~ a finals week drabble for anyone else who is also stressing about end of quarter one finals ft. wonho because I have zero self control with that man đ
~ word count: approximately 900
~ a/n: i started this about half an hour before my exam this morning and iâm posting it with zero revisions so pls just take it. hope you lovelies still in school like me arenât stressing too much this year đ
âHoseok, stop it!â
Silence pierces the room after your exclamation, and Hoseok draws his hands away from you as if heâs been burned. Your chest rises and falls rapidly with your heavy breathing, and frustrated tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes. Hoseok looks at you, confused but still concerned and you hate that.
You hate that.
You hate that you can shout and bitch and groan at this beautiful boy and he does nothing. You hate that you can snap at him for doing something as simple as wanting your attention and yet he refuses to get upset. He sits there and he stays worried about you. He stays, and heâs caring and helpful and tender, and you hate that. You hate that all of this would be easier if he just walked away and he doesnât.
âJ - just stop.â you stutter though your heavy breathing and he sits there, frozen. It feels like all of your stress and frustration is finally boiling over, and you wish he wasnât here to get caught in the crossfires.
Because heâs always there. Hoseok is always caught in the crossfires with you. With you and your stupid steadfastness, and your indecisive heart, and the battle between your wants and your needs because at this point, Hoseok has become a need, and goddamn it do you hate that.
âI need you to just stop and leave me alone right now. I can talk to you after, but right now can you just please -- â you cut yourself off with a choked sob, and those angry tears begin to spill over. And of course that stupid, sweet boy doesnât listen to you a single bit. Of course heâs there, surging forward and pushing textbooks and papers and your laptop out of the way. And you want to complain, tell him that youâre studying, tell him that youâre busy. But any protest dies on your tongue because suddenly that magnanimous boy is there and heâs cradling your chin in his hands. Heâs dipping low to brush away stray tears with soft kisses, which doesnât do much except to form new ones in your eyes.
Youâre annoyed with him, but on top of that youâre stressed. Youâre stressed and tired and so overworked, and you donât think anyone could blame you for letting yourself get pulled into the arms of this boy. This boy who was a magnate in caring for others. This boy who draws you in, folding you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin. This boy who gently pets your hair back as your shoulder shake with silent sobs.
âCome on, pretty girl.â he murmurs, and your heart cries at that too. âTell me whatâs wrong.â
And like a rubber band pulled too taut, you snap. Everything is pouring out, and you hate it. Suddenly, your worries come spilling out in wracked sobs, and you hate it. Youâre telling him about the essays you have due, and the finals youâre taking soon, and the too long meetings for all the clubs you joined to beef up your resume, and the assignments due, and all the studying, and all the sleep you lost, and you hate it. You hate it, you hate it, you hate it. Because this saccharine boy just holds you throughout, and whispers sweet nothings into your ear when youâre done.
And you hate it most because this wasnât part of your plan. He wasnât supposed to be this wealth of comfort that you crawl to like youâve been without care your entire life. You never meant for this, whatever it is, to beâŚ..more. It wasnât supposed to happen, but you canât quite control yourself and you hate it.
Your sobs quiet down and your hands ball into fist and you push lightly at his chest. Lightly enough that he knows you donât genuinely want him to let go, but he does anyways. He lets go and he turns to stack all your study materials on your bedside table. He lets go only to pull you back towards him a second later, gently nudging you downwards to rest your head against your pillow. You stare at him, eyes wide and confused, and he doesnât answer the clear question in your eyes. Instead he pulls the comforter over the two of you before pulling your frozen form in to nestle against his chest.
And because you keep finding yourself helpless to this boy, you melt into his touch. You rest your head in the divot of his chest. Match your breathing to the rise and falls of his. Find comfort in the steady thump thump of his heartbeat against your ear. And maybe your heart is racing quicker now than it was earlier, but you let yourself indulge in this brief breach of the rules that only you know about.
âStop stressing, pretty girl. You can let yourself rest for a little bit.â
You feel his breath even out to gentle puffs against the top of your head every so often. And you wonder how youâve grown to be so weak for this boy. Weak enough to let him convince you to do this. And you lie there, and wonder, and listen, and eventually your eyelids grow heavy enough to flutter shut and you join him for a few minutes of blissful rest from your hectic finals week.
Maybe you donât hate it so much, but you wish you did.
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Why did he have to get sick? It was rare he got sick, but he guessed someone must had gotten him sick. He didnât know who though. The male was in his room peacefully sleeping. He had taken medication for his fever, but he had work to get done at the same time. He still needed to call his workplace and needed to let them know what was up. Wonho could barely move. He was awoken when he heard a ring from the doorbell and got out of bed. He remembered he called a friend to pick up his latest illustrations and send them to his workplace. Wrapped in his blanket, the male grabbed the drawings that were on top of his work desk and headed to the door. When he finally reached the door, he opened it and was about to greet who he thought was his friend, but it wasnât. The male blinked and looked at the stranger. âUm..Can I help you?â
      As soon as Saebyeok woke up along with the rising of the sun, he could feel deep down in his bones that something was going to happen today. Though the feeling was not a bad one, perhaps it meant he needed to prepare in some sort of way for a visit as he had no intentions of making his way out into the city. What he had originally planned was a nice day in his garden, tending to the flowers and the faefolk that lived there and eventually settling down with a nice cup of tea and a thick book to read.Â
This feeling he had suggest the fates did not have that planned for him today. Sighing as he got out of bed he figures he should be a bit more productive in his household chores rather than the outdoor ones if something was to happen today. Putting his usual morning shower aside, he opts for making breakfast first, fresh eggs from his chickens, toast and jam, with some peach slices. Simple yet delicious. While his eggs were cooking he takes his time to clean the kitchen area, though there wasnât much to clean as the witch liked to keep his home tidy.Â
After breakfast he does some sweeping, dusting, and tidying up around his small cottage in the woods. It didnât take him long to finish his chores and after working up a little bit of a sweat and now slightly dirty himself, he then allows himself to take a nice and hot shower. Showering had to be one of his favorite activities and he doesnât know how he managed to live without them as a child growing up. The hot water was soothing not just for the muscles, but also for the soul. Not to mention the feeling of being clean was one of the best in the world.Â
As the mornings were getting cooler and the afternoons a more comfortable temperature, Saebyeok places himself in layers so that he could adjust accordingly to how his body was feeling. The witch more often than not liked to be bundled up and warm as he found the cold to be uncomfortable. Another reason he has weather protective magic over his small little farm and garden so that he may keep everything alive even in the dead of winter.Â
Unsure of what to come with the feeling he had this morning, he decides to make his cup of tea and try and sit down with is book till whatever may come. Though as soon as he was merely a few pages in, he suddenly felt a familiar presence around his cottage. So thatâs what the fates had instore for him today, a visitor. Â
âHey, sorry to bother you but do you mind holding this real quick for me?â he asked, holding out a bag. He had another bag that had his drawing materials and found that one of the pockets had been opened and he swore he remembered zipping up that pocket before leaving his home. Though, he understood if the male didnât want to hold his bag. He could find a place where he could set his things down, but considering how things were close to falling out of his other bag he didnât want to walk back and collect them. The bag he was asking the male to hold held his camera, as he was going to take pictures of various scenery and draw them for an upcoming book he was helping with. âCourse itâs understandable if you donât want to.â
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