy you, cherish you, they want to be you and he always thought they loved you, but after hearing so many snarky comments about you in the last 20 minutes, he's actually starting to pity you.

You wanted to kill him, Seunghoon, that bastard. He destroyed a relationship of a year just to get in someone's pants? Fucking idiot. You hate him so much for cheating on you, but you hate him the most for not showing up kneeling at your door and asking for forgiveness. Who does he think he is? He would never have gotten his position on the football team if it wasn't for you, everyone knows that.

It's an understatement to say you are always the best in everything you put your mind into and if you're not the best by nature, you work hard until you become the best. You are smart, pretty, popularity is your thing, you're used to getting everyone's attention wherever you go. Everyone loves you, or at least they pretend well enough.

So when you started dating this guy, who was a nobody it was pretty shocking for everyone else. You turned him into the most popular guy so he could stay by your side, so you expected a little bit of loyalty from him. Guess that was expecting too much from a horny dog like him.

You did love Seunghoon, you wouldn't have dated him for a year if you didn't. But his character was always questionable, that, you won't deny. There's that saying that love makes you blind but you knew that he's no good and yet stayed with him, that's on you.

You can't stand the pity looks people give you when you walk down the hallway, they could at least pretend they are not talking shit about you behind your back.

To think the semester has only just started, you wish you could take a year off to make sure things die down nicely. But if you do, you'll definitely lose your position as cheer captain, there are too many people willing to get rid of you so they can get your title.

It's best for you to try and get rid of these thoughts, so you hold your head high turning on a corner, decided to pretend everything is okay. That's when you bump into someone, dropping the books you have in your hands and your phone screen down on the floor, gasping immediately, the last thing you need right now is a broken phone.

When you lean over to collect your things, the person who bumped into you does the same, going for the phone at the same time and touching hands with you. A strange wave of electricity makes your whole body shiver by that touch, making you snap your head in the direction of the person.

You know him. He's one of the members of 3racha, a music group everyone loves. Curiously, this is the first time you have seen him outside of a presentation. He's clearly different from the other members, wearing baggy clothes and displaying a hair that's undeniable too long with some questionable choice of colors on it. You can't even really see his eyes, however, he has something about him that makes you refuse to take your eyes off him.

He grabs your book and phone, ignoring your shameless stare. Standing up and handing your things to you.

“Sorry, I can pay for your phone's repair”, he says and for the first time in a minute you can divert your eyes from him, looking at the screen, absolutely shattered and sighing.

“No, it's okay. I was the one who was distracted”, you smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. Why do you feel the sudden urge to flirt with him? He's not even your type. Or at least, that's what you think.

He hums, not really interested, taking a paper out of his bag and writing something on it.

“Here, this is my number if you change your mind”, he gives you the paper, saying goodbye and disappearing somewhere in the hallway.

When you finally meet Seunghoon, he doesn't even apologize, actually, he doesn't look regretful at all. He has a smug smile, as if what he did is not serious, as if he's better than you now.

You always had a thought in the corner of your mind that maybe he had some kind of inferiority complex when it came to you, but you didn't think he would go as far as to cheat on you just to prove he is better in some way.

“You don't harbor hard feelings, right?” He smirks, chin up. “I know you're much better than me, I'm sure you won't mind what happened and we can still be friends”, he's mocking you, you recognize that tone.

You're grasping the fabric of your skirt under the table, did he really pull you away from your practice to say this? The audacity of this man.

“Of course I don't mind”, you smile kindly, acting as unbothered as you possibly can. This is something you learned in so many years of having eyes on you all the time: pretend. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry or even get mad. If you are able to pretend you don't care at all about him, that's what you're gonna do.

“I'm glad-”, his smile falters a bit, you are sure he expected you to break. That shows how little he knows about you, you would never make a scene in public.

“Actually, I'm even seeing someone else already”, you blurt out, trying to make him more baffled and it works, he frowns and the look of confusion in his face is priceless.

“Well, that's great for you”, Seunghoon clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “We should definitely go on a double date sometime”

“Of course, I'd love that”, you nod, standing up. “I'll be going now, but it was great seeing you”, you lie, turning around and walking back to the gymnasium.

When it sinks in what you just did, you want to hit your head against the wall. What the hell was that? Why would you even tell him you're seeing someone when you're not? For fucksake, you're sure he's too proud to let this go, he'll try to find out who it is that you're seeing and when he finds out you lied, you'll be done for, faced with utter humiliation again.

“Why would you tell him you're seeing someone?” Mina asks, looking at you like you are the dumbest person alive, and honestly, you do feel like that at the moment.

“I don't know”, you cry out, “I guess I wanted him to feel miserable”

“And look where that got you”, Miyeon says, worriedly.

“I know, I'm an idiot”, you tell them and your friends nod, making you glare at them. “Well, I guess I'll just have to find a new boyfriend”, you say, dreadfully.

“You know it's not that easy”, Mina says, “you built Seunghoon from the scratch to the guy he is today, it won't have the same effect if you get just anybody that people already see everyday, it has to be shocking”

“Well, I don't know”, you sigh, “is there even someone like that here?”

“I don't know”, Miyeon says, “you need someone charming, someone who people can't take their eyes off”

“It won't be good if he's already known, it should be someone who's usually invisible”, Mina completes.

You sigh, there's only one person you can think of who instantly fits that description.

“What about him?” Miyeon takes you out of your thoughts, pointing to someone behind you. “Isn't he part of 3racha?”

“I mean, he fits what we are looking for”, Mina says.

You turn around, finding the guy you bumped on a few days ago sitting at the table behind you, you're sure you can remember his name if you just try a little harder. He's sitting with Changbin, the other guy from 3racha who is kind of your friend.

“But is there something for you to do there?” Mina looks at him with squinted eyes, trying to see how you could improve him.

“He's cute”, you check him out shamelessly, nodding to yourself.

“I'm not sure if you could make Seunghoon jealous with cuteness”, she shrugs.

“He's not just cute”, you bit your bottom lip, thinking hard. “He could use a different haircut and maybe a new wardrobe but I see a lot of potential in there”

“Well”, Mina sighs in defeat, “let's make a bet them”

“Are you in middle school?” You ask her, rolling your eyes.

“If you can make Seunghoon regret cheating on you, I'll give up on trying for cheer captain next semester”, she ignores your question, stretching her hand for you to shake it.

“As if you were going to win anyway”, you joke.

Of course she could win, Mina is your best friend and also the best dancer you know, she could easily steal your position if you didn't try so hard to keep it, so you do what you have to do, shaking her hand even though you don't have a good feeling about it.

It's been a few days since you decided to make Jisung your new boyfriend, you just haven't figured out how to approach him. For starters, you can't even find him in this damn university, how the hell can a member from a trio as popular as 3racha just walk around without being noticed? That's a mystery you'll have to solve later.

“Jisung? Why would you want me to set you up with him?” Changbin asks, confused.

“Well, I find him cute”, you shrug, that's not a lie.

“He's not your type, he's totally different from Seunghoon”, he stares at you with a brow raised, sipping from his drink.

“Why would I want someone like Seunghoon? My reputation is almost ruined because of that guy”, you say.

“You got a point”, Changbin sighs, “let me talk to him first”, he can feel something is up but with all the mess happening in his life already, he doesn't have the energy to dig any deeper.

Jisung stares at his friend for about five minutes, no words being said. Why would someone like you want to go out with someone like him?

He's pretty popular because of 3racha, but not near as popular as you or your friend group. Everyone knows he's an awkward guy, when he's on stage his personality changes, he's confident, it feels great, like he could conquer the world, but when he goes back to real life, he just doesn't feel the need to be perceived. Jisung doesn't have a reason to be popular outside of the stage, he's fine with being invisible.

“So, what do you think?” Changbin asks.

“I don't know”, Jisung shrugs.

“Think carefully, it's not everyday that someone like y/n wants to go on a date with an ordinary guy”, the older one insists.

Well, maybe he likes being ordinary. He always thought he wouldn't be like those guys who would do anything for a pretty girl, now it's his chance to prove it.

“You can tell her that I appreciate the thought, but I don't think it's a good idea”, Jisung says, confidently. Even though he wants to punch himself after saying it.

Changbin sighs.

“If you're sure about it”, he shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

What if he's just letting his prejudice get in the way of meeting someone nice? He sighs to himself, there's nothing he can do about it now.

Well, that's unexpected. Did you go so low as to be rejected by just anybody? How could Jisung not even accept a single date with you? Are you ugly? No, you're sure it's not that. Are you boring? It's not that either, of course. You don't think there's a single thing that would make him turn you down. Maybe you're not his type? No, you're everyone's type.

You won't give up, though. Han Jisung has too much potential for you to just leave him be, you're sure you can make him be even better than Seunghoon ever was. So you march to social studies, you asked Changbin who reluctantly told you that Jisung takes that class.

You enter the classroom earning a few glances, smiling kindly at the people you know and introducing yourself to the ones you don't.

Jisung is seated in the corner, writing something on his notebook, earbuds on. You walk up to him, sitting by his side and waiting for him to notice you, which doesn't take long. He feels a presence too close to him, making him turn to look at you.

He frowns, taking his earbuds slowly, trying to process your present so close to him.

“How can I help you?” He asks and you tilt your head, he's even cuter up close.

“I heard you turned me down”, you say, leaning over the desk to watch him.

“Yeah, sorry”, he shrugs nonchalantly, hurting your pride even more. He should feel at least a bit apologetic, shouldn’t he?

“What do I have to do for you to go out with me?” You push more. You even came here looking for him, you're not going to be discouraged just by a bit of indifference.

“Why do you want to go out with me anyway?” He frowns, it’s not that he doesn’t want to say yes, it’s just that every time that he feels tempted to actually lust over you his pride gets a little more hurt, did you think there was no chance of you being rejected by him?

“Well, I like you. You're cute”, you tell him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“You don't even know me”, he scoffs, ignoring the fact that you called him cute.

“That's exactly why I want to go out with you, dummy. So I can get to know you better”, you smile, knowing he won't be able to get out of this situation without telling you why he won't go out with you.

“Well, you’re not my type”, he clears his throat, adjusting himself on his seat and trying to sound convincing, you’re clearly everyone’s type. “And I don’t think we would have much to talk about”

You’re going to fight him on this, argue that you’re a very interesting person that can talk about a lot of things, but the professor enters the classroom, eyeing you and tilting his head in confusion, since you passed this class last semester.

“I’m going to let it go for now”, you stand, “but don’t think you’re getting rid of me”, you huff, walking out of the class. He sure is stubborn, but you’re more.

Jisung feels like he's in those movies with a stalker following him around. You know, when the protagonist is sure that someone is watching them but every time they look around there's no one there? Except that in his case, you're always there. Every place he goes has you in it, glaring at him.

You're not actually glaring at him, even though he thinks you're. You're just shocked that he still hasn't come around to accepting going out with you, so you have to stare at him because you have to understand him. Why is he so different from the other guys? Of course you don't think you're better than anyone, but since news of your break up with Seunghoon broke out, your phone has been blowing up with texts from guys you didn't even know had your number, saying weird things and asking you out. So why is the only person you want to hear from, not giving a shit about you?

You ask Changbin's help but he refuses to meddle anymore than he already has, saying that he knows your intentions are not entirely good so he won't help anymore.

“Did you know we have a class with your new crush?” Mina says while looking at herself in the mirror of the clothes store you're visiting.

“What?” You take your eyes out of your phone to look at her, you have been staring at your screen for thirty minutes, trying to fight the urge to just call Jisung. He gave you his number so you could charge him with the repair of your broken phone but you already had it fixed, maybe you could use that little incident to your advantage.

“We have French with him, you chose Spanish, right?” Miyeon asks, looking around to see if she likes anything.

“Are you for real?” You ask and she looks at you, nodding. “Do you think there are still open spots in your class?” You ask, lost in thoughts.

“You're not going to switch classes just so you can get close to him, right?” Mina turns around to look at you, a brow raised in questioning. “Right?” She presses after you don't answer.

“I kinda prefer French though”, you smirk, standing up. “The school's office is still open now, isn't it?” You ask and both of your friends exchange looks, sighing and shaking their heads, sure that you're a lost cause.

It was not difficult to switch classes, you used up all your charm with the office’s secretary so she wouldn't argue too much about it. You just need a warm smile, some tiramisu and to compliment her nails.

You enter the class smiling victoriously, seeing your friends seated side by side and finding Jisung sitting alone in the back. You waltz over there, putting your things on the desk and sitting by his side.

Jisung takes a deep breath, side eyeing you for a moment.

“Are you serious right now?” He sighs, “you know you can't just keep coming to my classes, right? That's lowkey stalking”, he argues, making you chuckle.

“I don't know what you're talking about”, you shrug, “I'm enrolled in this class”, you tell him, pulling a paper with your schedule printed on it and showing it to him. “This is the only spot available”

He looks around to check, biting his bottom lip, embarrassed. He should have checked before assuming things but that doesn't change the fact that you have been around him too much lately.

“Okay”, he sighs, fidgeting on his seat.

“If I'm really making you uncomfortable I can find somewhere else to sit”, you say, even though you want to make him give in and accept to go out with you, you don't want him to feel genuinely bothered by you.

Jisung on the other hand feel likes he can give in at any moment, the second time he saw you looking at him he wanted to stand up and just go to you, telling you he would accept to go out with you, fuck his pride.

“It's okay”, he clears his throat, “You can sit whatever you want”, he says, making you smirk.

“I mean, are you sure?” You lean in his direction, glancing at his lap.

Jisung chokes immediately, coughing so much he thinks he's going to die, you didn't mean what he thinks you do, right?

Class starts before you can mess with him a little bit more, you didn't think you would have so much fun teasing someone.

Jisung stands up and leaves as soon as the professor says the class ended, he doesn't want to stay close to you for a minute more. He couldn't pay attention to class because your scent kept coming his way. He would glance at you and you wouldn't even be acknowledging him, paying 100% of attention in class. It did make him upset that he didn't seem to cause the same reaction in you as you do to him.

Except that, as stated before, you're very good at pretending. You really wanted to tease him every time you caught him staring at you, you could see everything he was doing with your peripheral vision and you wanted to giggle with every time he pouted while looking at you.

That's proof enough for you that not being his type it's not the reason why he's reluctant to go out with you but you didn't even think about the possibility of him not liking girls at all.

“As far as I know, he does like girls”, Changbin tells you. “I'm not sure about guys though, maybe he does too?”

“Well, that's good then”, you sigh, crossing your arms and nodding to yourself, lost in thoughts.

Changbin stares at you for a moment, with a brow raised. “Binnie, can't you help me out? Just this once” You plead again, giving him puppy eyes.

“Nope, I'm not sure what your intentions are but what I know is that you don't do things without a reason”, he shakes his head.

You sigh, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you know how to convince Changbin but it's the first time in your life that you have to resort to such dirty methods.

“You know, I met someone really nice one of these days”, you tell him, smiling friendly. “She's really cute and she has been helping me in a class we have together”, Changbin glares at you. “I think you know her, but she doesn't seem to like you at all…” You pout, making a show.

“What are you trying to say?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm trying to say that if you help me out, I can do the same”, you shrug, “you have so many virtues, Binnie, I'm confident I can make her see you in a different light”

You can at least try to convince her that Changbin is a good guy even though she's absolutely sure that he's bad news.

“Are you saying I should sell out my best friend so you can help me?” You see Changbin hesitate and that's when you push a little more.

“Come on, it's not like I'll do something awful to him”, you say, “I just want one date”

He sighs, nodding.

“Okay, alright”, he grunts. “I'll help you out just this one time and that's it”

“You're the best!” You say, clapping your hands excitedly.

This is definitely not how you thought the help would happen. The sun is burning your skin and the giggles of people around you are making you stressed. A pool party, why did he think this was going to be a good idea?

Just because you're at the same party as Jisung it doesn't mean you'll get a chance to talk to him or even accomplish your goal but even though the odds are against you, you are still going to try.

The day is too hot, the pool is bustling with people and you're uncomfortable in your bikini. In most days you love your body, you think you're pretty just the way you are but sometimes you have bad days, where you feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw you have.

You came to the party because you couldn't lose the opportunity but you can't see Jisung anywhere and your anxiety is only growing bigger. So as soon as you get the chance to escape, you do it. You wander around the frat house, looking for a place with no one, maybe Changbin's room is empty since he pretty much doesn't live in the house.

You walk up the stairs, swerving in the middle of the crowd who are talking and laughing with drinks in their hands, it's very overwhelming.

The corridor where the rooms are have less people, so you walk until the end to find Changbin's nameplate on the door. You knock twice to make sure there's no one there, the music in the pool is pretty loud so you can't hear if there are voices in the room but you wait a few seconds so people can get dressed if there is someone fucking there. You open the door slowly, finding the room empty. Hurrying inside and closing the door so no one sees you going in.

It's a pretty huge room with things that suit Changbin's personality to a T. There's gym equipment all over the place, a big bed in the middle, a door you can only guess leads to a private bathroom and a TV that you're not sure was ever used. But again, your friend only comes by the house once in a while since he lives in an apartment downtown with Chan and Jisung.

Changbin managed to convince Jisung that it would be a good way to promote 3racha if they threw a party and it didn't take much convincing to the frat president since that guy loves partying.

You sit by the bed, trying to take deep breaths. The burning sensation in your chest is easing a bit with the calm and silence of the room. Silence that is immediately interrupted by the door of the bathroom being opened, just to show a half naked Han Jisung coming out of there with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

You two stare at each other for a minute, both not sure what to do next, both frozen. You manage to stand up, turning your back to him, face burning with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know there was someone already here”, you clarify. “I- I knocked on the door”, you inform him as if that could change anything.

Jisung finds your reaction funny, he didn't take you for the shy type, who gets flustered by seeing a man like this.

“I was showering, I didn't hear the knock”, he says, walking to Changbin's wardrobe to get some clothes he leaves there for eventual emergencies since the frat house is closer than his house to the university.

“Yeah, I guessed that”, you gulp, trying to calm your beating heart. You didn't get to take a good look at him, but the little you did made you quite surprised. Jisung is pretty athletic and hot.

“You can turn around now”, he says. You do it slowly, still embarrassed.

“I'm sorry again”, you sigh.

“It's okay, it can happen”, he shrugs, sitting on the bed. He can't help but look at you too for a moment, you're wearing a deep green bikini that goes perfectly with the tone of your skin. You have a thin transparent shirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination making him bite his bottom lip. If you try to make a move on him again right now, he won't be able to say no.

However, his not very pure thoughts are interrupted by your uneasiness, shifting your weight from a leg to another, hands trying to cover your thighs. Did he look at you for too long? Did he make you uncomfortable? Jisung diverts his gaze from you immediately, he's always proud to say that he's not the same as the other guys who are just horny and nothing more, but look at him now.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable”, he stands up, ready to leave the room, “I'm sorry”

“No, you didn't make me uncomfortable”, you say, taking a step closer to him to stop him from leaving. “I was already feeling not great”, you clarify.

“Did something happen?” He asks, worried.

“No- I-”, you stop yourself from talking more, why do you actually want to talk to him about your problems? You don't even know him. “I'm having a bad day, my self esteem is kinda low so I feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw I have”

Jisung stops for a moment, malfunctioning. His head tilting to the side as he stares at you with furrowed brows.

“Exactly which “flaws” are we talking about?” He asks, making quotes with his fingers.

“I don't know”, you glance down to your feet, feeling embarrassed. “There are so many girls here who are much prettier than me”, you sigh, “oh, I'm not jealous of them, they are great. I'm a huge activist of women hyping up other women”, you add quickly. “Usually I won't let myself compare to other people, but when I'm having one of these days I just can't help to think things like: is my hair pretty enough? Should I go on a diet? Maybe I should hit the gym more often so I can look like that”, you sigh, you sound ridiculous. You are supposed to make him want to go out with you, not scare him with all your insecurities.

Jisung stares at you for a few seconds, realization hitting him. So you're human too, he already knew that, but seeing the pretty and popular y/n come out of the pedestal people built for her, makes him believe that maybe you're very different from what he thought about you.

“I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this”, Jisung clears his throat, trying to not sound like an idiot, “but I think you're pretty and even though you may have some flaws, everyone has. I can assure you yours are not in your looks”

You feel your cheeks growing hotter, that's surprising, a guy never managed to make you blush.

“But you said I'm not your type”, you pout, seizing the opportunity to tease him.

“Well, I had to say something so you would stop coming after me”, he sighs, “clearly it didn't work”

“So, will you go out with me?” You ask, hopeful and he sighs.

“Why do you want to go out with me so badly?”

“I already told you, you're cute. Also, you make me feel at ease”, it's not a lie. Jisung is the first person other than your friends that effortlessly makes you comfortable.

“Fine”, he huffs, “I already gave you my number so just text me”, he tells you and you smile, is this finally happening? Did he finally say yes?

You planned a whole date in an amusement park, it's cliche for a first date, although you never really went on a date there. You have never done this before for any guy you dated, but there's something about Han Jisung, you just want him to like you.

He's waiting for you in front of the park, looking nervous while scrolling through his phone. You bend down a bit, tilting your head to make him notice you.

“Hey”, you smile waiting for his greeting that doesn't come. Jisung is not easily impressionable but you just leave him speechless every time, he always takes a few seconds to take in your beauty before his brain starts functioning again.

That's the reaction you wanted from him and you are glad you managed to get it. You spent almost four hours getting ready, changed outfits at least ten times and did and redid your makeup over and over. In the end, you chose a natural look. You put on a tight high waisted skirt, a tank top and sneakers since you would be walking a lot. Your hair is down and your make-up is light, so it won't get smudged by hot weather.

“H-hi”, Jisung says, trying to recompose himself, he's not sure if he should comment on how pretty you look or if that would make you uncomfortable.

He can't help but think that it's wrong of him to be there with someone like you, someone totally out of his reach.

“What should we do first?” You ask excitedly, it's been years since the last time you went to an amusement park with your family.

“I think we can walk for a bit and see what catches our attention”, he says and you nod, walking into the park.

There are so many people, Jisung can't help but notice how you're looking around like a child getting to know a new place.

“Do you come often to these kinds of places?” He asks.

“Hm, not really”, you answer, turning around to look at him. “The last time was when I was a child probably”

“Oh?” He frowns. “You seemed excited, I thought your ex boyfriend must have brought you here at least a few times”

“Yeah, well, he was not really the romantic type”, you shrug, a sad smile on your lips.

Jisung doesn't like that, you always look confident and happy, he doesn't want to see you sad again.

“He is an idiot then”, he avoids your gaze, looking around while speaking, “If I had a girlfriend like you, I would move heavens and earth to make her happy”

You feel your heart skip a bit, your cheeks growing warmer and in a few seconds your whole face is burning. You can't believe Han Jisung is making you blush again, saying these words that are messing with your heartbeat.

“Should we go to the haunted house?” You ask awkwardly, trying to change the subject, pointing to the building at the end of the park. You try not looking at him, not sure if your cheeks are still red.

He hums, not really understanding why you look so flustered, he's sure you must hear this kind of thing all the time.

You two enter the house, looking around while walking into the dark. You were very confident in the beginning, you love horror movies, but jump scares are really not your cup of tea and that's the problem. The moment a doll(you assume) holding a knife with a ghost face mask pops out of nowhere you jump… into Jisung's arms. The way his arms immediately wrap around you in a protective position does something to your heart and honestly you feel hot all over.

You didn't even notice the little scares he got, or how he squeezed you every time some scary character showed up. The only thing you noticed was his unexpected strong arms embracing you the whole time until you left the haunted house.

Jisung didn't want to let you go. The moment he felt the cold breeze touching his skin, he knew he had to step back, you are not scared anymore. But he just doesn't want to. You look fragile, shy, endearing. Jisung shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking this, he thought he would be immune to your charms, but it turns out that he understands now why all those guys fawned over you.

He tries taking a step back, threatening to get away from you but you snuggle closer to him, a hand swinging fast to your shoulder so you could grip his hand in place.

“Can- can you keep holding me for a bit?” You ask awkwardly, not really wanting to look him in the eye.

You had no idea you missed being touched this much, you never noticed how cold Seunghoon’s touch was until you felt Jisung's warm hands on you. You're embarrassed for looking so fragile in front of him but not enough for you to let go, not at that moment.

“Yeah, sure”, he tells you, coming closer again and squeezing you against his chest. “Should we walk around for a bit?”

You nod, too lost in his scent to say anything.

Jisung felt strange for a moment. He's not used to letting his instincts take control, he's a very restrained guy. But he can't help but peek at your thighs when the skirt you're wearing rides up a bit, you're tiptoeing while trying to shoot the target with the water gun you have in your hands, like that would help you win.

“Do you really want that plushie?” He asks when you lose once more. “You could probably buy a better one with the money you're spending”, he points out and you pout.

“Where's the fun in that?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It's so much more exciting to win the prize”

Jisung finds you cute, you are just so different from all the rumors and how he thought you would be. Other than being someone who's high and mighty or arrogant, you're cute and funny.

Defeated, he sighs, paying for another round. This time he's the one trying.

It's difficult the first time. He never played this game so he has to get used to and understand how to win.

Jisung doesn't notice but you're not looking at the booth or to the target, you're looking at his face. He looks more handsome when he's focused, he has his lips pressed in a thin line and his grip on the water gun makes you shudder just thinking about how that grip would feel on you.

After a few tries, Jisung wins, asking you to choose what plushie you want.

“That one”, you point to the big quokka hanging in the wall. “It looks a bit like you”, you say when you get the plushie, lifting enough so you can compare it with Jisung.

“I'm cuter”, he pouts.

“Definitely”, you assure him, hugging your new plushie while Jisung’s ears grow hotter.

“Should we go to the ferris wheel?” He asks, looking at the time. It'll probably be your last ride since it's already late.

“Yes!” You jump excitedly, “I never had the chance before”, you say while you two walk in the direction of the big attraction.

“Not even when you were a child?” He asks, remembering you said that was the last time you went to an amusement park.

“My parents are not very fun to be around and my little brother was too young”, you say, shaking your head, “I was never very proficient in doing things by myself so I just didn't go”, you shrug.

Jisung feels that there's more to unpack into that topic, but he's not sure if you want to talk about it with him or right now. So he just slides his arm over your shoulder, surprising you by his bold move. You can feel your cheeks growing hot, are you blushing again?

When you hear the gears turning, excitement spreads all over your body but as soon as the cabin stops in the air, you're not so confident anymore.

“It's quite high, isn't it?” you say, looking down, feeling a little dizzy.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Jisung asks, panicked, seeing your face turning pale.

“No, of course not”, you shake your head frantically while shrinking in your seat, “I can't, I'm always at the top of the pyramid in our cheer stunts”, you tell him.

A sudden wave of air brushes over the cabin, making it shake slightly and you turn even more pale if that's even possible.

“You know it's different right?” He grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer to him. Jisung slides one of his hands on your waist, squeezing you close to him and with the other hand he cups your face, making you look at him. “Keep looking at me, you don't have to look down”

Jisung doesn't know why he feels this urge to protect you, of all the people he knows, you're probably the one he thinks needs the least protection. You keep staring at him, he is pretty, his lips are plump and inviting.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask when he licks his lips, huge doe eyes staring at him and waiting.

“Do you want me to?” He asks back, not really sure of what to do. Jisung is not certain, his heart is beating fast and his hands are sweating, you look so beautiful, so close to him.

So when you nod, he just loses control of every part of himself that was holding him back. He's sure after this, there's no going back, he's lost forever, but maybe he doesn't mind if it means it's you he's lost in.

His lips are soft, clumsily pressing against yours. You can tell he's unsure of how to proceed then why does his grip on you make you burn? He's squeezing your waist against his body like you're going to disappear if he doesn't hold you strongly and the hand he has cupping your cheeks, slowly slides to your hair, pulling it lightly, making you whimper.

In an instant his lips are not on yours anymore, he's trailing kisses down to your neck. You shiver, feeling his warm lips against your cold skin.

“Ah, Ji-Jisung”, you gasp when he bites your neck, sucking the area so deliciously it makes you bite your lips so you won't moan.

He hears your plea, kissing you once again and you notice you are the one that didn't know how to proceed. You've been squirming in his hands this whole time without touching him at all. You take a hand to his face, caressing his cheek and the other goes to his hip, pulling you even closer to him but before you can go further, the shake of the cabin going back down takes you out of your haze. You're in public, you had absolutely forgotten about that.

You stop the kiss, giving a peck on his lips before moving away. He looks disheveled, lips swollen and eyes searching for yours in an attempt to know exactly what you are thinking. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Now that he got a taste of something he should have remained oblivious to, he's not sure he'll be able to let go.

The ride home was awkward, to say the least. You are silent the whole time and Jisung is freaking out. He can't help but think he screwed up really badly. How the hell could he make you lose all interest with just a couple of kisses? Did he go too far by giving you a hickey? Maybe you don't like this kind of thing, you're a cheerleader after all, your image is important.

You on the other hand, have too many thoughts running through your mind, never did a man make you feel so desired with just a kiss. The way he embraced you so possessively was too much for you, Seunghoon never did anything like that. You were always the one searching for his touch, for some affection but it was never quite enough. His touches never really gave you what you wanted, you always thought it was weird, you thought maybe there was something wrong with you.

But how could Jisung make you feel so many things with a simple touch? A simple kiss? You're so lost in thoughts that you don't even notice when the car stops.

“We’re here”, Jisung says, not really looking at you.

You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip while squeezing the wheel.

“I had fun”, you tell him, shyly. His head snaps at you, a deep scowl on his face.

“You did?” He asks confused and you giggle, tilting your head.

“Yeah”, you bite your bottom lip, leaning over him without breaking eye contact. “I thought I made it clear by almost melting in your arms while you kissed me”, you tease, seeing his ears growing red.

“I thought maybe I did something wrong, you were quiet”, he looks at you waiting for some more reassurance.

“I'm sorry”, you cup his face, caressing his cheek, “it's been a long time since I felt the way you made me feel, I needed time to recover”, you tell him, pulling him in for a brief kiss.

“Wait, but what about-”

“That's what I'm telling you”, you chuckle, bitterly, “can you imagine feeling more in a night than you ever felt in a year with someone else? It really makes a girl think”

“Ah”, he nods, understanding what you're saying now. “Then, can I call you when I get home?” He asks eagerly, now that he knows that you did enjoy your time with him.

“I'd be mad if you didn't”, you give a peck on his lips, getting out of the car and walking to your front door, waving goodbye to him.

Walking into your empty house you come back to reality. For a moment, just a moment, while having fun with Jisung, you forgot how lonely you really are. It's always been like this, you're already used to it.

Your parents always wanted a boy, so it was disappointing for them when they had a girl. They tried for years to have a boy, getting more and more frustrated as time went by. You were five when they finally made it, their desired son was born and you were left aside.

It's not like they gave you any attention before, but after your brother was born, you were completely forgotten. The first time you went to an amusement park was when you were eight. It was your birthday and you begged them to take you there but in the end you couldn't really enjoy anything. Your brother was too little to play in anything and your parents didn't really want to play with you.

You feel a single tear run down your cheek but you shake your head, you shouldn't be doing that right now. You had fun with Jisung but that's that, you don't want another heartbreak the same as with Seunghoon.

You feel your phone buzzing, taking it out of your pocket to see Jisung's name lightening the screen and an involuntary smile grows on your lips, completely ignoring what you just thought.

“Hey, did you arrive safely?” You ask, walking up the stairs.

“Yeah”, he says, not sure why exactly he wanted to call you. He already said goodnight to you, did he want to hear your voice again? Why is he being so weird tonight?

“Okay, that's good”, you chuckle, putting the phone on speaker to start undressing.

Jisung sits in his bed, he knows you're probably tired but he doesn't want to hang up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, hearing the shuffle on the other side of the line.

“I'm changing”, you answer nonchalantly, not knowing how red his whole face turns the moment you finish saying that.

He doesn't say anything, making you look to the phone to check if he's still there.

“Want some pictures?” You ask playfully, making him choke on his own breath, coughing violently.

“No, I mean we- we just had our first date- I- I don't want you to think- it's too soon”, he rambles saying all that in half a second, making you laugh genuinely while you wander around your room.

You snap a picture of yourself, sending it to him and he freezes when he sees the notification. When he opens the text though, you're wearing a cute pajama with bees stamped on it, making him laugh too.

“You're cute”, he says and you stop in your tracks.

“It's been years since someone last called me cute”, you pout, sliding under your covers.

Jisung guessed that much, your type of beauty is not on the cute side. You have sharp features, most people could say you're on the sexy side and he would too, before tonight. Now, under the cover of a popular hot girl, he found a girl who's hot and popular but can be cute and funny too.

“Goodnight, y/n”, he says, throwing himself back in the bed.

“Goodnight”, you say, feeling your eyes heavy after hearing his goodbye.

Part 2

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

You've always known that, but inside you there was a tiny bit of hope that one day he would wake up and suddenly love you back.

That didn't happen though. You are now 23 and he has never ever shown the smallest amount of romantic interest in you.

"That's fine", you thought to yourself, ever since you realized your feelings for him, "I'm going to stay with him his entire life, that doesn't sound so bad"

Until it started to sound really bad. What are you gonna do? See him getting a girlfriend, then getting engaged and eventually married? Would you always be there on the sidelines listening to his lovesick whines about the woman he loves so much? Would you be the godmother to his children? By then, would you have gotten over him already? Or would you keep this up forever, marrying someone just because you can't stay alone and being in love with your best friend for the rest of your life? That was the moment you knew you had to stop, you can't keep this up.

Coincidentally Han broke up with his last girlfriend a few months ago, you thought that would be a good opportunity for you to be his rebound, yeah, pretty dignified of you.

So you dress up really pretty, hair up, a dress that always made Han compliment you and to finish it off—the necklace he gave you on your 12th birthday.

You think this is it, this is the day you're going to tell him how much you love him and maybe, just maybe he will contemplate giving you a chance.

When he arrives at your shared apartment, with two cans of beer and fried chicken, you give him a cheerful greeting, setting the table and trying to gather courage to speak.

"So, how was practice?", you begin, maybe some small talk will help you relax.

"It was good, we are almost done with the album", he says, typing something on his phone. "How was your day?", he asks, putting the device on the table and looking at you.

"Good, I had class in the morning and tutoring in the afternoon", you take a sip of your beer, "one of the mothers actually recommended me to other parents and I'm gonna start tutoring more students next week"

He smiles, "that's good, you're really smart"

You blush, bringing the back of your hands to your face to try and lessen the hot skin of your cheeks with the cold of your hands.

"Actually, I want to talk to you", you start, it's now or never.

"Sure-", Jisung stops mid sentence when his phone buzzes. "Just a minute", he looks at the screen and smiles, your heart sinks at the sight. You know that smile too well, you have seen it dozens of times. You feel your insides turning over. It's the smile meant only for the person he likes.

"Hey, Lia. Yeah, totally, I can talk right now", he picks up the call and once again asks you for a minute lifting his index finger, he walks towards the balcony and closes the glass door after going through it.

He's laughing about something, is she even that funny or is he just trying to win her favor? She's pretty, you know it. All of his girlfriends looked like models. You sigh, looking at yourself and feeling awful, suddenly you don't feel pretty anymore, you actually feel ridiculous.

Why did you think things would change just because you got brave enough to speak up? Jisung sees you as a best friend and nothing more, you have to come to terms with that.

Your mind is rushing, thinking about what you're going to do now? Can you keep being friends with him? Yeah, of course, he's your best friend, you won't end your friendship because you can't control your feelings. But you'll need time, right? You won't be able to get over this unrequited love if you keep seeing him everyday, doing everything with him and sleeping in the same house.

"So, what do you want to talk about?", he asks, sitting again. You didn't even notice he had come back inside.

You sigh, you'll tell him about it all and then you'll find the strength in you to move on.

"I like you", you say so low you're not sure he heard you. But he did, he smiles and chuckles.

"I like you too, we're best friends for a reason", he stretches his arm to take a fried chicken.

"No, I like like you", you admit, hugging yourself, feeling cold suddenly, you look around and see Han left the door to the balcony open. "I've been in love with you since I can remember", you complete.

The look on his face would be funny if it wasn't tragic, his brows are furrowed in confusion and his eyes have a very familiar look: fear. Of course, he's afraid of losing his best friend, you already guessed that much.

"Y/N I-", you notice his breathing quickening. "I'm sorry, I never knew", he says, shoulders slumping, his arms dropping to the side of his body.

"Yeah, I know you didn't", you say. He's still staring at you with so much hurt in his eyes. Jisung knows he will have to turn you down and it's going to hurt him a lot, but not as much as it will hurt you and he never ever wanted to hurt you. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say", he takes a deep breath, "I never thought about you in that way, I'm really sorry, I don't feel the same"

You're not going to cry, you decided that the moment you saw fear in his eyes. It's not his fault you like him, he can't fall in love with you just because you love him. You're not going to cry and make him feel worse than you can tell he's already feeling. But listening to those words it's worse than you could have expected, you feel like the world is crumbling around you.

"I know you don't", you smile sadly.

He looks more confused now.

"Then, why did you tell me?"

"It's just… I'm done with all this", you reply, getting up from your chair.

"Done with our friendship?" Han can feel all the air leaving his body while he waits for your answer.

You chuckle, fidgeting with your foot.

"No, I don't think I could ever be done with that", you smile trying to reassure him and he feels so relieved. "I can't keep doing this, I can't continue seeing you with other people and stay hurting alone"

"I can stop bringing people to the apartment and I'll never talk about them around you", he says trying to help and your stomach sinks a lot more. Why does he have to be so sweet?

"Actually, I'll need some time", you clear your throat, "I think I'm going to stay with Seungmin for the time being, he is looking for a roommate"

Han's eyes widen and he gets up, walking towards you.

"What are you talking about? Are you going to move out?"

"It's not something definitive, I'm going to stay there until he finds a new roommate and come back after that", you take a step back, noticing how close he is to you. "Luckily by then I'll be over you, I think I just need some personal space for now, where you're not there everytime I look, or your things aren't mixed with mine or your scent isn't around every room"

"Will you still speak to me?", he asks, he wants to hug you, to hold you in his arms and say how sorry he is for not feeling the same. But he knows he can't, the best thing he can do is to keep his distance from you right now.

"I think we should keep it restricted to apartment things for now, I'll keep paying my half of the rent since my things will still be here"

"You don't have to pay if you're not here"

Ever since Jisung started making good money he insisted that you didn't have to pay for rent since you only work part time as a tutor to pay for your living expenses but you always refused. Even though he earns a lot more than you it wouldn't be fair for him to be the only one paying and honestly, you felt that if he was the only one paying for it, you would feel too much like you were a couple.

"No, I'll pay you. This arrangement doesn't change the fact that we still share the apartment"

He nods, looking down, the awkward silence making you sick.

"I'm really sorry I hurt you", he whispers and all the crying you avoided over this whole conversation threatens to come out at that exact moment.

"It's not your fault", you say, "I'm sorry I made things awkward, just give me some time and we'll be back to how things were, okay?", you give him a reassuring smile even though you're not sure things will ever go back to the way it was.

You wake up feeling like shit, you cried your eyes out the moment you stepped into Seungmin's apartment. He was so sweet to you, staying awake until you calmed down and even offered you his room for you to sleep but you refused. He was already doing you a favor by letting you stay on his couch until he found a roommate.

You sit, stretching yourself, you slept pretty comfortably but all the stress from last night left your muscles sore.

"Are you feeling better?", you hear Seungmin's voice and look at the kitchen, he's making coffee. That reminds you of all the days you woke Han up with a nice and hot coffee so he wouldn't be in a bad mood waking up so early.

"I don't think so", you answer, shaking your head like that would make your thoughts disappear. "Can you get me some of that?", you ask and he smiles.

"Already on it", you start tidying up the blanket and the pillow you used.

"What are you going to do today?", Seungmin asks while you sit at the table.

"I have some tutoring to do and class in the afternoon, maybe I'll go shopping with Hannah later"

"That's good, try to keep yourself entertained at least for the next couple of days", he hands you the mug and you nod.

All your friends knew about your crush on Han and you made all of them swear they wouldn't tell him. You were afraid things would be awkward now, since Han was their friend before you met them, but they all showed you support now that you had confessed.

Hannah had offered you to stay with her, but she has a roommate that's really strict about everything in their apartment and you don't want to cause trouble to your friend by staying there. Luckily Seungmin's last roommate had moved a couple of weeks ago and he was looking for someone new, but by the way he's picky that's not going to happen so soon.

"Since I'll be staying here and you won't accept money because I won't be using a room, the groceries will be on me and I won't accept no for an answer", you say finishing your coffee and getting up. Seungmin sighs, rolling his eyes.

"I know you're going to buy it anyway, so I'll accept it"

"Then send me a list of whatever you need and I'll buy it tonight or tomorrow", you blow him a kiss, picking your bag from the floor and heading to the bathroom.

You take a long, hot, refreshing shower and pick some comfortable clothes to go to your tutoring session.

Seungmin's already gone when you go back to the kitchen, there's a message from him on your phone.

Minnie: I left some sliced fruit in the fridge for you, eat before going out.

Minnie: I'll send you the list later btw

You smile, having someone taking care of you is nice. For a second, it makes you forget the reason why you're there to begin with.

You feel like crying again, but you can't show up to your students house with red eyes and a puffy face.

The parents that are near each other usually ask you to teach their children together in longer sessions. That strengthens the bond the kids have while strengthening the connection between the families. That usually happens when the families are wealthy, they see an opportunity in their children's friendship to get on each other's good side.

Your parents started hanging out with Jisung's parents too, not because of connections but because you two were always in each other's houses. Once, you broke your arm falling from a tree you tried to climb following Han, his mother had to call yours and calm her down on the phone the entire time your mother was driving to the hospital to meet you. That day you got scolded by both and after they finished the lecture they looked at each other and smiled, bonding over the fear of something happening to their precious child.

When they went out to buy some coffee and talk, Jisung sat by the side of your hospital bed, lips pouting and tearing up.

"I'm sorry I dared you to follow me all the way up there", he says, taking the hand of your good arm and holding it.

"It's okay, now at least I have an exciting story to tell the others", you say and he smiles, whipping his eyes.

The noise of the gate opening wakes you up from your daydream, you have to stop thinking about Han if you want to get over him.

The kids come running in your direction the moment the housekeeper opens the door.

"Miss Y/N, look I got a 9.5 on my test", the girl smiles brightly showing you the paper with the grade marked in red.

"Woah, Misu, you're so smart, I don't think you even need me anymore", you bend to her height and she pouts, sometimes she acts like a little child when she's already 12.

"Of course I need you, you're the prettiest and smartest person I know", she says and you hear someone clear their throats by the stairs. It's Misu's mother.

"If I didn't agree with her I'd be hurt", she says and you smile.

"Good morning, Mrs. Kim, I only helped a little, Misu's really smart", you say and the girl shows you her white teeth, looking at her mother and waiting for some praise.

"Of course she is", she pats the girl's head. "Eun, aren't you going to say hi to Y/N?"

The boy is a few months younger than Misu but a lot more shy. You saw him coming with her when you arrived but got so engrossed in your conversation that forgot he was there in silence.

"Hello, miss Y/N", he says, polite as ever.

"Hi, Eun, did you get a good grade like Misu?"

He nods, showing you his test with 9.8 marked in red.

"He's smarter than me", Misu pouts.

"Congratulations, Eun", you say, patting his head, making him blush and you smile. "I think you are both really smart and I'm here to help you get even smarter"

Mrs. Kim tells you to go ahead and start the lesson and invites you to stay for lunch. You were pretty lucky with the parents you met till now, all of them were nice to you and cared a great deal about their children so it's a lighthearted job to do.

The kids are indeed smart, usually you don't have to explain the same thing more than twice and they always ask a lot of questions during your time with them.

A week goes by since you last saw Jisung, fortunately he didn't try contacting you. You're sure that if he did you'd break hearing his voice and would beg for him to like you back, giving up on any pride you still have left.

You arrive at school an hour before your classes begin, you're meeting Hannah at the cafe nearby so you can talk a bit.

You look at your phone, there's a message from her saying she's on the bus but the traffic is awful so she might be a little bit late.

You choose a table by the window, contemplating if you should order already or wait till Hannah arrives.

Looking outside, you remember the moment you heard the news that you got into this university. Yours and Jisung's family were at your parents house, you both were seated on the couch when you received the message saying the college entrance results came out. You couldn't type your information, you were trembling so much Han had to do it for you.

When you read your name and the word "accepted" you actually screamed, making your mother drop the plate she had in hands. Your father and Han's came running to see what happened when Jisung showed them the screen.

Your mother and father embraced you, telling how proud they were of you and Jisung's parents did the same, like you were their own daughter.

Jisung wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you and making you burst out laughing. That moment was so good, you wanted to stay there forever.

"Earth to Y/N", you hear Hanna's voice and snap out of your thoughts, sighing. "Is everything okay?", she asks, worried.

"Yeah, I'm good", you say and she narrows her eyes, knowing you are not telling the truth.

Hannah left it at that though, you are going through a hard time and she doesn't want to push it.

Honestly, she don't expect you to be fine. Your lifelong crush had rejected you and to make things worse he is your best friend, so yeah, of course you are not okay.

"Then, I'm going to order", she drops her bag in the seat in front of you, "your usual?"

You nod, seeing her walk to the cashier. You met Hannah three years ago, when you started college. She's the total opposite of you, really outgoing and a total social butterfly, it seems those are the people you attract seeing how Han is the same.

She sat by your side on the first day, making a random joke and making you laugh, that's how she became your best friend. You didn't even have to tell her about your one sided love, she had to see only one interaction between you and Jisung to know exactly what was going on.

She is the one that urged you to tell him about your feelings and was very adamant about you moving on from him, she couldn't let you waste all your 20's being in love with someone that didn't like you back… or not the way you wanted to.

"So, I heard about a party", Hannah says, putting the pager on the table and sitting in front of you.

"There's like a hundred of those, you have to be more specific", you joke and she rolls her eyes.

"You know that guy from English literature? The one that dyed his hair pink last semester?"

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to forget about him", you laugh.

When Yunho came to school with pink hair a rumor of him becoming an idol started going around, everyone tried to be nice to him and all that shit but it turned out he just lost a bet.

"He's hosting this party in like a really big fancy place to celebrate his graduation", she finishes.

"That's nice", you say, fidgeting with your fingers under the table.

"Hmmm, are we going to go or what?", she asks and you glance at her.

"Were we invited?"

"Ahm, you're hot and I'm hot, why wouldn't we be invited?"

You laugh, knowing what she's doing. Hannah is more sensible than you give her credit for, you really thought she would ask about everything that happened on that night, but instead she has been trying to distract you for the past week and that is really nice of her.

She smiles, seeing you smile. Hannah knows you never give enough credit to yourself, you never think you're pretty enough, funny enough, cool enough or smart enough even though you're those things and much more. She approached you on your first day because there's just something about you, something bright and cheerful. When people are upset, mad or sad you always do your best to make them feel better, so Hannah felt this was her time to cheer you up.

The pager buzzes on the table and she gets up, going to the counter to get your orders.

You look at her coming back with a big grin in her lips, handing you the coffee with a note glued to the cup sleeve.

"To the girl with the yellow cardigan, I see you coming here often and I think you're cute, maybe we can hangout sometime? If you're up to it, text me: xxx xxxx-xxxx"

You blush, looking at the counter and seeing the cutest guy looking at you with flushed cheeks. He's so red you can see it from where you're seated. He smiles waving at you and you wave back.

Hannah has one eyebrow lifted looking at your interaction and you feel your cheeks even hotter.

"So, are you going to text him?", she asks, reading the note and you sigh.

"I don't think so", you say, sipping at your coffee.

"Why not?"

"I don't think it would be fair to someone if I start something with them when I'm still in love with someone else", you answer and Hannah sighs.

"Yeah, you have a point", she pouts, "but like, maybe messing around a little won't hurt? I mean, he's not in love with you or anything, you can talk with each other and see where things go"

Hannah's right and you know it. Even though it's still too soon, you should try meeting new people, you're not going to get over Han just by staying away from him.

This feelings, you have it with you for so long, it's hard to let it go. Loving Han is the only romantic feeling you have ever known, it's scary to walk off of this thing you know so well  to something completely new.

You have to, though. It's the only way for your friendship to keep existing. So you nod to Hannah, taking your phone out of your pocket and dialing the number written on the cup, seconds later you're typing a message.

You: Hey, it's the girl in the yellow cardigan, my name is Y/N btw

You send and hear a ping, you thought he would have his phone on silent mode and sudden embarrassment creeps up when you see him taking his phone out of the pocket of his apron.

Cute guy: Hey, I was afraid of making you uncomfortable, so let me apologize first. I just didn't know how to approach you

Cute guy: Ah, and I'm Heeseung

You change the name in his contact before replying.

You: it didn't make me uncomfortable and thank you for calling me cute.

Heeseung: you don't have to thank me for telling the truth.

You giggle, it's interesting to feel like this, even though you can tell it's something temporary.

You: lol, you're really smooth.

"Let's go?", Hannah says, smirking at you and you blush. You nod, picking your things up and getting up from the table, you wave goodbye to Heeseung before going out and he smiles brightly at you.

>><<

The morning after you went away, Han woke up feeling awful, all the things that happened the previous night coming back at him at the same time. He was sure the moment you walked out of the door, giving him your best smile and trying not to cry was the saddest he ever felt in his entire life. You were his best friend, you were everything to him, he felt like shit because he never noticed your feelings. He doesn't know what he would have done if he knew, but maybe he could have been better, talking less about his relationships and especially not bringing his hook ups to the apartment.

He got up, feeling like crying everytime he had to pass by your bedroom door, knowing you were not there and wouldn't be for far too long, all because of him. The bell rings and he runs to the door, hoping it's you, hoping you'll tell him everything was a joke and that you didn't actually like him. Even though he knows you wouldn't press the doorbell since you know the password and he knows the hurt in your eyes when he said he didn't feel the same as you was no joke.

So it was no surprise when he opened the door and found Chan and Changbin there. They did tell him they were going to stop by in the morning to pick him up but with all the things that happened he just forgot about it.

"Are you okay? You look like shit", Changbin says entering the house.

Chan looks at Han, worried.

"Are you sick?", he asks, "where's Y/N?" He knows you wouldn't leave Han alone if he were sick, but you would have shown up already by hearing Changbin's loud voice.

"She's gone", Han says, running his hands through his hair.

"What do you mean?", Chan asks with wide eyes.

"She- she confessed to me and I turned her down", he says, maybe he should have told you he could like you back, that way he wouldn't be feeling this way and you'd still be there with him.

"Shit", Changbin says, his lips pressed in a thin line.

Han looks at the both of them, why don't they look surprised?

"You guys knew about it?" He asks, a little louder than his usual voice and the boys exchange a look. "Woah, thanks for the heads up"

He shouldn't be mad at them, it's not their fault, but he's already too mad at himself so he doesn't know where else to put the blame.

"It was not our place to tell you", Chan says.

"Does everyone know?", Han asks and Changbin nods, "so I was the only one? Am I dumb or something?"

Chan sighs, "it's not really your fault for not knowing, you probably are used to the way Y/N looks and talks to you because you're best friends since you were children, but to the people outside it is pretty clear from the get go that she likes you"

"But where did she go? Are you not friends anymore?", Changbin asks the difficult questions and Chan glares at him.

"She said she will be staying with Seungmin till he finds a roommate and then she's going to come back"

"She probably just needs some time", Chan says, putting a hand on Han's shoulder trying to reassure him, and he really hopes that's the case.

>><<

You've been texting Heeseung for a few days now and he's pretty nice, he's a dance major and works part time at the cafe to pay for living expenses the same as you do with tutoring.

Hannah had convinced you to go to Yunho's party and get wasted, saying you need the college life experience the most now that you had your first heartbreak but you don't want to think about that, you want to forget that you ever loved Han Jisung.

So you drink a whole bottle of wine before leaving for the party, Seungmin's coming with you and Hannah will meet you there. You are looking good, or maybe it's the alcohol that makes you feel good, your hair is down, you're wearing a black lace cropped top you borrowed from Hannah, with a much lower neckline than you are used to, high waisted jeans and black boots.

The party is already crowded when you and Seungmin get there and it's really a fancy place like Hannah told you.

"Let's grab a drink", you yell to Seungmin.

"You should drink water, you're already drunk", he demands and you show your tongue to him.

"Nooooo, don't be a killjoy"

He sighs, it's hard to convince you of something when you're sober, it's even harder when you're drunk.

"You can have a drink after you drink a cup of water", he tells you and you nod, sounds like a win win for you.

After drinking a whole cup of water you show it to him, waiting for a praise and Seungmin rolls his eyes. What are you, a 10 year old?

"Good job, now you can drink", he gives you a cup with something mixed in it, "but you have to drink some water for each drink you take, okay?"

"Okay, dad", you joke, sipping your drink.

Seungmin knows a lot of people at the party and you feel left out every time someone approaches him so you're really happy when Hannah shows up, with a much taller boy accompanying her.

"Look who I found", she says pointing at him.

"Heeseung?", you scream, startling Seungmin who's close to you.

"Jesus, Y/N, calm down", he says putting his hand over his ear, "I'm a singer, I can't lose my hearing", he says and you pout, whining an apology even though you know he's not really mad.

"I didn't know you were gonna be here", Heeseung gets closer to you, side eyeing Seungmin.

"I didn't want to come, Hannah made me", you tell him, "this is Seungmin, he's my friend"

He nods at the boy by your side, relaxing to hear you call Seungmin a friend.

"Hey, Minnie, let's go dance?", Hannah says and Seungmin narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"I don't dance", he answers, crossing his arms and she sighs.

"For fucking sake, just come with me", she says and Seungmin follows her without more questions, he knows too well not to mess with her when she gets angry.

"You look really pretty", Heeseung says, bending a little to lessen the difference in your height. You blush even though it's not as good hearing him saying that as it was when Han complimented you, but you're trying to get over that, aren't you?

"Thanks, you look hot too", you hiccup, you don't have a filter when you're drunk. He smiles, turning around on the table and pouring you a cup of water.

"Drink this, it's going to help", he hands it to you.

"Thank you, you're so sweet and handsome", you yell again but he doesn't flinch like Seungmin did.

"You can't keep saying these kinds of things and not want me to kiss you", he says and you smile, sly.

"Who says I don't want that?", the moment he comprehends what you just said his face reddens, and he thought he was being bold.

"Once you sober up we can talk about that", he tells you and you pout. You wanted to kiss him now, maybe if you did all the hurt you were feeling would go away. Maybe you just needed someone to make you forget about Jisung.

"But I want it now", you cross your arms, behaving like a child that didn't get their way.

"Do you like dancing?", he changes the subject. Your face brightens with his question.

"I LOVE dancing", you show him the choreography to queencard that's playing on the dance floor and he laughs at your messy steps, he's sure you're much better at it while sober.

"Then drink this and let's dance", he hands you another cup of water.

"Seungmin told me I could have a drink after a cup of water, but this makes two cups of water and no drink", you point out and Heeseung can't help but find the drunk you really cute.

"This water will help you so you won't have a bad hangover tomorrow", he says and you nod, that's a good point.

Super by seventeen starts playing and you finish downing the water, grabbing Heeseung's hand and dragging him to the dance floor.

Being a dance major, of course he knows the steps and he's so good there are moments you just stop and watch him in a daze. Actually, he knows the steps to every song playing after that too, you dance so much you're all sweaty and your legs are tired. You're totally sober now, feeling ecstatic. It's so good being at a party having so much fun.

You're jumping and smiling until you see him.

You stop in your tracks seeing Han Jisung staring at you from the other side of the dance floor, your smile fades away as soon as your eyes lock with his.

He looks sick, he lost a lot of weight considering the short period of time you haven't seen each other and he wasn't smiling like he always did. He takes a step in your direction and you automatically step away, your stomach sinking.

You're feeling your heart beat so fast it's overlapping with the loud music, you gulp feeling your legs weaken, why the hell are you having this reaction? He's the same Han Jisung you've known since you were a child, the only difference now is that he knows how you feel about him.

You can't avoid him until you get over your feelings, that won't work and you know it, you have to get used to being near him feeling nothing other than friendship, but you can't see him at that moment, you just can't. You're having fun, there's a handsome guy with you and you want to like him and not Jisung.

You grab Heeseung's hand and pull him away from the dance floor, walking outside so you can breathe some fresh air.

"Did something happen?", he asks, looking confused and worried.

"It just felt stiff in there for a moment", you say and he nods.

You didn't want to explain to him why you were not speaking to your best friend and how messed up your relationship with Han is right now. You want to forget about it and your way of doing it is right by your side, handsome and available.

"So, about that thing you said we could do once I sobered up… I'm sober now", you say and he blushes, analyzing you for a moment to see if you are telling the truth.

The last drink you took was more than an hour ago and you drank so much water after that, it's a miracle you still don't have to use the toilet.

"I don't want to do something you'll regret later", he says and you appreciate how considerate he is. But right now you don't want someone considerate, you want someone that'll sweep you off your feet and help you forget what you so desperately want to. So you get closer, caging him against the wall and tiptoeing, trying to get closer to his face.

"If you don't want to, it's okay. But if you're holding back because you think I'm drunk, I'm not", that was his cue to kiss you. His lips crashing sloppily onto yours, hands cupping your face then moving down to your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck trying to get closer than you already are. He's good, you've kissed enough people in your life to know that, yet you feel sick.

You feel bad and like a horrible person because you just know he can't compare to Jisung even though you never kissed your best friend.

You feel bad thinking about someone else while kissing Heeseung, he's so nice and sweet and you know he's not fooling around, if you give him the chance he's going to truly like you and you're only using him.

You step away sighing, seeing his brows furrowed and the confusion in his eyes.

"Was it that bad?", he jokes but you can see he's feeling hurt. "I'm not trying to brag, but I never got a reaction like that after a kiss"

You smile apologetically, looking for words to explain yourself.

"It was great and you're great", you begin, "I think you're too sweet, that's why I can't lead you on"

"What are you talking about?" he asks, even more confused.

"I'm in love with someone else and I know it sounds awful, I did try to get over him with you but I feel like you'll really like me if we don't stop right now and I'm not sure if I'll be able to be that person for you", you look at him, seeing the disappointment in his face. "I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person and you can hate me if you want"

He stares at you for a few moments, sighing and giving you a reassuring smile after.

"I don't think you're terrible, I think you're truly brave for coming clean like that", you're relieved, you were afraid he would say something mean and even though you feel like you deserve it, you're really fragile right now. "Thank you for telling me before I got too deep into this and I don't know, maybe we can be friends?"

"Absolutely, I would love that"

"So, do you want to go back inside?", he asks and you shake your head.

"I don't think so, I should probably go home", you say, you don't want to go back there to see Han again.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"It's okay, I'm going to text Seungmin and see where he's at but you can go inside, I'm going to stay here and get some more fresh air"

"Alright, I'll see you at the cafe"

You nod, seeing him walk away. Woah, you just let that masterpiece of a man go because you can't forget about a fucking unrequited love. You curse yourself, slapping your forehead.

After that, you text Seungmin telling where you are and asking where the hell he and Hannah went, sending the same message to her and waiting for their answer.

You sit on the grass, taking a deep breath. You feel a bit sick after seeing Jisung, you never thought you'd feel that way. Never in your worst nightmares did you think you would be afraid to talk to him, maybe you're scared of talking to him and feeling nothing, what if all of this was just in your head and you just needed some time apart to figure it out?

You hear steps close to you and pray it's not some horny couple trying to fuck near you, however, the moment you lay eyes on your best friend you actually wish it was a horny couple.

You get up in a jump, your stomach sinking and your head spinning. Why does it hurt so much suddenly? It feels like your chest is being torn apart and you can't do a thing to make it better.

Jisung looks worse up close, he has huge bags under his eyes and he's too pale.

You're worried about him, even though you can't have the luxury of that. Not when your insides are all messed up and you want to throw up. You walk past him without saying a word, you can't handle this right now, but he grabs your wrist holding you in place. You don't look at him, staring at the floor trying to get out of his grip.

"I miss you", he says and your heart drops to your stomach. Why is he doing this to you? It's not like being apart from your best friend is fun to you. "Can't you look at me?", he pleads but you can't find the courage to do that yet. "Please", but he sounds so desperate, you force yourself to do it.

You look at him, he's obviously drunk. Who the hell let him drink this much?

"What is it?", you sound more spiteful than you were planning and his eyes widen, releasing your arm from his grasp.

"Do you hate me now?", he asks and you sigh.

"Of course I don't hate you, you're my best friend", you say that but for some reason it doesn't feel right, it doesn't sound like the truth.

"Can't you come back home? I feel like shit everytime I wake up and you're not there"

"I told you I need time", you say, running your hands through your hair.

"Are you going to forget about me by fucking some random dude?", he asks and you glare at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't understand how that's any of your business"

"It is, because you told me you love me but you act like you never want to see my face again", he scoffs.

You feel mad, what's he trying to say? Should you keep hurting just because you love him?

"I can't sit around forever, waiting for you to look at me", you say and he steps closer to you.

"I'm looking at you right now, I- I'll be good to you, I'll like you back", the moment he finishes saying that, you can't control the tears running through your eyes.

Is that supposed to be good? He would be forced to date you so he could have you close to him?

"Why are you doing this to me?" You ask and he takes a step back startled with you tears, suddenly sobering up, "it's not easy for me to be away from you, you're my best friend, but I do have some bit of dignity left in me and I won't accept less than I deserve, even if that less is the man I love with me", you wipe your tears seeing him step closer, trying to reach your hand and you step away, "don't come close to me right now, I could never stay with you knowing you don't love me, you should know that"

You turn around trying to get away from him but stop on your tracks seeing Hannah, Seungmin, Chan and Changbin right there looking at you awkwardly. Of course, the humiliation is the cherry on the top. You pass through them feeling so embarrassed you want the earth to swallow you.

The ride home is awkward and silent. Hannah and Seungmin keep exchanging looks while you look out the window trying to figure how your life became this mess.

You really should have dated Jeongho when he asked you out in middle school, it was around that time that you realized you liked Han more than just a friend—when Haneul asked to be his date to the school festival and you wanted to punch her so hard. Maybe if you had dated that boy at that time you would have forgotten the feelings you had for your friend, maybe you would have brushed it off as some childhood crush, but no, you rejected Jeongho while Han went with Haneul to the school festival and you third wheeled the whole event earning nasty glances from her every time your best friend played two times the same game so he could win you a plush too.

Back then you still thought everything would be okay, if only you had him everything would be okay.

You start bawling without notice, crying so much you can't even breathe. Seungmin stops the car and Hannah gets to the back, hugging you and caressing your hair while whispering that everything will be fine and you really want to believe her.

You don't know how you got into Seungmin's apartment, you guess he carried you inside after dropping Hannah home but you're not sure. It's sunday so he's not up yet for you to ask and it doesn't actually matter, what matters is the absolutely pathetic scene you made at the party and in the car. You want to bury yourself into a hole and never come back, how the hell are you going to face your friends after they saw you being humiliated by Han like that?

You know he was drunk, of course he was. You know he didn't mean it, he was hurt and drunk and people act on feelings not reason when they are like that. But does he think you have no pride? Does he really think you would date him knowing he doesn't like you back?

It's different when you confessed to him, you knew he didn't like you that way. But if he told you that there was something there, that he was not going to promise you anything but someday he may like you back, that's all you needed to hear. However, that didn't happen. He told you with all the words that he doesn't like that way, that he doesn't feel the same way as you do, there was no room for interpretation, no room for what if's.

You get up, in need to distract yourself. This week is going to fly by, you have tutoring lessons using up all your free time so you just have to get through the day.

There are a lot of messages on your phone, you really don't want to read them because you know that other than Hannah's, it's awkward comforting words from your other friends.

Hannah: call me when you wake up

Hannah: let's go eat something delicious, what do you think? It's on me.

Hannah: are you still not up or are you ignoring me?

You: I just woke up, calm down girl

You: why would I ignore you though? I just have to brush my teeth and eat something then I'll call you.

Binnie: morning babes

Binnie: Hannie is such an asshole

Binnie: I'll date you if you want, you're hot it's a win win for me

You chuckle to Changbin texts, he's so sweet in the weirdest way.

You: I mean, you're hot too

You: I think we'd make an awesome couple

Chan: good morning, Y/N

Chan: we didn't hear anything last night, so please, don't be awkward or embarrassed around us.

You: good morning Channie, I know you heard

You: you should have matched your story with Changbin before texting me though

You: it's okay, alright? Of course I'll be embarrassed for the time being, but we're friends I won't be embarrassed forever.

You leave your phone on the couch and go to the bathroom. You look like shit, smeared makeup, hair disgusting and you're still wearing the same clothes. You turn on the hot water, taking your clothes off and entering the shower, the warmth embracing you as you feel more relaxed.

You put on something comfortable, it's Sunday, you're going to ask Hannah to come by and you're going to order takeout.

You call her number while eating because you know she's anxious.

"Hey babes, good morning", she picks up, cheerful as always.

"Good morning", you say, biting the toast you just made.

"So, what about going out and eating something really good?", she asks.

"Hm, I'm actually not in the mood to go out? Can't you come by, we order something and watch that movie you've been bugging me for the last month?"

"Yeah, sure. We can do that", she answers and you are happy she doesn't sound upset or disappointed. With all the shit you're pulling lately you're scared your friends are going to get tired of your bullshit and stop talking to you. You used to think no one wanted a friend that's always crying and whining, but they showed you that real friends help each other.

"So what time are you gonna come?"

"I will just take a shower and wait for the bus, so in maybe like an hour?", she guesses and you nod forgetting she can't see you.

"Okay, see you then"

You decide to clean the house while waiting, Seungmin is pretty organized and clean so there's nothing too difficult. You'll just wash the dishes and vacuum a little.

Hannah arrives later than she predicted, Seungmin is already up and cleaning his room. He scolded you because it's his day to do the dishes and you shouldn't have done it because it's not fair to you.

You think he's being extra nice to you because of what happened the night before and it's true, he was really scared when you cried in his car.

He has known you for almost five years and he never saw you cry like that, even on the night you came to his house after confessing to Han you didn't cry like that. This time was different, you had a soul crushing cry, he wanted to stop the car and go to the back to hug you the same as Hannah, but he knew you were already being comforted by the perfect person.

Han is his friend, he could never choose between you two. But he couldn't deny it, that was a dick move, how could he ever say that to someone that likes him? He basically told you that he could pretend to like you if you stayed with him.

And of course, Seungmin understands the fear of losing a friend, but doing what he did just increases the chances of you never wanting to see his face again.

You are seated on the couch, watching the movie Hannah is obsessed with at the moment. She already watched it five times alone and asks anyone she can find to watch it again with her, she even repeats some sentences together with the characters.

The pizza you ordered is almost gone, you didn't know you were so hungry until the smell hit your nose. Luckily or thanks to Seungmin and Heeseung, your hangover is not that bad and you want it to stay that way so you keep drinking lots of water.

You got through the day thanks to your friends, they kept you entertained the whole time so you wouldn't overthink or even think about Han.

You are doing that just now, looking at the ceiling in the dark room. You want it all to be a dream, maybe you would wake up tomorrow and still be in middle school, you'd take the opportunity and get over him at that time, that would have spared you of some big problems.

----------------

Meanwhile, your clit is starting to pulse behind several layers of clothing. The buzz you’re feeling isn’t helping, effects of weed and alcohol doing nothing other than making you hornier and hornier by the minute. Jisung’s running mouth may have flipped your focus, but the intense horny ache that comes out of nowhere every time you smoke isn’t new. Nonetheless, you settle on trying to ignore your best friend, scrolling through your contacts instead. You’re searching mindlessly for someone to text that might be able to come and give you and your pussy some attention. Unfortunately, it’s mostly ineffective because Jisung just keeps rambling on, whining about how if he doesn’t get to eat some pussy soon, he will absolutely wither away.

“Wait,” he pauses, face scrunched like he’s in the middle of some profound epiphany. “You have a clitoris.”

You choke, dropping your phone. It narrowly misses falling on your face and instead lands screen-down on your chest. “Uh, yeah? Girl. Clitoris. We were in the same sex ed course.”

“S’probably fat too,” he mumbles, ignoring you and sounding incredibly cringe while he’s at it. 

You fake gag. “That is none of your business.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, rolling over onto his tummy. The movement brings him closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you think your heart stutters in your chest. Normally something as small as that wouldn’t be so impactful, but you suppose the aforementioned substance intake might be the cause for that. 

“Aren’t you, like, goin’ through a dry spell right now or somethin’ too?”

“No,” you answer honestly, not sure why you haven’t shut him down yet. “I literally got fucked last week.”

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, socked feet swinging in the air as he nods. “You said he didn’t make you come though.”

“No,” you sigh, lowkey wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “He didn’t.”

“I could,” he says, calm and collected like he’s talking about the weather and not the possibility of getting your clit in his mouth. “‘M really good at it.”

You know. You’ve known Jisung all your life and the two of you have literally been inseparable since diapers. You were there when he went from nerdy and awkward to some weird version of attractive that is still nerdy and awkward, but also really fucking hot. Plus, girls on campus talk; the boys talk, too. It’s not hard to know what they say about Jisung. You can’t say you’ve never thought of him that way because that would be a lie; you’re only human and you have eyes. However, despite hearing about Jisung’s oral fixation and its medal earning techniques, pursuing him in any fashion has never been more than a fleeting thought. Until now. 

 “Friends don’t fuck their friends, Jisung.”

“Who said anything about fuckin’?” he asks, puffing his cheeks out like a squirrel. “‘M not lookin’ to get my dick wet! Except like, you’re really hot so I definitely wouldn’t say no, but I’m really just trying to eat some pussy. Please?”

The way he says it, nonchalant and mundane, does leave you reeling. Your intoxicated brain and throbbing clit tell you to pedal to the medal, pass go and collect two hundred dollars. What’s a little head between friends, anyway? It’s not like you have to touch him, you don’t have to let Jisung fuck you. He’s just asking for a taste of your pussy, just a little feel of your soft cunt on his lips; nothing too crazy, right? The rational part of your brain, which is – admittedly – a very tiny portion, is telling you to pump the brakes before you end up in a fender-bender collision of misplaced feelings and friendship. 

“C’mon,” he begs, big, brown eyes going wet. His bottom lip pokes out, looking oh, so plump and inviting. You watch with rapt attention as his little, pink tongue licks over it. He’s shameless, pulling out all the stops when he leans over to plant his face on your chest. 

“I know you want to! Look at this face; I’m so cute,” he whines, “Wouldn’t I be even cuter if I was making you come on it?”

You blink once, twice, three times.

“Please, please, please. Help me out here, bestie!”

You’re wet. Ridiculously so and ashamed that Jisung hasn’t even done anything beyond whining about how your cunt isn’t in his mouth yet. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. It should be pathetic. It is pathetic! Your cunt drools in your sweats anyways, soaking through your cotton panties and wetting your thighs. You’re ashamed that you’re wet over your best friend sounding like some pathetic virgin. It’s hot, though. Between Jisung’s whimpery voice and baby face, you’re not sure you have it in you to decline. In fact, you know you don’t. 

“Fine,” you groan, like it’s such a huge feat to let a gorgeous boy lick your pussy. Well, maybe it is when said boy is your best mate. “Please stop looking at me with those big fucking eyes of yours before I end up letting you get away with murder.”

He snorts in response. completely unattractive though your desire remains strong. He moves over you, pushing your legs to bend at the knee as he settles in front of you, sprung into action. Your own sock-clad feet rest on his thighs, toes curling into his joggers. 

“You’re g’na to let me murder your pussy,” he slurs with a childish giddiness, much like a kid on Christmas. He’s reaching for the waistband of your sweats immediately, not even bothering to ask you for permission. “God, I bet you taste so good.”

“Kind of tart,” you blurt, lifting your hips as he tugs. “Tangy? I guess.”

He pauses, gripping your sweats as they droop around your ankles. His pupils are so wide not that  his eyes look black, molten pools of heat that singe you at the nerves. 

“Fuck, you —,” he gulps, tossing his head back for a brief second. “Tasting yourself?!”

“Mhm,” you’re shy under his gaze, crossing your ankles once he gets your pants off. “Is that weird? I was just curious.”

“W-Weird?! No, that’s— that’s so hot,” he mumbles, licking his own lips. If you moved your feet up and inward, you’d feel how hard he is. Hard and leaking over a pussy he hasn’t even seen yet. 

“You’re so hot,” Jisung whines, hands fumbling for your panties this time. Only then does he notice how wet it is between your legs. “Goddamn. Knew I should’ve thought of this sooner.”

You’re not able to unpack that statement, not that you’d want to while you’re high anyway. Besides, you’re more concerned with the way Jisung’s hands are parting your thighs, palms adding pressure to the backs of them so you can’t close them and block his line of sight. He’s totally focused on your naked cunt, like tunnel vision, caught up in a hunger so visceral that it feels like being swept away in the undertow of a powerful wave. Slick clings to your labia and thighs, glistening and taunting him to have a taste. Embarrassingly, and in a matter of nanoseconds, Jisung’s pressed belly down on the mattress, nose buried in the junction of your thigh and groin as he inhales deeply. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, something wetting your skin as he speaks, “I’m drooling.”

“O-Oh,” you choke, cunt clenching around nothing, slick leaking out of your hole with the admission. “Jisung.”

“Smells s’damn good,” he slurs more, kissing at your arousal dampened thighs. You can hear his lips smack together in an attempt to really taste you on his tongue, but he doesn’t move to lick you for real. “I’m probably g’na come in my pants.”

He says it to himself, a bit quieter than he would if he was speaking directly to you, but you hear him anyway. You can’t help the way your breath stutters, catching in your chest at the visual that fills your mind. You think about maybe being able to return the favor, wonder if his cockhead is as leaky as your hole is. Would he taste as good as you think? 

He doesn’t let you fantasize for too long, drawing all your focus when he drops one of your thighs to hook his arm over it instead, hand resting over the soft skin of your belly and petting it gently. He kisses directly over your slit at the same time, trailing along the length of it eagerly. That lasts a few moments before the hand on your belly is reaching just a bit further, long fingers spreading the lips of your cunt just enough to reveal the one thing Jisung’s been after since the beginning. Just behind your labia, a little below the apex and tucked in the center lies your pudgy, swollen clit, just begging to be kissed and sucked on. 

“Holy shit,” he rumbles, dazed and hornier than he can recall ever being before. 

“Well don’t just stare at it!” you whine, belly clenching. “Do something, Sung. Please.”

“Am,” he assures you, speaking in fragmented sentences. “G’na suck it,” he sighs, lashes fluttering as his mouth inches closer.  “G’na suck this pussy so good.”

Time feels like it stops with the first touch of his tongue.  It’s wet, soaked in his spit as he drags it flat up the center of you. You’re too busy staring at the ceiling with heavy, pinched breaths so you don’t see his eyes rolling back in his head as he does it. You fight the rolling of your own as Jisung does it again, this time dragging his nose and his tongue through your folds. It feels so good that you can feel yourself melting into his sheets, arms eagerly hooking beneath your own knees to keep yourself open for him. 

“Hah,” you moan, nails digging into your own flesh. “Oh my God.”

“Mm,” Jisung hums, mouth full of pussy. His lips smack against your flesh as he licks his fill, savoring the taste of you. “S’good?”

“Uh-huh,” you sigh, tossing your head from side to side. Your thighs are quivering already and he’s barely done anything. “Mouth so— Oh, fuuuuck!”

You’re caught off guard by the near sudden suckling, realizing that your best friend has chosen to slurp your clit right into his warm, little mouth. And God, is it warm. Wet as hell, too. All that heat, wetness, and suction surrounding your swollen nub as Jisung’s mouth pulls at it gently. You swear you have to be dreaming, legs kicking slightly. No fucking way this is real. Despite how good those gentle suckles feel, nothing compares to the added flick of a sure tongue. When Jisung combines the two, coaxing your clit out from under the engorged hood, you feel yourself go cross eyed from how wrecked you feel under his ministrations. 

“Ji, Ji,” you pant, clit pulsing against his tongue, “Oh, your mouth,” you laugh, delirious with it. “So good, Jisung. Sooo good on my pussy.” 

“Yeah,” he pants, kissing your puffy clit while slipping lower. “Told you,” he mumbles, sliding his tongue into your entrance and still trying to talk, “Know how t’eat  pussy good.”

It’s inside you. His whole tongue. Wet and scratchy and shoved into your cunt so he can lick your taste out from the source. You can’t believe your luck, can’t believe how getting crossfaded while watching The X-Files turned into you getting the life sucked out of you through your pussy. You’re definitely not complaining though, not when you clamp down around said tongue and all you can hear is Jisung’s deep, broken moans; not when all you can feel are his soft cheeks against you and wet, devious mouth working you into a frenzy. He doesn’t even need to add fingers to make you say you’re going to come. 

“I’m gonna come,” you say sharply, trying to stay still. 

“Do it,” Jisung encourages, slurping at your labia. The skin stretches with his actions, bouncing back when its released. “Come on my face.”

“Oh, don’t,” you slur, twitching and reaching for something to hold onto and finding purchase in his hair. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.” 

Jisung can only grin evilly. 

“C’mon,” he teases, sucking your clit back into his mouth, rutting his hips against the mattress. “Use my mouth ‘n come.”

You are helpless to try, a slave to your own pleasure. Jisung’s words ring in your skull as you hold him still, rolling your hips and dragging your clit up and down the expanse of his tongue. He’s so good for you, letting you take control, moaning and groaning like he’s the one receiving the top-tier head of the century. In the end, yes — Jisung’s mouth is a force to be reckoned with, but it's the sight of those big, hershey kiss eyes looking at you reverently that does you in. They’re so big, brown and wet, adoration and lust swimming in them, that you can’t help but shake apart. Jisung groans heartily as your hands twist in his hair, tugging as you come, spilling warm and tangy all over his tongue. 

He licks until you’re kicking at him, trying to pull your clit away from his greedy mouth. When you look at him, his face is drenched in your cum from the apples of his cheeks to the lines of his jaw. You feel like your soul has left your body, but you’re still buzzing with want. Something lurking in your veins that you don’t have the higher function to dissect right now. 

“I—,” you pant, watching him lick the remnants of you from his face. A small grin graces your lips and you shake your head in disbelief.  “What the actual fuck, Jisung?”

“It’s just head,” he shrugs, “Fuck, your pussy though,” he sighs fondly, adjusting his dick. “Ten out of ten would eat again.”

There’s a pause then, a stretch of minutes that feel like the slow turn of cogs in a machine. Still high but coming down quickly, the two of you are left staring at each other, assessing the scene. You, still clad in your t-shirt and socks, and Jisung, still completely dressed. On a curious whim, your eyes drop to the hard length between Jisung’s legs and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious if he can use it well, too. 

“So,” you drawl, meeting his gaze. “Still not trying to get your dick wet?”

His cock jumps, ready and eager. “Uh, no. I’m definitely trying. I’ve been trying to get you on it for years,” he admits. 

You laugh. Of course he would admit something so important in the cringiest way possible. 

“You’re pathetic,” you tell him, tapping his boner with your foot. His lashes flutter again and you choose to file that away for later. “I still want you inside me.” 

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

Meanwhile, your clit is starting to pulse behind several layers of clothing. The buzz you’re feeling isn’t helping, effects of weed and alcohol doing nothing other than making you hornier and hornier by the minute. Jisung’s running mouth may have flipped your focus, but the intense horny ache that comes out of nowhere every time you smoke isn’t new. Nonetheless, you settle on trying to ignore your best friend, scrolling through your contacts instead. You’re searching mindlessly for someone to text that might be able to come and give you and your pussy some attention. Unfortunately, it’s mostly ineffective because Jisung just keeps rambling on, whining about how if he doesn’t get to eat some pussy soon, he will absolutely wither away.

“Wait,” he pauses, face scrunched like he’s in the middle of some profound epiphany. “You have a clitoris.”

You choke, dropping your phone. It narrowly misses falling on your face and instead lands screen-down on your chest. “Uh, yeah? Girl. Clitoris. We were in the same sex ed course.”

“S’probably fat too,” he mumbles, ignoring you and sounding incredibly cringe while he’s at it. 

You fake gag. “That is none of your business.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, rolling over onto his tummy. The movement brings him closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you think your heart stutters in your chest. Normally something as small as that wouldn’t be so impactful, but you suppose the aforementioned substance intake might be the cause for that. 

“Aren’t you, like, goin’ through a dry spell right now or somethin’ too?”

“No,” you answer honestly, not sure why you haven’t shut him down yet. “I literally got fucked last week.”

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, socked feet swinging in the air as he nods. “You said he didn’t make you come though.”

“No,” you sigh, lowkey wishing you had kept your mouth shut. “He didn’t.”

“I could,” he says, calm and collected like he’s talking about the weather and not the possibility of getting your clit in his mouth. “‘M really good at it.”

You know. You’ve known Jisung all your life and the two of you have literally been inseparable since diapers. You were there when he went from nerdy and awkward to some weird version of attractive that is still nerdy and awkward, but also really fucking hot. Plus, girls on campus talk; the boys talk, too. It’s not hard to know what they say about Jisung. You can’t say you’ve never thought of him that way because that would be a lie; you’re only human and you have eyes. However, despite hearing about Jisung’s oral fixation and its medal earning techniques, pursuing him in any fashion has never been more than a fleeting thought. Until now. 

 “Friends don’t fuck their friends, Jisung.”

“Who said anything about fuckin’?” he asks, puffing his cheeks out like a squirrel. “‘M not lookin’ to get my dick wet! Except like, you’re really hot so I definitely wouldn’t say no, but I’m really just trying to eat some pussy. Please?”

The way he says it, nonchalant and mundane, does leave you reeling. Your intoxicated brain and throbbing clit tell you to pedal to the medal, pass go and collect two hundred dollars. What’s a little head between friends, anyway? It’s not like you have to touch him, you don’t have to let Jisung fuck you. He’s just asking for a taste of your pussy, just a little feel of your soft cunt on his lips; nothing too crazy, right? The rational part of your brain, which is – admittedly – a very tiny portion, is telling you to pump the brakes before you end up in a fender-bender collision of misplaced feelings and friendship. 

“C’mon,” he begs, big, brown eyes going wet. His bottom lip pokes out, looking oh, so plump and inviting. You watch with rapt attention as his little, pink tongue licks over it. He’s shameless, pulling out all the stops when he leans over to plant his face on your chest. 

“I know you want to! Look at this face; I’m so cute,” he whines, “Wouldn’t I be even cuter if I was making you come on it?”

You blink once, twice, three times.

“Please, please, please. Help me out here, bestie!”

You’re wet. Ridiculously so and ashamed that Jisung hasn’t even done anything beyond whining about how your cunt isn’t in his mouth yet. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. It should be pathetic. It is pathetic! Your cunt drools in your sweats anyways, soaking through your cotton panties and wetting your thighs. You’re ashamed that you’re wet over your best friend sounding like some pathetic virgin. It’s hot, though. Between Jisung’s whimpery voice and baby face, you’re not sure you have it in you to decline. In fact, you know you don’t. 

“Fine,” you groan, like it’s such a huge feat to let a gorgeous boy lick your pussy. Well, maybe it is when said boy is your best mate. “Please stop looking at me with those big fucking eyes of yours before I end up letting you get away with murder.”

He snorts in response. completely unattractive though your desire remains strong. He moves over you, pushing your legs to bend at the knee as he settles in front of you, sprung into action. Your own sock-clad feet rest on his thighs, toes curling into his joggers. 

“You’re g’na to let me murder your pussy,” he slurs with a childish giddiness, much like a kid on Christmas. He’s reaching for the waistband of your sweats immediately, not even bothering to ask you for permission. “God, I bet you taste so good.”

“Kind of tart,” you blurt, lifting your hips as he tugs. “Tangy? I guess.”

He pauses, gripping your sweats as they droop around your ankles. His pupils are so wide not that  his eyes look black, molten pools of heat that singe you at the nerves. 

“Fuck, you —,” he gulps, tossing his head back for a brief second. “Tasting yourself?!”

“Mhm,” you’re shy under his gaze, crossing your ankles once he gets your pants off. “Is that weird? I was just curious.”

“W-Weird?! No, that’s— that’s so hot,” he mumbles, licking his own lips. If you moved your feet up and inward, you’d feel how hard he is. Hard and leaking over a pussy he hasn’t even seen yet. 

“You’re so hot,” Jisung whines, hands fumbling for your panties this time. Only then does he notice how wet it is between your legs. “Goddamn. Knew I should’ve thought of this sooner.”

You’re not able to unpack that statement, not that you’d want to while you’re high anyway. Besides, you’re more concerned with the way Jisung’s hands are parting your thighs, palms adding pressure to the backs of them so you can’t close them and block his line of sight. He’s totally focused on your naked cunt, like tunnel vision, caught up in a hunger so visceral that it feels like being swept away in the undertow of a powerful wave. Slick clings to your labia and thighs, glistening and taunting him to have a taste. Embarrassingly, and in a matter of nanoseconds, Jisung’s pressed belly down on the mattress, nose buried in the junction of your thigh and groin as he inhales deeply. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, something wetting your skin as he speaks, “I’m drooling.”

“O-Oh,” you choke, cunt clenching around nothing, slick leaking out of your hole with the admission. “Jisung.”

“Smells s’damn good,” he slurs more, kissing at your arousal dampened thighs. You can hear his lips smack together in an attempt to really taste you on his tongue, but he doesn’t move to lick you for real. “I’m probably g’na come in my pants.”

He says it to himself, a bit quieter than he would if he was speaking directly to you, but you hear him anyway. You can’t help the way your breath stutters, catching in your chest at the visual that fills your mind. You think about maybe being able to return the favor, wonder if his cockhead is as leaky as your hole is. Would he taste as good as you think? 

He doesn’t let you fantasize for too long, drawing all your focus when he drops one of your thighs to hook his arm over it instead, hand resting over the soft skin of your belly and petting it gently. He kisses directly over your slit at the same time, trailing along the length of it eagerly. That lasts a few moments before the hand on your belly is reaching just a bit further, long fingers spreading the lips of your cunt just enough to reveal the one thing Jisung’s been after since the beginning. Just behind your labia, a little below the apex and tucked in the center lies your pudgy, swollen clit, just begging to be kissed and sucked on. 

“Holy shit,” he rumbles, dazed and hornier than he can recall ever being before. 

“Well don’t just stare at it!” you whine, belly clenching. “Do something, Sung. Please.”

“Am,” he assures you, speaking in fragmented sentences. “G’na suck it,” he sighs, lashes fluttering as his mouth inches closer.  “G’na suck this pussy so good.”

Time feels like it stops with the first touch of his tongue.  It’s wet, soaked in his spit as he drags it flat up the center of you. You’re too busy staring at the ceiling with heavy, pinched breaths so you don’t see his eyes rolling back in his head as he does it. You fight the rolling of your own as Jisung does it again, this time dragging his nose and his tongue through your folds. It feels so good that you can feel yourself melting into his sheets, arms eagerly hooking beneath your own knees to keep yourself open for him. 

“Hah,” you moan, nails digging into your own flesh. “Oh my God.”

“Mm,” Jisung hums, mouth full of pussy. His lips smack against your flesh as he licks his fill, savoring the taste of you. “S’good?”

“Uh-huh,” you sigh, tossing your head from side to side. Your thighs are quivering already and he’s barely done anything. “Mouth so— Oh, fuuuuck!”

You’re caught off guard by the near sudden suckling, realizing that your best friend has chosen to slurp your clit right into his warm, little mouth. And God, is it warm. Wet as hell, too. All that heat, wetness, and suction surrounding your swollen nub as Jisung’s mouth pulls at it gently. You swear you have to be dreaming, legs kicking slightly. No fucking way this is real. Despite how good those gentle suckles feel, nothing compares to the added flick of a sure tongue. When Jisung combines the two, coaxing your clit out from under the engorged hood, you feel yourself go cross eyed from how wrecked you feel under his ministrations. 

“Ji, Ji,” you pant, clit pulsing against his tongue, “Oh, your mouth,” you laugh, delirious with it. “So good, Jisung. Sooo good on my pussy.” 

“Yeah,” he pants, kissing your puffy clit while slipping lower. “Told you,” he mumbles, sliding his tongue into your entrance and still trying to talk, “Know how t’eat  pussy good.”

It’s inside you. His whole tongue. Wet and scratchy and shoved into your cunt so he can lick your taste out from the source. You can’t believe your luck, can’t believe how getting crossfaded while watching The X-Files turned into you getting the life sucked out of you through your pussy. You’re definitely not complaining though, not when you clamp down around said tongue and all you can hear is Jisung’s deep, broken moans; not when all you can feel are his soft cheeks against you and wet, devious mouth working you into a frenzy. He doesn’t even need to add fingers to make you say you’re going to come. 

“I’m gonna come,” you say sharply, trying to stay still. 

“Do it,” Jisung encourages, slurping at your labia. The skin stretches with his actions, bouncing back when its released. “Come on my face.”

“Oh, don’t,” you slur, twitching and reaching for something to hold onto and finding purchase in his hair. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.” 

Jisung can only grin evilly. 

“C’mon,” he teases, sucking your clit back into his mouth, rutting his hips against the mattress. “Use my mouth ‘n come.”

You are helpless to try, a slave to your own pleasure. Jisung’s words ring in your skull as you hold him still, rolling your hips and dragging your clit up and down the expanse of his tongue. He’s so good for you, letting you take control, moaning and groaning like he’s the one receiving the top-tier head of the century. In the end, yes — Jisung’s mouth is a force to be reckoned with, but it's the sight of those big, hershey kiss eyes looking at you reverently that does you in. They’re so big, brown and wet, adoration and lust swimming in them, that you can’t help but shake apart. Jisung groans heartily as your hands twist in his hair, tugging as you come, spilling warm and tangy all over his tongue. 

He licks until you’re kicking at him, trying to pull your clit away from his greedy mouth. When you look at him, his face is drenched in your cum from the apples of his cheeks to the lines of his jaw. You feel like your soul has left your body, but you’re still buzzing with want. Something lurking in your veins that you don’t have the higher function to dissect right now. 

“I—,” you pant, watching him lick the remnants of you from his face. A small grin graces your lips and you shake your head in disbelief.  “What the actual fuck, Jisung?”

“It’s just head,” he shrugs, “Fuck, your pussy though,” he sighs fondly, adjusting his dick. “Ten out of ten would eat again.”

There’s a pause then, a stretch of minutes that feel like the slow turn of cogs in a machine. Still high but coming down quickly, the two of you are left staring at each other, assessing the scene. You, still clad in your t-shirt and socks, and Jisung, still completely dressed. On a curious whim, your eyes drop to the hard length between Jisung’s legs and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious if he can use it well, too. 

“So,” you drawl, meeting his gaze. “Still not trying to get your dick wet?”

His cock jumps, ready and eager. “Uh, no. I’m definitely trying. I’ve been trying to get you on it for years,” he admits. 

You laugh. Of course he would admit something so important in the cringiest way possible. 

“You’re pathetic,” you tell him, tapping his boner with your foot. His lashes flutter again and you choose to file that away for later. “I still want you inside me.” 

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

● Chapter List ●

[Chapter One]

[Chapter Two]

[Chapter Three]

[Chapter Four]

[Chapter Five (Smut)]

[Chapter Six]

[Chapter Seven]

[Chapter Eight]

[Chapter Nine]

[Chapter Ten]

[Chapter Eleven]

[Chapter Twelve]

[Chapter Thirteen]

[Chapter Fourteen]

[Chapter Fifteen (Smut)]

[Epilogue]

Disclaimer: The representation given to the members in these fics doesn't reflect my opinion or how the members are in real life. Think of it as them acting a certain role.

© blahblahbinnie 2023 Copying, reposting, translating and/or modifications of my work are strickly prohibited. Moodboard images from Pinterest. I do not own the rights to any of them, credit goes to rightful owners. If any of the images featured is yours, please reach out to me so I can properly credit it or remove it.

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a/n: this is a collection of short fics where the titles are based on traditional wedding vows, however it doesn't necessarily mean the skz x reader relationship is a married couple. this is a place for me to post short fics or fics that i would normally want to be one scene/chapter in a longer fic, but i don't have the inspiration or motivation to write that longer fic. you can also read this on ao3. please enjoy!

taglist: please reply to this post, dm me, or send in a question if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series! i also have a permanent taglist that you can be added to :)