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You didn’t even want to enter your apartment complex. When you woke up in the early hours of night, you were covered in sweat. Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, your shirt clung to your armpits. There was a damp spot on the bed from where you had been laying.

You didn’t even want to enter your apartment complex. When you woke up in the early hours of night, you were covered in sweat. Your hair was stuck to the back of your neck, your shirt clung to your armpits. There was a damp spot on the bed from where you had been laying.

After using the restroom you stumbled to the thermostat, softly cursing your orange cat as he wound himself around your ankles. You had stared at the thermostat for a second, uncomprehending. Then you frantically fled to Wonwoo’s room and woke him up. 

“Well,” he had mumbled, squinting at the bold 85 that the thermostat boasted. He fumbled with it for a moment, before relenting and announcing it was broken. “I’ll call the landlord in the morning. Not like anything can be done about it until everything opens up.”

So the two of you had opened the windows and turned on every fan in the apartment. You checked the temperature of Butters’ water fountain, ensuring the flow was still cold. Wonwoo had watched as you cooed at the tabby, reaching out and petting him before pressing quick kisses to his little orange head.

“You care more about Butters than you do me,” your roommate had said. His voice was deeper than usual, and you foolishly fought against how it seemed to force its way inside you and settle. 

“Only slightly.” Your knees had cracked when you stood again. Wonwoo was looking at your shirt, and it was then you remembered the grey cotton had done absolutely nothing to soak up your sweat and instead a large stain spread out around the neck. 

After bidding Wonwoo a good-night (for the second time in a night) you had discarded your pajamas and underwear, pulling out brand-new everything.

Which was what led to your current predicament, which was also further evidence that the universe was against you.

It wasn’t until you were standing in front of your building did you remember that the t-shirt you were wearing was your last clean one. It was the one Wonwoo had gotten you two years back when he and Mingyu had gone on a vacation to the Pacific Northwest that depicted a redwood tree and had the phrase “Big Red Stick National Forest” written across it. Even worse: you were also wearing your last clean pair of underwear, having intentionally set it aside yesterday evening as a reminder. 

The air conditioning was back on in the apartment complex, but that did nothing to stop your bad mood or clothes from clinging to you; even worse, the cold air made your sweat stains turn cool and freeze against your skin.

“The whole universe is against me,” you announced upon entering your apartment. Wonwoo glanced over from his spot on the couch. Butters stood from where he had been curled up on Wonwoo’s chest, stretching out before jumping off. 

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Wonwoo said, rather objectively. 

Butters pranced over to you, looking like a small show pony. He stretched out his front legs one final time before looking up at you, blinking his huge green eyes, and screaming. 

“I know!” You agreed, leaning down and scooping Butters up into your arms. He immediately began purring. Butters forcefully rubbed his head underneath your chin and you returned the favor, rubbing your face in his. “Wonwoo just doesn’t understand us, Butters. He’s a meanie.”

“Now how is that fair?” 

Wonwoo stood, stretching. You watched as he extended his arms up towards the ceiling, fingers splayed and reminding you of Butters after a nap. Wonwoo was wearing a tank top, one that hung from his frame and did nothing to hide his collarbone. His muscles flexed as he stretched and you couldn’t help but watch his biceps strain, and you sort of wondered what it felt like to press your hand against his lower back as he stretched, feeling how his muscles moved. 

Once upon a time, Wonwoo was nothing but a string bean with awkward angles and too-sharp elbows and knees. That was the Jeon Wonwoo you had met; that was the Jeon Wonwoo you had agreed to room with. 

But then he met Lee Jihoon and suddenly decided visiting the gym was a brilliant idea, filling one of your cupboard shelves with protein powder. 

Again: proof the universe was against you. 

You felt Butters take a deep breath, and then he was screaming again. You turned to look at him, and he reached up and settled a paw against your mouth. His lime eyes peered into yours and seemed to say “get it together, mother.”

He was right. You needed to get it together. 

“Why is the universe against you?” Wonwoo finally asked, done with his stretching. He made his way to the door, his feet bare and hair sticking up on one side, looking so painfully domestic and sweet. 

For a moment you let your mind wonder. You were a successful business woman returning from a long day at the office. There was air conditioning in your apartment. You were greeted by your trophy husband and cat. Wonwoo was telling you about his day, which consisted of cleaning and gaming. You were setting Butters back on the ground so you could grab Wonwoo around the waist, sneaking your hands up underneath that too-large tank top and settling them against his skin. You were kissing Wonwoo, unhurriedly and sweetly, taking all the time in the world because the matching rings on your fingers meant that the two of you were united forever, that you had until the end of the world to kiss Wonwoo and tell him you loved him. 

And then Butters wiggled against you, moving so he could dangle over your shoulder and forcing you to hold him like you would hold a baby you were about to burp. 

“First the air conditioning wasn't working.”

“Obviously.”

“The subway was crowded and stinky. My carriage smelled like someone pissed in it, and someone probably did. I tripped stepping off of the sidewalk and onto the crosswalk --”

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo interrupted, his dark eyebrows furrowing. He glanced over you, eyes darting behind his glasses. “Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head. Butters was purring so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear it. “Only my pride was hurt, if I’m honest. A nice man who was jogging stopped and helped me up.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrowed for a split second before his face took on his normal neutral look. You wondered if he was still hooked on the prospect of you falling. A handful of months ago you had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, walking in front of Soonyoung just as Seungcheol launched a killer pitch at him, the ball slamming into your stomach and causing you to double over. 

Wonwoo hadn’t seen it happen; had only heard Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s shouts from the kitchen where he and a few others had been talking. You remember Wonwoo suddenly appearing at your side, practically shoving Soonyoung away from you and taking you into his arms. You remember him petting your head as you cried from the pain, Seungcheol recounting what had happened; you also recall Wonwoo shouting at Seungcheol and Soonyoung, whisking you away from the get-together and ignoring his two friends for a week. 

That entire week he was hovering around you. He would routinely ask if it was okay to touch your stomach, if he could look at it, just to see the progress of the violent bruise that was forming. Wonwoo constantly had a frozen bag of peas or corn ready for you, switching one out whenever he deemed it too warm. It wasn’t until the bruise was fading and you urged him to get in contact with Seungcheol and Soonyoung did he finally let up on his mothering. 

He was a good friend, caring so much about your wellbeing. Your heart fluttered a little at his concern, and you shifted Butters in your hold so you could reach out and squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Wonwoo! I didn’t even land hard enough to get a scratch, see?” 

You offered the hand of your palm for him to inspect. He glanced at it casually. He then reached out and grabbed your wrist, eyes trained on the skin there. “That was nice of the old man to help you,” Wonwoo said. 

“Oh, he wasn’t old.” He kept his eyes trained on your palm. You wiggled your fingers. You wanted him to look away from your hand with that serious look, wanted him to instead meet your eyes with his dark ones and be on the receiving end of such an open display of devotion. But instead it was your hand he looked at with such seriousness. 

Again: the universe was against you.

 “Thought you said he was an old man,” Wonwoo returned, tone casually. He pushed up his glasses. 

You shook your head, Butters letting out a trill of discontent at the movement. “No, I reckon he was around our age? You should’ve seen his calf muscles, Wonie. They were huge.”

Wonwoo hummed a little. His thumb began brushing against your palm, gently swiping the skin there. Your heart began to beat in rhythm with the movement of his thumb. “Did you get his number, then?”

You furrowed your brow. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

Wonwoo finally looked up from your hand. His eyes no longer had that serious look to them, and a small smile curled the edge of his lips. You liked how he grinned like that, when his smiles weren’t large enough and instead seemed to play with only one side of his mouth. It made him look adorable; endearing; sweet. 

“Okay. So no air conditioning; you tripped; the subway smelled like piss. What else am I missing?”

Wonwoo’s thumb stopped brushing against your palm. He released your hand. You immediately missed it and wanted to reach out and return his hand to its rightful place in yours. 

“Uh. My chapstick was so hot from the weather that when I went to apply it, it was all mush. My airpods disconnected and Taemin’s MOVE blasted in the elevator. A toddler was screaming in the middle of the CVS and I honestly wanted to start screaming with him, because today has fucking sucked.”

Wonwoo nodded. He was still grinning. “Wow. Anything else?”

“My clothes are smelly and wet -- even my underwear.”

Wonwoo blinked. 

Your eyes widened. You let out a shriek; Butters screamed with you. “NO -- they’re wet from sweat! I’m wet from sweating! Not from anything else -- just sweat! Because it’s so hot! It’s hot outside!”

“Ah,” Wonwoo’s mouth was agape, eyes round. He glanced at the wall. Back at you. At Butters. Back at you. 

The universe was fucking against you.

“You can borrow some of mine,” he said.

And because the universe was so against you that even your own self was against you, you agreed. 

The t-shirt he gave you was several sizes too-large, as Wonwoo tended to go for comfort over what looked good more often than not. It was from the vacation you, he, Mingyu, Seokmin and Minghao had taken around Christmas. You had said something about the Grand Canyon being the perfect place to take pictures and then suddenly Wonwoo was presenting you with a plane ticket and saying your flight was the next day. 

And so your little group of photography nerds had ooo’d and aaah’d the Grand Canyon. Wonwoo hadn’t gotten a shirt at the giftshop, you remember (and tried to shove away the shame you felt at remembering something as little as that), but at a gas station several miles out he had suddenly appeared with a plastic bag and a large smile. 

Then he had presented you with the shirt you were wearing currently. It had a picture of the Grand Canyon with a little hiker on the edge. There was a quote bubble coming out from the hiker that said “I rimmed the Grand Canyon”. 

Seokmin had actually peed himself from laughing so hard. 

His underwear was snug around your middle, and you tightened your shorts in an effort to keep them up. You walked from the bathroom, feeling infinitely better. Wonwoo was setting a bowl next to the sink, and as soon as he caught sight of you his eyes went almost comically wide. You did a little spin, Butters screaming at your feet. 

“Ta-dah!” You cheered, doing jazz hands. “Better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo agreed. “Loads better.” 

You joined Wonwoo at the sink, pushing your hair behind your ears. A fan sat on top of the kitchen table, practically starting a tornado from how violently it spun the air. 

“What’s up with your buddy over there,” you asked, nodding towards the fan. 

Wonwoo looked over at the fan. He had been looking at your chest, but to be fair to him, that was where the iconic text that still sent Seokmin into hysterics eight months later was. Wonwoo was probably just reading the phrase and reliving Seokmin’s embarrassment at having wet himself. 

“Ah,” Wonwoo began. He pushed up his glasses. “I had cereal and it was hot.”

“Your cereal was hot?”

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising. “No? What -- why the fuck would my cereal be hot?”

“You just said it was!”

“No? I meant it was hot in the apartment,” he clarified. Wonwoo’s voice had that same tone he got when he found someone absolutely ridiculous. “The heat is definitely getting to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. But I do know you’re not leaving me to do all these dishes.”

The pile was tragic. It was tragic in that it was a sore reminder that even with the two of you combined, you and Wonwoo didn’t have a single responsible brain cell. Or perhaps you did; Butters was still alive, afterall. So that had to qualify for something.

At least the pile was washed off, you justified. 

It could be worse. 

Like Seokmin and Soonyoung’s shared apartment. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo began. He turned to face the dishes with you, hands splayed on the counter. His hands were tan, just like the rest of him, from spending time outside exercising with Mingyu (Jihoon absolutely refused to exercise outside). Every time you looked at his hands and were reminded of how large they were, you couldn’t help but swallow and try to combat the heat that flashed through you. 

His hands were big. Almost comically big. Except it wasn’t funny how everytime you saw his hands you wanted to reach out and lace your fingers through his, you wanted to press kisses to his palms, wanted to know how it felt to have his hands settled at the base of your neck, guiding your head into a kiss --

Anyways. Anyways. 

There was a dull thud. You looked to see Butters peering over the edge of the coffee table at a book he had no doubt pushed off. He looked away from the book and at you. Your eyes met, and you knew for a fact that if Butters was capable of judging another being, he would absolutely be judging you. 

“You were going to leave the dishes to me, though,” Wonwoo pointed out. You looked at him. He was smiling down at you, eyes crinkling. 

“Okay, you caught me,” you returned. “Now that we both know each other’s evil plan, let’s do them together.”

There was a brief pause. And then Wonwoo narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. “Do you hear that?”

You went still, trying to listen. “No, I don’t. What --”

“My phone is ringing,” Wonwoo said, pushing away from the sink. “I better go and see who it is!”

“I see your PHONE IN YOUR POCKET, ASSHOLE!”

Nonetheless, you shoved your hair back from your face and looked down at the pile of dishes. Sighing, hopefully loud enough for Wonwoo to hear, you forcefully turned on the water. You shoved the plug into the sink, vowing to make Wonwoo pay somehow. 

You rearranged the dishes, setting the larger bowls and plates on the counter. You tucked your escaping bangs back behind your ears again. You began with the bowls, scrubbing them and trying to come up with a master plan to get Wonwoo back for his desertion. 

Maybe you could only do your half of the dishes and leave his dirty ones. But then he’d catch on and just start ordering out more in an effort to not have to clean. You could make him clean out the litter box, but it was his turn to do it anyway. You could invite him to a movie night and make him watch the Barbie movies, but then again he somehow always found a way to enjoy himself during them. 

You could make him watch a kid’s show. Maybe like Bluey? Fuck wait, though, you genuinely enjoyed Bluey and didn’t want to turn it into a punishment. 

You let out a groan when your bangs fell from behind your ears, obscuring part of your vision again. You shoved them back, uncaring of the water that fell from your hands and dripped onto the shirt. 

Oh! You could invite him to a movie night and invite Mingyu and not tell him! You had unintentionally done it once, having forgotten to tell Wonwoo that you had invited your mutual friend until Mingyu was knocking on the apartment door. Wonwoo had seemed sour the entire night, but you waved it off at him just being pissed that Mingyu took the last soda from the fridge. 

Yes. That was the play. 

You grinned at your brilliance, wiggling a little in celebration. Your hair shifted and once again your bangs fell to your face, dangling in front of your eyes. 

Groaning, you lifted your hands from the soapy water to try and force your hair to obey you and keep away from your face. Then two hands settled on your waist, squeezing. 

You jumped, shrieking a little. Wonwoo laughed, his chuckle deep and bringing heat to your cheeks. He squeezed your waist again. “Just me.”

“Well I know that now,” you snapped. “Announce yourself next time, dude. Could’ve been holding a knife and stabbed you. Reflexively.”

“Reflexively,” he mocked, before letting out another huff of laughter. You felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. Despite the humidity and heat, you shivered. 

His hands moved from your waist, but you didn’t get a chance to miss them as they traveled up your body, close enough for you to feel the ghost of them. “Don’t move, baby.”

Obediently, terribly obediently, you went still. His long fingers carded through your hair, untangling it. If you were Butters you would have been purring. Then Wonwoo chuckled again as if he was laughing at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were somehow purring. Then you caught yourself leaning back into his touch and realized why he was laughing. 

You immediately straightened, pushing as close to the sink as you could. The edge of the counter dug into your stomach. 

Wonwoo tugged one of your locks of hair. “Listen to me,” he chastised you. “I told you to be still.”

“I am,” you whined. 

He didn’t say anything. His hands returned to your hair. Wonwoo’s fingers resumed their petting, but this time they didn’t linger. He pulled at your hair, gathering it. It wasn’t until he was tying the scrunchie around your hair a second time did you realize what he was doing. 

Your roommate was tying your hair up for you. 

Wonwoo was tying your hair for you. 

Jeon Wonwoo, the man you‘ve been daydreaming about for the past two years, the man you’ve been imagining holding hands and even kissing, was putting up your hair. He had seen you struggle with your bangs and took it upon himself to help you. He didn’t just hand you the scrunchie but did it himself. 

You turned around as soon as you felt him tighten the scrunchie enough so it would hold. You peered up at him; he looked back down at you. His face was as neutral as ever, but even then you saw the little shine in his dark eyes. You wondered if you were delusional, wondered if he felt the same pull you did, if he felt the string that tied the two of you together tighten and urge you together. 

“Why did you do that?

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrow and sharp. “Guess.”

And then he was pulling away from you completely. Your mind was blank as he took a handful of steps away from you, watching him run a hand through his black hair and the muscles on his back flex. 

Guess. 

You were on him in a second. 

Your hands went to his waist, turning him towards you as you lifted yourself onto the tip of your toes. He was leaning down to you, one of his hands going to your shoulder, bringing you close, the other to your cheek, guiding you to his mouth. 

It was frantic and messy. He was pulling you closer and closer, arm wrapping around your shoulders and fingers sinking into your hair. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue insistent and sloppy as it forced its way into your mouth. You let him in, your hands hurriedly shoving up the hem of his tank top and flattening against his skin. You felt the warmth of him, both from his skin and his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”

You let out a soft little noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He cursed again, his hands moving. One cupped your jaw and the other went to your neck. You let him manipulate you, his mouth taking and taking from yours, his teeth biting down on your lip. 

The hand in your hair pulled sharply; you gasped. 

Wonwoo pulled away. The hand on your jaw moved, the other one still holding you in place. You watched, heart fluttering and gut clenching, as he removed his glasses and tossed them onto the table. 

And then his mouth descended onto yours, devouring once more. He pressed ever closer, his hand traveling to grip at your waist. He murmured your name, chanted it, as if it were ancient words of prayer. Wonwoo kissed you like you were a god and it was his offering, spit smearing across your mouths and nails digging into skin.

There was an inhuman scream. You let out a shout of your own against Wonwoo’s mouth, pulling away and whipping your head towards the sound. 

Butters screamed again, scrambling against the coffee table before launching himself off it. He continued his scream as he sprinted across the living room and into the kitchen, his orange tail pointed straight up into the air. Butters slid on the hard floor as he came upon his food bowl, where the automated feeder was dinging and announcing dinner time. 

You watched your orange cat inhale his food, completely unaware (or uncaring) of what had just taken place between his parents. Slowly you turned to look up at Wonwoo, who was already looking at you. 

“Uh,” you eloquently began. Shyness crept its way into you, as if you didn’t just have Wonwoo’s tongue down your throat and weren’t half a second away from offering yourself on a silver platter. 

“Hi,” he returned, just as awkwardly. He shifted, his hands moving. One remained at your waist while the other went to the table, retrieving the glasses he had heatedly discarded. 

You watched as he put them back on. The air was silent between the two of you, but just as rigid as in the moments leading up to the kiss. But instead of filling you with passion and heat it made you cringe, your hands flexing against Wonwoo’s bare back. 

“Okay --” “So here’s the thing --”

Both of you abruptly broke off. You and Wonwoo were both still as you waited for the other to continue. When neither of you did you couldn’t help but giggle, pitching yourself forward to bury your face into his chest. 

Wonwoo’s chest rumbled as he laughed, his arms going around you to hold you close. You felt him press his face into your hair, glasses digging into the top of your head. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, thudding loud against your ribcage.

This was it. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for like, two years,” you mumbled into his shirt, words rushed and your mouth practically smashing against his chest.

Wonwoo was still for a moment. You felt as if eternity had fit itself into those few seconds of pause, your heart coming to a complete still as your mind leapt to conclusions. This was the moment everything would change, and your brain was screaming like Butters did at midnight when he found either you or Wonwoo's bedroom doors closed.

Then he was pulling you away from him, one of his hands coming to guide your chin so you were looking up at him. His eyes were soft and sweet, and the corner of his mouth was beginning to pull up in a smile. “Say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes you did,” you protested. You were grinning; your heart was dancing. “Asshole.”

Wonwoo chuckled again, and then his mouth descended on yours.