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But- That’s when Chanyeol was his closest friend, even more than Jongdae. Back then, he wasn’t the worthless bastard who belonged to a family of gangster, people believed he could’ve done well. Baekhyun could handle anyone. There’s so many guys you could choose, Baekhyun would’ve accepted better - or, at least, he likes to think he would. Just not Chanyeol, it’s been enough to pretend Chanyeol’s nothing a classmate and now he has to see you with him, being happy as he wishes he could make you.

Baekhyun tried before, he tried convincing himself to stop this relationship or whatever anyone would call it. Whatever you call it. He sincerely thought it’d be better for you to find someone who could make you happy without having to walk hidden in shadows and corners here and there, but, he knows, he’s too selfish. Maybe as much as you’re being, maybe more because this isn’t him just accepting what you want, this is him not being able to say no because he just can’t let go.

The sound of the keys and the wooden door opening calls Baekhyun attention and he turns his head to see Chanyeol walking in the old house he moved from, the house the six boys use to cause trouble before being called for lunch or dinner, being called out to sit down and study first before playing outside. Chanyeol’s eyes find his, staring from inside the car, somehow and he stops right before going in the house.

Baekhyn can almost see the wheels turning in Chanyeol’s head, but he can’t get himself to do anything about it. He could always simply drive away. Finally, he sees Chanyeol sighing heavily and pulling the door closed.

‘Please, don’t.’ Baekhyun thinks to himself, feeling his body tensing, ‘Just pretend you didn’t see me.’ , Baekhyun pleads, hands clenching on the steering wheel, ‘Just go home and ignore me, Why are you such a-’ 

“What a dumb bastard!” Baekhyun grumply murmurs to himself as he sees Chanyeol approaching him directly.

Baekhyun sighs once again and forces himself off his Baby . Chanyeol’s still in his school uniform, hands stuck in the front pockets of his jacket, he looks nothing but what a high-achieving high schooler would look. ‘The bastard is even good looking and charming’, Baekhyun thinks to himself with a hidden laughter, ‘He suits her’, he adds bitterly to himself soon after.

“It’s been a while.” Chanyeol says awkwardly when he stops. Baekhyun hums and nods positively as he leans on his car.

Baekhyun sees Chanyeol gathering breath, as if he’d say something, but then he just exhales at once, looking away and hisses to himself.

“What?” Baekhyun asks, crooking his head to the side and Chanyeol looks back at him.

“Nothing” Chanyeol replies at first and there’s a pause and Baekhyun allows it because Chanyeol seems to have words stuck in his throat, whatever they are. He’d like to hear it, “Just-”

‘Ah~ There they are-’ Baekyun thinks to himself as Chanyeol starts.

“When-” Chanyeol exhales again in frustration and takes a step closer, hesitantly, “You know, when I got back and saw you in class I thought, ‘well, maybe we could be friends again’ . But, if I tried to get any closer you just disappeared, everyday. You just disappeared from the classroom.”

Baekhyun would keep this secret that’s now dear to him as much as it was back then. He disappeared to meet you, he was always so eager to embrace you. Still is.

“All you do is using Mr. Kim’s fame as a gangster to push people away?”

“This time it’s true, though” Baekhyun says simply.

“Oh, so- You couldn’t even say hello. Just once?”

“What for? Because we played together when we were kids?” Baekhyun scoffs, shaking his head, “All it’d do is earn you a bad reputation and side-glares for talking to me”, Baekhyun says calmly, “As soon as they heard we used to be close you’d go from top student to gangster minion like this! ” Baekhyun snaps his fingers.

“Oh, I see” Chanyeol laughs to himself, “And here I thought we could still be friends. I’m just that stupid”

“You are.”

Chanyeol hums in reply and takes another step closer and now they’re way too close, so Baekhyun chuckles.

“What’s wrong with the distance we had a moment ago.” Baekhyun mocks, “You miss me so much that you need to take a better look?” He says playfully, mannering his head as if to give Chanyeol a better angle to take a picture, “You’re talking to me now. Is that anything you’d like to say?”

“Yes” Chanyeol replies readily, “There were some things I wanted to tell you. I wanted us to talk about many things, but now- Now! There’s just one thing that I need to ask.”

“What is it?” Baekhyun asked even though he could tell his old friend’s eyes what would it be, so he ready himself to how the question would come along.

“Y/n” Chanyeol started, not knowing how else to do so and licks his lips, uncertain of how to go on, “About Y/n. Actually, this is backwards-”, Chanyeol says the second part more to himself than to Baekhyun and the later waits, “You made a mess in school today. I heard them saying you could get kicked out and we’re almost graduating. So why? Why did you do all of that for Y/n? What’s so wrong about Y/n and I being a couple? Why can’t it be true? Do you like her?”

The words just poured out of Chanyeol’s lips and by the end his eyes prickled with hidden tears, he just didn’t want to have this conversation in the first place. When someone rushed to him to say what was going on he rushed to see what really was it about, then he heard Baekhyun and the desperation, and anger in his friend’s voice pained him somehow in more than one way. He still can’t understand, he can’t grasp, but he knows he didn’t like the fact that Baekhyun just couldn’t like you as someone started gossiping. 

Chanyeol’s last question lingers in the air, tasting bitter on his own tongue as he runs out of breath to speak anymore. Chanyeol likes you- a lot , it’s different than any other times he liked anyone else and he doesn’t want to face anyone who seems willing to have you too. He’s not sure if he’s a coward, maybe he’s unsure of himself. Should he tell you how much he likes you already, the two of you seemed to be moving slowly, you seem to enjoy doing so, but maybe he should pick up a certain pace. Baekhyun isn’t someone to just take things slow, that much Chanyeol’s certain.

Baekhyun stops himself from frowning or exposing how he can read Chanyeol’s thoughts in his expression. Chanyeol just doesn’t change, as he thought. Pulling himself away from the car, Baekhyun straightens his body only making all the more obvious how small he is compared to Chanyeol, thankfully he’s standing on a slightly higher side of the hill. Which is almost nothing, but at least something . Like what you give him.

Once again Baekhyun considers just saying it all. Taking you for himself and get this over with. He’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe, so what’s the matter. It’s just a matter of seconds when a movie goes before his eyes where he can take you with him and everything will work out like a miraculous magic trick. He can do anything as long as you’re there, so why not?

“Yes” Baekhyun replies and Chanyeol breathe is caught in his throat, “I like Y/n”, Baekhyun adds, watching Chanyeol hiccups and step back, much to his pleasure.

Should he say it all now, then. When Chanyeol looks like lost, hurt puppy, eyes wandering everywhere but him.

“I think I should have her instead of you” Baekhyun says boldly, watching Chanyeol look at him with wide eyes, “I got a bastard in my family instead of you. Mr. Kim married my mom instead of yours, so… I got the weak end of the rope on that, so- Just think of Y/n as compensation.” Bekhyun tries sounding as emotionless as he can while Chanyeol watches him in disbelief, “She’ll be the good thing you own me. We’ll be even then”

“Baekhyun, you-” Chanyeol is cut by his own breathless state and as soon as he recoverse he chuckles pathetically, “Who do you think you are to demand to have a person as compensation? You’re just some high schooler! Are you crazy?”

“Some high-schooler” Baekhyun mocks with a sick grin prying his lips, before laughing loudly to himself. Chanyeol looks around, startled and sees a few lights in the neighborhood light up.

“Are you crazy? It’s late! You're gonna wake up the whole neighborhood.”

“Why? Afraid to be seen with a gangster?”Baekhyun asks, “Look closely, Yeol! At us! You and me.” Baekhyun mentions to Chanyeol and then his own self, pulling on Chanyeol’s uniform, before tugging on his long coat, the clothes fit him, but they are way too unfitting for a kid his age and Baekhyun knows it well, “ You’re the high-schooler here. I’m a real gangster. Mr. Kim- Ah, no! Dad is giving me a lot of confidence lately, there’s nothing I can’t do~”

“So?” Chanyeol asks, trying to look at Baekhyun’s eyes, “You wanna treat Y/n like Mr. Kim treats the people he used to play around with before discarding like trash? Is that it?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Baekhyun insists, “I like Y/n.” He says more clearly this time, “If you don’t have the confidence, then just let me have what I deserve.”

Baekhyun pulled the car’s door open and hopped inside. He couldn’t say it afterall, that’s all Baekhyun could think as he watched Chanyeol become smaller as he drove away. It’s better this way, he thinks. Chanyeol watched him drive by with a heavy heart. If only the year just ended and you and him could take off to college right away. Away from Baekhyun.

You had no friends, only acquaintances. You had no crazy nights out that your parents would never hear about, only quiet movie nights with you and well… yourself. It didn’t bother you much though that you didn’t have that typical high school life, that you didn’t have friends that people always say you would have for life. It was quiet, living the way you did but really, you didn’t mind having to be alone… Although, you had to admit that you hated feeling lonely. 

Just two more years, 

Just another year,

Just a few more months,

is what you’d tell yourself. You were always looking to the future for happiness, never choosing to create happiness in the present.

That’s not to say you never felt happy during your time at school, you did… but those moments were few and far in between. Actually, there really only was one place where you felt genuinely happy and that was out on the field. Every time you tie your laces and don your jersey, you felt like you mattered. That for 80 minutes, you weren’t so forgettable. 

You’re not sure what it was, whether it was your teammates calling out for you by your name, your coach on the sidelines cheering you on or your last name ringing around the PA system every time you scored but all you knew was that in those 80 minutes it felt like your presence made a difference.

You were described as wasted talent, a player with so much potential playing with a sub-par team that only dragged you down. The women’s rugby team forever lived in the shadows of your school’s men’s team but that didn’t bother you much because you didn’t play to gain fame. Rugby was your ticket out of this godforsaken town and as long as you played your best, you hoped that it would somehow pay off. Even so, it still baffled you how the school seemed to kiss the feet of the men’s rugby team, hailing their captain as some God while you were merely just another face in the crowd. Being the captain of the women’s rugby team meant nothing but being the captain of the men’s rugby team was everything. Then again, maybe that was because the men’s team had earned more trophies in one year than your team ever did in 3 years.

Kim Namjoon. Captain of the boy’s rugby team. Boy genius and fuckboy extraordinaire. Your interactions with him were few and far in between and most of the time they were barely memorable. The dimpled boy was far too occupied most of the time to give you the time of the day anyway. Girls would fawn over him for his good looks, trying anything to get his attention while you admired him from afar, not for his appearance but for his talent. 

Namjoon was clumsy, often getting into trouble for all the little accidents that he’s been involved in but put Namjoon on a rugby field and all of a sudden it was like he was someone else. That goofy smile he often wore would disappear the moment he put on his boots, replaced with a steely hardened expression instead. The moment the team stood in a line, his mind would work overtime, thinking of stats, possible plays, all this before the game even started. He was a genius, surprising even his coach by the way he would get his team to outsmart the opponents in dire situations and as if that wasn’t enough he was one hell of a kicker. The boy never missed. Never. Okay, he did once and that was only because he had decided to play the game despite everyone telling him to rest his ankle that he had hurt a few days ago in practice. Truly, he was unbelievably stubborn. That was another quality that made him a great player. A frustrating player to deal with and an even more frustrating friend but it was a quality that many felt made him who he was. In any case, he was truly a delight to watch and you attended the games, watching intently. Your eyes were usually trained only on him and of course it didn’t help that his thighs looked oh so delectable in those damn rugby shorts.

For what it was worth, Namjoon always did pique your interest. You always felt like out of everyone in this school, he’d be someone you wouldn’t mind getting to know better but you and him were far too different though. With his exam scores, just about any university would be dying to have him while with your mediocre grades, you really only had rugby going for you. Then of course came the vast difference in both your respective social lives. He was the life of the party while you were never within a 20-metre range of one, save for the one time you actually attended one… a night filled with regrets is what you remember it by. Never again, you told yourself. 

Despite Namjoon’s social status, he never really was one to make another person feel singled out and you liked that about him. He was a bit of an oddball, you’ve noticed. He seemed to have two sides of him; one that would jump around screaming chants with the dudebros and the other that seemed like a 60-year-old trapped in a teenager’s body, or at least that’s what you’ve gathered from sharing a few classes with him. 

Being on complete opposite ends of the high school hierarchy, the two of you had no reason really to speak to each other. The only time you ever had a full conversation with him was the one time he ended up causing you to twist your ankle just a week before graduation. It was a complete accident and it really wasn’t too big of a deal. School was almost over, meaning rugby season was definitely over and there was nothing some rest and a pack of ice couldn’t fix but he had been so remorseful by the end of the incident that you felt he needed more comforting than you did. 

That was the one and only time you ever spoke to him, his soft pleads for you to forgive him and the endless amount of swear words that left his mouth, cursing himself for being so clumsy. You laughed, telling him it was alright and as his eyes flit up to meet yours, you can’t help but notice how he looked absolutely adorable with his eyebrows knitted and the cutest frown you had ever seen.

“It’s Y/N right?” He asks. “God, I’m so sorry,” Namjoon groans.

“It’s alright, really,” You smile.

“How about I give you a ride home to make it up to you? We can stop for ice cream too, just to show you how sorry I am,“ He offers, a nervous smile on his lips as he glances between your swollen ankle and your face.

You turn him down with a light laugh, opting instead to take the bus like you normally do. You try your best to hide your limp from him as you walk away, putting your full weight on your foot despite the heavy pain that shoots up your leg with each step and you turn back just in time to watch him wave you goodbye with a sad smile on his face.

On the bus ride home, you thought about how your first conversation with him had turned out to be a memorable one, only to you at least because you were sure that was one of the last few times you were going to see him and definitely the last time you ever spoke to him. You know that by tomorrow or by the end of the week when graduation comes around, he wouldn’t even remember your face let alone your name.

Leaving high school felt like a dream and you thought nothing could ever beat the elation you felt as you tossed your little black hat towards the sky but then came your acceptance letter to the national sports university, with a scholarship to boot and your heart soared. You sent in your application, with fingers crossed, hoping that a girl like you from some no name high school would finally get a chance to train with the best of the bests because the truth was you didn’t want to be trapped in this town, working behind a cashier till until the day you die.

A new city, a new place, a new you. You were so ready to turn a new leaf, to embody a different persona. This time you were going to be remembered. This time, if you were missing in class, someone was going to notice. This time, you were going to be someone who mattered. You didn’t want to hide in a corner and be known as that quiet girl. You wanted to be outgoing, to be the type of person that could light up a party, the type of person that made people turn their heads at. With nobody from your past to judge you, you think just maybe you could make it happen.

The first half of orientation week passes by in a blur. You were beginning to settle in, to really enjoy yourself. The girls in your dorm were more welcoming than ever and your roommate, Umji was quite possibly the most relaxed person you had ever met. For the first time in forever you felt that just maybe, you belong here. You’ve never laughed so much in your life or enjoyed yourself at a party the way you did here. It was all going well, maybe a little too well.

Come the first week of official training, you’re sat in the department’s hall, listening to mandatory speeches and introductions. You’re sat at the far left amongst some girls you had met at the dorm just a few days ago. There was a buzz of excitement in the room, everyone eager to finally be able to step out on the grass for some long-awaited training.

The short meeting ends and everyone is given the chance to mix and mingle. You knew you had said that you wanted to be more outgoing but standing here, next to your seniors, you could only watch on in awe as you match them to the pictures on the walls. Group photo after group photo, in all of them a trophy is being raised above the captain’s head. You dream of the day you get to make it onto the wall, to see some freshman look at your picture with the same admiration.

Your friends drag you along making you meet freshmen and seniors alike and you oblige, making small talk with whoever that joined the group. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes sweep around the room, letting the fact that yes you had made it, that it was really you that was here standing in the middle of the hall you had always wanted to be in. Out of the corner of your eye, you see someone waving frantically, a sound reminiscent of that of your name being called out but the loud chatter from the hall makes it difficult for you to discern.

Y/N!

Your eyes snap immediately to the boy that’s waving at you from the other side of the hall. His lips curve up into a smile as your eyes meet his and your heart sinks. Oh no. The familiar sight of the dimpled boy felt like a ton of bricks suddenly dropped on you but you brush off the feeling to send a polite nod his way before turning your attention back to the group of girls in front of you.

What in the hell was he doing here?

Last you heard, he was well on his way to the top university in Seoul so why was he here? 

You’re on edge, slightly afraid that he was going to come over but he doesn’t and before you know it, the coaches were announcing the end of the event, a loud clap signaling dismissal. With that, you’re one of the first out of the hall, claiming you had some forms to fill out in the administration building but really, you’re only running to put as much space between you and Namjoon as possible. 

You’re not sure why you’re acting this way. It’s not like he bullied you or anything of the sort but you had worked so hard the past few weeks to create this image for yourself and you were finally getting settled into it, getting comfortable but seeing him just made it feel like you were never going to be able to escape from the person that you were in the past. That you were forever going to be the girl not worth remembering.

You manage to go a week without running into Namjoon, not even seeing him around campus or in the dining hall but it’s Friday night and tonight is the night where the university was holding a dinner to welcome all the new students. You guess a week was a pretty long time and the streak was bound to come to an end but that doesn’t mean you’re any less anxious to see him.

You arrive at the dinner early hoping to get a seat somewhere far away from Namjoon and you think maybe you should’ve came late instead because what are the odds of having the last few empty seats be one that would be next to or in front of Namjoon? Well, it was too late for that, you were already here. You open the double doors that lead to the event hall situated in the union building at the heart of campus and you find a few eager students already seated, all sitting in random spots rather than next to each other… which was weird to say the least. You glance down the long tables, finding a suitable spot and a moment of realization hits you when you find names neatly printed on tiny triangle tents.

You make your way down and up the rows of long tables and you finally find your name somewhere a little off the centre of the middle table. You plop yourself down on the plush chair and pull the table napkin onto your lap as you admire the table décor. Glancing at the name cards next to you, you find Umji on your right and another girl on your team, Sana on your left and you smile to yourself, glad that you had decent company for the night. Next, you reach over across you flipping the name card in your hand to find the name Kim Namjoon, printed in italics. What are the odds, you sigh. You guess your luck had really run out this time.

Looking around the room, you find the other students busy with their phones, none of them paying you any attention. Quickly, you rise to your feet. With Namjoon’s name card in hand, you shuffle down along the row, almost close to the end to replace his name card with another. There’s a light click against the floor, a man coming into full view, a threatening look on his face and jug of water in his hand. He clears his throat before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Excuse me miss, there will be no switching of places,” He states plainly, as if he had said this very line 100 times now.

“Right, of course, sorry,” You apologize with a smile.

Feeling dejected, you trudge back to your seat, placing back the name card in its rightful place. The waiter follows closely behind you as he pours water into your cup once you’re seated. Even as he makes his way down the table to fill the glasses of those who’ve just arrived, he keeps a watchful eye on you, worried that you’d try to switch the cards again, like the many before you who have tried doing the same.

Soon, the hall fills up, people slowly trickling in. You wave at Umji when you notice her looking a little lost, squinting at the name cards on the table. She perks up when she hears you shouting her name and quickly makes her way to you, dragging Sana who was looking just as lost with her.

“Damn, this dinner really is fancy,” Umji marvels at the elegant cutlery on the table once she’s seated, her fingers coming up to feel the maroon cloth that was draped over the table.

“What else did you expect when the invitation said formal wear?” You question.

“I don’t really know but definitely not this,” Umji mumbles, reaching forward to look at the name card placed across hers. Lee Taeyong. Interesting, she muses. She places the card back and reaches for the one next to his. Kim Namjoon.

“Lucky you!” Sana squeals from your other side as she puts the name card opposite hers back into place. “You’ve got the hottie everyone’s been talking about.”

If only she knew what you’d give to have anyone but him sit in front of you. Umji passes the name card to you and you glance up for a while to find the same union staff glaring at you, wagging his index finger at you before pointing for you to put it down. This guy takes his job too seriously, you sigh.

“What’s his problem?” Sana queries, sending an equally rude glare back at the waiter.

“I tried switching the name cards earlier and ever since he’s been watching me like a hawk.”

“Which one? Namjoon’s?” Sana asks, a confused expression on her face.

“Yeah,” You sigh. “I—”

“Are you crazy? Why would you want to switch his card with someone else’s?” Umji interrupts, her hands flying everywhere, as if the notion of you not wanting to sit across Namjoon was simply incredulous.

“We went to the same high school and it’s just… awkward seeing him again.”

“The same high school!?” Sana shouts and you wince away at the volume of her voice.

“Yes,” You answer hastily, avoiding the look she was giving you.

“Why would you withhold such vital information from me? From us?” Sana questions, gesturing between her and Umji.

“It’s not like I was keeping it a secret or anything… It just never came up,” You shrug. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal anyway.”

“Not a big deal,” Umji scoffs. “Of course it is! This means you can confirm if all those rumours about him are true. You’ve heard the rumours haven’t you?”

Ah yes, the rumours. Campus has only been open for two weeks and yet somehow rumours about Namjoon had spread like wildfire. Tales about his good looks, his intelligence and of course his skills… both in rugby and much to your disgust, in bed too. It was entertaining of course to see how the rugby department and even those outside of, was so taken by the boy you had seen almost every day at school for 3 years. It shouldn’t surprise you really… He had managed to garner just as much attention back at high school and it would be foolish for you to think it would be any different here.

“Uh yeah, I guess…” You mumble. “He’s smart and good at rugby—”

“Yeah, whatever, that shit’s not important,” Sana interrupts, waving at you dismissively. “What we’re really interested in is… is he packing? Is his dick really that long? I heard even when flaccid it’s about—”

“Jesus, how the fuck would I know that?” You exclaim, interrupting her because you’re pretty sure you’re not interested in knowing how long his dick was, be it flaccid or erect.

“You said you went to high school with him!”

“And? Just because I did doesn’t mean I’ve seen his dick in person.”

“You mean you didn’t sleep with him? You had someone like him in your class and you didn’t try to get with him?” Umji questions.

“No?”

“Are you a celibate?”

“No, I just—”

“Okay, so you’re just crazy then,” Umji remarks.

“Wait, what? I just wasn’t interested,” You mumble.

“Like I said, crazy.”

“I don’t understand how me not wanting to—”

“You’re trying to say you didn’t think about hopping on his D? Not even once?” Sana asks.

“No, I didn’t. I—”

“Not even for a millisecond?”

“No,” You reiterate, your tone firmer this time because this was just getting ridiculous. “I—”

“You’re right, she’s crazy,” Sana nods.

“Right?”

“Christ, will y’all ever let me speak?” You exclaim with an exasperated groan, the two girls finally fall silent, waiting for you to voice out your thoughts. Just then, a large group of boys walk alongside your table, a few of them taking their seats in your section.

“Well..?” Sana prompts when you choose to stay silent.

“There are—” You shift your eyes to the confused men sat down along the table. “—people,” You whisper.

 “I’m sure they won’t mind listening.”

“No, it’s fine. We can talk later,” You quickly reply, a slight blush beginning to bloom at the attention that the three of you were getting.

“What were you guys talking about?” The boy in front of Umji, Taeyong, asks.

“Namjoon’s d—”

“Diligence! Namjoon’s diligence!” You exclaim frantically completing Umji’s sentence for her. “So, nothing that interesting really…” You laugh nervously.

The boy shrugs at you, not wishing to get himself involved in whatever the hell the three of you were doing.

“Just know that we aren’t done with this conversation,” Umji whispers, a sly smirk on her face.

You let out a deep breath as a new topic of conversation is started, the boys across the table happily chatting with both Sana and Umji. You drop in a few sentences here and there after letting your blush subside, nodding along as you listened to them speak. 

More and more people begin pouring into the hall, the start of the dinner soon approaching. Within minutes, you notice that most of the table has been filled up, every single seat taken… except for the very one before you. The lights begin to dim, the loud chatter dying into quiet whispers and you relax into your seat, hopeful that maybe lady luck was on your side today, that Namjoon had decided not to show up after all.

It’s speech after boring speech, video after video about the history behind the school’s name, the mission and vision of the school. You’re not sure how much longer you can tolerate the same monotonous voice saying basically the same thing but in 50 different ways. If you weren’t so hungry, you would’ve long fallen asleep. A glance down the table shows that just about everyone was feeling the same, a chorus of gurgling stomachs ringing around the room.

After one final video, the tables are released in batches starting from the front of the room to the back. Students hurriedly rush to the buffet laid out and start scooping generous amounts of food onto their plate. You wait in silence as your table finally gets the signal to go ahead and grab some food and a collective groan of relief sounds from all of you sat at the table.

By the time you reach the end of the buffet line, you barely have enough space to fit dessert on your plate but hell you fit it on there anyway. Sana, Umji and yourself are almost running back to the table, already plotting to wolf down whatever was on your respective plates in order to be able to go back for seconds.

When you place your plate down and set yourself down on your seat, you hear the chair opposite you squeak. Your head perks up to find the familiar dimpled boy with a mountain of food on his plate.

“Y/N,” He smiles and you return it nervously before turning your attention to your food. Damn it. So lady luck wasn’t on your side then, you sigh.

“What the hell? Did you just get here?” Taeyong questions as he places his plate on the table.

“Yup, joined the queue right behind all of— What the fuck? Stop stealing my fries!” Namjoon groans.

“You didn’t sit through the 2 hour shit-show that we had to endure so I don’t think you deserve any of the food on your plate.”

There’s a chorus of agreeing murmurs down the table and Namjoon simply scowls as he watches those around him help themselves to the food piled on his plate.

Once most of you have a fair amount of food in your system, the atmosphere around the table starts to lighten up. Friendly banter is exchanged and a variety of topics are discussed amongst you. The hall was definitely a lot livelier compared to just 20 minutes ago when most of you were just plain hangry.

Impeccable, Namjoon muses. His timing was simply impeccable and he gladly eats whatever remained of what is his third helping as he listened in on the conversation you were having with Taeyong and the girls. He laughs as Taeyong recounts the horrible speeches all of you were made to listen and he mentally pats himself on the back for forgetting to set an alarm to wake him up from his nap. Namjoon seriously debated missing the dinner all together as he stirred from his nap but he’s glad he didn’t stay in because honestly, Namjoon was mildly surprised with tonight to say the least and there were two reasons for that. 

One, the food was really good and he means really good. Whatever they were serving tonight tasted like heaven compared to the crap they served at the dining hall and damn he almost feels like going back for a fourth round.

Two, you’re sitting right in front of him. Of course, not by your own choice, but hey he’ll take what he can get. It was odd because you seemed a lot more comfortable here in university and definitely a lot happier compared to your time back in high school. This is the first time he’s seen you smile for longer than 5 seconds outside of the rugby field and that very fact makes him smile too. He watches you throughout the night with a light feeling of amusement and a slight sense of regret because you’re actually speaking… saying more than just yes and no, telling stories without others prompting you, being witty, funny and absolutely magnetic which is entirely different from the almost silent Y/N he used to glance at every so often in class.

Namjoon is so busy admiring the new you that he misses most of the conversation happening around him until he hears his name being called out and his focus quickly snaps back to the table.

"So, Namjoon, you’ve seen Y/N play in high school yeah? Tell us… is she as amazing as they say?” Umji asks.

“What why would you—” You smack Umji on the arm. “Namjoon you don’t have to answer th—" 

“She is,” He muses. “Better than the rumours I’d say.”

“No! Don’t listen to him,” You laugh, trying to interrupt the hoots that were causing everyone up and down the table to look at your section. “The rumours are bullshit. I’m good but not that good.”

“But your high school women’s rugby team was unheard of… Your team didn’t even play in the first division,” Sana hums. “So you’ve got to be that good to be offered a place here.”

A chorus of agreeing murmurs, a heavy weight now sitting on your chest as people join in on the conversation, new rumours being concocted. 

If she isn’t that good… then she must’ve paid her way in.

Ha, you wish you had enough money for that to even be a viable option for you

Or maybe she slept with the dean. Heard he’s into younger ones.

Yeah, no, that’s gross and though you’re sure there are people who might consider doing that, you’re not one of them

Curious eyes watch you as they await your answer and you gulp nervously.

“I-I—” You stammer, unsure what to say now that everyone seemingly has taken interest in the conversation the four of you were having. “Maybe the scouts were just charmed by my good looks,” You grin, hoping the joke would lighten the atmosphere, take away the pressure you felt from the piercing stares.

Umji rolls her eyes at you before a light laugh bubbles up her throat. 

“Come on, just tell us the truth,” She elbows you lightly, urging you to stop with the jokes.

“I’m really not as good as they say…”

"She’s lying. I’ve seen her play and she’s amazing,” Namjoon answers, bringing up a napkin to wipe at his mouth nonchalantly.

"Seen me play?” You laugh. “Yeah like only that one time when you were ‘subtly’ trying to get Hani to go out with you,” You scoff.

Ooh, snarky. He likes that.

“Ahh… you knew about that? All I have to say about that is that it worked,” He smiles. “Anyway Y/N, I’m hurt,” He pouts, clutching at his chest dramatically. “Of course I attended all your home games. Like you did mine,” He smirks and your smile fades because shit… you always thought he never noticed, that nobody did. Namjoon could see your cheeks starting to flush red and he smiles. It was simply adorable for you to think that he wouldn’t notice someone like you watching him at his games.

“B-bullshit.”

“Hmm? You think I’m lying?” He questions. “About you attending my games or myself attending yours?”

“Both.”

“Okay third row, aviator sunglasses & black cap wearing person, I guess you can say I haven’t noticed you there like all the time… except that one game where you coincidentally weren’t in school because you were down with the flu,” He shrugs and your gaze falters because damn it, he was right. “I guess you can also say just about every other girl dresses up like that—“ Crap. There goes your comeback. “—but hey, I’m pretty sure I’d be able to pick out a girl like you any time,” He smirks, his stare tearing through the facade of fake confidence you had been putting up. “In any case, there’s nothing wrong with a being a fan. You’re not the only one,” Namjoon winks.

Your mouth goes dry because who was this guy sitting in front of you? The Namjoon you knew barely took the time out of his day to do anything but smile at you. Yet, here he was, saying things that made butterflies flutter in your stomach and your cheeks flush. D-did he just wink at you too? Was he… flirting? With… you? You had spent years watching him do the very same to all the girls in the hallway and you used to scoff at them when they turned all dreamy-eyed when he stood in front of them but here you were doing exactly the same thing. To be fair, you never thought you’d find yourself in this position.

Namjoon smirks at the fact that he had just rendered you speechless. You open your mouth to try and reply but it only hangs open, your finger pointing at him threateningly but no words leave your mouth.

Like a saving grace, there is a tap on the mic, the sound reverberating across the room, everyone’s attention now turned to the front of the hall. There is a short speech, one that you assume is supposed to feel you with fervour, to reach higher and bring glory to the school’s name but you only feel like shrinking away at the way Namjoon is staring at you. As the speech comes to a close, claps ring around the room and you let out a sigh of relief, glad that the night was finally over. You had barely gotten out of your chair when Umji and Sana are quite literally dragging you out of the hall. Not that you were resisting… you wanted to be out of there too.

 "Holy shit,“ Umji laughs. "Namjoon totally has the hots for you. The one guy everyone in this department has been talking about, has the hots for you.”

“He doesn’t,” You snort. “Namjoon’s just like that with anyone that has a pair of boobs and an ass.”

"Nah,” Sana shakes her head. “He was totally dying to speak to you all night but you kept ignoring the poor boy.”

“You know, I really love all these stories you guys are spinning but you’re gonna have to try harder,” You smile. “We were in the same school for 3 years and we barely spoke so why would that suddenly change? He was just trying to use me to get everyone’s attention and it worked,” You shrug.

“Listen, the both of you are definitely going to end up together by the end of the academic year. It’s going to be one of those classic cases of I can’t believe I didn’t notice you in high school but now you’re my whole world,“ Umji brings her hand up to her forehead to sigh dramatically. "Mark my words,” She points at you with a sly smile on her face.

“Since you’re so confident, lets bet on it,” You smirk. “If I end up with him before the academic year is up, I’ll go skinny dipping in the lake on campus in broad daylight. If I don’t, you have to.”

“You’re on,” Umji smiles, shaking your hand. “Girl, you’re going to regret this so bad. The both of you are going to be dating before this semester even ends. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” You sigh, dismissing her with a wave of a hand. “All I’m saying is you better think of how you’re going to explain to your parents why you were found swimming in a public lake, naked.”

“What’s this?” A voice booms, the three of you whipping around to find its owner. “Making skinny­­ dipping plans without me? Ladies, I’m offended,” Namjoon muses and after the initial shock, you feel like gagging in your mouth. How is it that all the girls fawned over a guy as sleazy as him?

“Namjoon! Oh no, we would never,” Sana grins. “A year from now, you’re cordially invited to go skinny dipping with our beloved Y/N.”

“A year? You girls really plan ahead. I like that,” He laughs. “Anyway, just Y/N? I was hoping all 4 of us could go,” He pouts.

You let out a light laugh and send both Sana and Umji a knowing look, one that said, I told you this guy only thinks with his dick.

There’s a mangled mess of unclear mumbled sentences that leave both the girls’ mouth, the two of them unsure of what to say.

Umji’s head suddenly perks up as she makes a show of looking at the time on her phone. 

“Shit, Sana don’t we have that meeting to attend like right now?”

“Huh what—” A kick to the shin from Umji, a subtle one but you notice it anyway. “Oh right, we do!” Sana answers with too much excitement. Pathetic. They could at least try to make their acting believable.

“Sorry but we have to go and—”

“What meeting is this?” You ask.

“A floor meeting. You know to explain the dorm rules.”

“The both of you don’t even live on the same floor,” You scoff. “Also Umji… I’m your roommate. Did you forget?”

Panic flashes across her face but she’s grabbing Sana’s hand and dragging her down the path with her. “Namjoon, make sure Y/N gets back safe yeah?” Sana shouts out.

“W-wait for me! What the—” You shout, trying to run after them but Namjoon holds you back by your wrist.

“Ah, where do you think you’re going?” Namjoon clicks his tongue at you, a look of warning on his face, as if you’ve been caught committing a crime.

“Back to my dorm because apparently I have a floor meeting to attend.”

“Come on Y/N. Anyone with a pair of eyes could’ve seen she was lying through her teeth,” He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you back to your dorm safe and sound.”

“But, I—”

“They obviously left you here with me because they want us to have a lovely walk together, don’t you think?”

“They left me here with you because they’re assholes.”

“Ouch,” He winces. “First you ignore me all night and then you make it seem like being here with me is a punishment.”

“I- what? I wasn’t ignoring you at all,” You mumble.

“Sure… looking away every time I looked at you isn’t what you’d call ignoring me?”

“It isn’t… it was just a mere coincidence that I looked away each time,” You shrug, kicking away the leaves at your feet with each step.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” He snorts. “I remember you running away the day we first met on campus. Was that a coincidence too? That you suddenly had something to do?”

“Uhh, yeah… I had some documents I needed to get signed,” You lie. “Actually, what are you doing here anyway? In this university?” You ask quickly, trying to change the subject.

“I’m here to play this sport you see… Basically there are 15 of us in a team and we run around the field with an egg-shaped ball which we can only pass backwards. It’s called rugby. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Ha ha, very funny Namjoon,” You answer with a roll of your eyes. "It’s just last I heard, you were heading off to Yonsei University or something. What happened to that?”

“My studies can wait,” He shrugs. “Yonsei University will always be there but my youth and a chance at a rugby career won’t.”

“And your parents are okay with that decision?”

“It took some convincing, but they’re fine with it now.”

There’s a comfortable silence that settles between the both of you as you let his words sit in, only the sounds of leaves crunching beneath your feet as the both of you make your way back to the dorms. You take in a deep breath, letting your eyes marvel at the way the branches sway in the autumn breeze, admiring how Namjoon had the luxury of making a decision like that. How his family stood behind a choice that basically changed the course of his life. You can’t imagine your parents ever willingly let you choose sports over academics.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon blurts out, a light sigh accompanying his sentence.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats.

“W-what for?”

“You seem a lot happier here than you were in high school and I should’ve tried to—”

“Namjoon, please,” You laugh. “How is or rather was my happiness your responsibility at all?”

“No I just mean… I could’ve been friendlier because I just always thought you…” He pauses, trying to find the right words to complete his sentence.

"Hated socialising?” You offer.

“Well, more like hated the world in general,” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. “You always looked like you were going to bite anyone who approached you.”

“Ah, the curse of the resting bitch face,” You shrug. “In any case it really wasn’t your fault. I just had a… complex back then,” You laugh.  

Namjoon opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off quickly, words spilling out of your mouth before you have the chance to filter your thoughts.

“You were plenty friendly actually,” You smile and Namjoon lifts his eyebrows in surprise. It always seemed like you barely noticed him throughout high school. Sometimes he wondered if he had done something wrong. That he had possibly pissed you off somehow because all you ever did was nod at him boredly whenever he asked a question in an attempt to start a conversation. “In fact, I always thought out of everyone in our school, you would be someone I’d get along with,” You blurt out, unsure as to why you felt the need to say that.

“As in just friends? Nothing… you know… more?” He smirks, a playful glint in his eyes and you scoff. This guy was simply unbelievable.

“How about you try keeping it in your pants for once, yeah?” You scowl.

“I’ve tried,” He sighs heavily. “It’s not my fault the ladies are always begging for it.”

“You know, I change my mind. I don’t think you and I would be good friends at all,” You sneer, taking two large steps to put some distance between you and him, muttering insults under your breath.

“Hey, I’m joking Y/N,” He laughs, jogging to catch up to you. “I’d be more than happy to be friends with my no. 1 fan.”

“This again,” You groan. “You know everyone at our school attended your rugby games. Our school basically revolved around your team.”

“Hey, I never said there was anything wrong with attending my games but I know when someone’s staring and you my friend, always had your eyes on me.”

“I-I… coach asked me to watch you,” You stutter. “Something about how I could learn a thing or two about being a less aggressive No. 8,” You continue with a scoff, waving your hands in the air as if it was a ridiculous suggestion.

Namjoon laughs, boisterously so and you cross your arms, an obvious frown on your face. 

See, both you and Namjoon play at the same position but the two of you were vastly different players. You were an aggressive player, always playing risky moves that called for your team to push forward with such force, yourself joining in tackling players when you see fit. Your coach often described your style of play as dangerous, one that was dictated by your excitement, opening your team up to devastating counter-attacks at times but somehow you always pulled your team back together just in time. Lucky, your coach would scoff but really how was it that you were that lucky every single time?

Instead of sitting back on the field, you were very much involved in forward play, making you one of the No. 8’s with the highest amount of tries in your school’s history. Not that there really was anyone in the previous teams that you could really call an opponent. You were the best player your school’s women rugby team has ever seen.

Namjoon on the other hand was regarded as an intelligent player, a safe player. His risks were calculated and his moves well thought through. He never really let anything up to chance and perhaps that too was his downfall. Though his plays guaranteed results what sealed the deal was Namjoon’s jaw dropping accuracy. In his whole high school career, you could count on one hand the amount of times Namjoon had missed a kick. Every time he stood up to kick either a penalty or conversion, his opponents would let out a sigh, already knowing the ball would be going through the space between the two metal poles. Truthfully, it baffled you how the boy who seemingly had two left feet off the field managed to coordinate his hands and feet so well for the duration of 80 minutes. 

“It’s true,” Namjoon muses. “You play with your heart, not your head and that’s dangerous.”

“Well, you play rugby like it’s a math problem you have to solve and that’s predictable, boring even.”

“My style of play may be boring but at least I get results,” He shrugs. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Namjoon sees your face crumple in pain and he instantly regrets his previous sentence. He was just so caught up in the fact that you were talking to him, joking around with him that he had forgotten that you and him were practically strangers and he had no right to say something like that… even if it was just a joke.

“Sorry,” He mumbles. “I didn’t really mean that. I was just joking.”

“It’s fine,” You laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s the truth anyway,” You sigh, thinking back to the few times you had sat in the locker room alone, mentally punishing yourself for being unable to bring your team to victory.

“Come on, everyone knows your team’s results had less to do with you and more to do with the fact that your team consisted of girls who barely knew how to play.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my former teammates like that,” You frown and he laughs because it’s endearing how you protected those girls as if they were your sisters when in truth, they seemed to forget about you the moment the final whistle of the game is sounded.

“You and I both know that most of the girls joined the rugby team solely because us rugby kids get to skip school to travel to our away games.”

“That is… debatable,” You murmur. “Anyway, I just… I could’ve done better.”

“Like I said earlier Y/N, I watched all your home games and I know how good you are,” He smiles and you lift an eyebrow at him suspiciously as if to make known that you didn’t believe a word he was saying. “My coach made me watch you too,” He admits with a shy smile. “Something about learning a thing or two about being a more spontaneous player,” He shrugs, rolling his eyes at you playfully.

“Your coach is a smart man,” You smile, patting him on the back. “Still think you’re lying about watching my games. The bleachers were almost empty every time and I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if you were there.”

“Ah, yeah you caught me. I definitely wasn’t at any of your games,” He sighs. “I wasn’t there at the game against the Ravens where you damn near ripped off all of the hair of their captain’s head. You’re so violent,” He shakes his head.

“Hey! She was asking for it alright?” You shout, your brows furrowed in anger as you remember the incident.

“Calm down,” He laughs. “It was an insane foul, I know." 

Yeah, he more than knows. He almost ran out on the field to give the girl a piece of his mind too. How dare she. How dare she hurt you.

It takes you more than a moment to calm down, the damn smirk that girl wore taunting you in your mind. It’s been more than a year since that game but god, it still plays in the back of your head from time to time.

She had taken you down with deliberate intent of injuring you. An above the waist tackle, one she had hoped would immobilise you for a while or for a long time, she was fine with either. Basically, her end goal was to get you stretchered off the field. It had taken you by her surprise, her take down but you twisted your body in time to make sure your head was safe. The fall still knocked the wind out of your lungs but you were awake, aware. With your vision still a little hazy, it felt like the world was spinning but your body screamed at you, shouted for you to move your foot and you watched as a boot stamped the grass just where your ankle had been a millisecond ago. A short, sly smirk played at her lips before she flipped around to shout for the medics, pleading with the referee, explaining that it had been a mistake, that she had no intention of hurting you. 

The referee for the game was an old man barely able to keep up with the pace and the linesmen hadn’t really been paying attention because they were only here for some extra cash so all in all nobody saw anything. Nobody who mattered at least. She got off with only a yellow card despite your protests and she turned back towards you when no one was looking to spit at you. You stand there shouting curses at her only for the referee to turn around and show you a yellow card too. Rage coursed through your body throughout the rest of the game and you made sure to milk them off every single possible point you could. Your coach had never seen you as determined as that game and he made a mental note of never to piss you off or maybe he should if he ever really needed you to win a game.

"Neither was I there for the game against the Panthers where you pulled that extremely risky play and your coach was so pissed I swear you could hear his screams over a mile away. But you guys won that game and he couldn’t really say anything,” He laughs, shaking his head as he remembers the way your coach watched with his mouth agape as you put the ball down past the touch line, flashing finger guns at him with a knowing smile.

Well… that was true. Your coach had been fuming but you knew that play was the only way your team would secure a try. You saw the hole in their defence and you only had a split second to decide so you went with your gut, hurtling down past the players to the end of the field yourself.

“And oh! The other time you were so happy you won that you almost ripped off your sh—”

“Okay! I believe you!” You shout, not wanting Namjoon to continue that story and he laughs at the way a light blush has started to tint your cheeks. 

The both of you come to a halt as you stand in front of the dorms and Namjoon clasps his hand together as his laughter dies out.

“See, told you I’d get you back home safe,” He smiles. 

“Gee thanks, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I mean it’s not like the streets are completely lit and there aren’t another 30 students all walking back to the same place,” You grumble. “If anything, it’s more dangerous walking home with you. You’re practically an accident waiting to happen,” You wrinkle your nose.

“Ah Y/N, ever so bitter, ever so ungrateful,” He sighs. “Come on, I’ll let your little comment slide if you kiss me,” He leans forward, pointing at his lips.

"No thanks,” You laugh, turning your back to him, walking towards the entrance of your dorm.

“Alright, just a peck on the cheek then?”

Silence. Your hips swaying as you walked further away from him. 

“How about a hug?”

He watches as you walk through the door, turning back only to wave a middle finger at him as the door shuts.

Damn. There it was, that fluttering feeling in his heart. 

Somewhere in the world, a middle finger equated to a kiss right?

Stubborn. Holy shit was Namjoon stubborn. Forever pestering you for that kiss, be it on the lips or the cheek and you were so close, so close to socking him in the face but… you needed his help in that stupid anatomy class. Every time the two of you study together, he would remind you that each question came with a charge, that being a kiss of course. You disregard his stupid rule because it’s simply nonsensical but at the end of each study session he reminds you of the grand total and at the end of the most recent lesson, he tells you that you’ve managed to accumulate a staggering 361 kisses which you have yet to pay, 4 away from a year’s worth, he winks. You’re pretty sure the number is made up because he’s childish like that and you’re not sure why he’s keeping this up when he knows he’s not going to get one not even a single kiss from you, not on the lips, not on the cheek, not even on his damn hand. Still, Namjoon keeps it up in hopes that one day you might cave.

He’s annoying, like a mosquito constantly buzzing in your ear no matter how many times you swat at the air around your head. On the field at practice, he’s there, winking at you and of course all the other girls on the field. At the weights room, he’s there, especially when you’re doing squats, asking you if you needed him to spot you and you made the mistake of letting him spot you once. All he did was stare at your ass and ever since then you don’t even bother acknowledging him when you’re at the squats rack. Even in the damn cafeteria, he’s there! It’s like you could never get a rest. 

By this time, everyone in the department has heard of Namjoon’s tiny obsession over you and it’s hilarious to everyone… except you. While Namjoon was busy charming girls with his sleazy lines, everywhere you go, you’re referred to as Namjoon’s girl when in fact, he doesn’t own you, nobody does! The boy makes it his mission to ruin any chance you have with anyone that wasn’t him. Every time you’re at a party or even in class, getting along with someone from the opposite sex, you have to glance around to make sure Namjoon wasn’t going to suddenly pop in, put his arm around you and call you his babygirl. 

When he called you babygirl, there really wasn’t any meaning behind it, it was simply a name he had given you on a whim but you still hated it because it didn’t sit well with you and well it scared all the guys away. The title babygirl essentially shouted off limits to anyone who was interested and it pissed you off obviously but no matter how many times you beg, he doesn’t listen. 

You tried calling him babyboy for a week to show him what it was like, hoping it would scare away all his dates but it did nothing. The girls were unfazed and they kept coming despite you hanging off his shoulder and calling him the disgusting pet name. It was a frustrating week for you but it was basically the best week of Namjoon’s life because you came up and hugged him from behind to scare off the brunette he was talking to that one day. You asked him about his lunch plans with your arm wrapped around his middle and for the first time he found himself speechless. Despite the death glare you give her, the girl still grabs the phone out of Namjoon’s hand, punching in her number with a smirk. Call me, she smiles, her tone sweet and sultry before she waves him goodbye.

“What. the. fuck. It’s like they don’t even care that I’m here,” You groan exasperatedly, stepping away from Namjoon. “Why can’t guys be like that when they see you? Why do they always run away?”

“Because I’m threatening and you… well you’re just not.”

“I am!” You shout, furrowing your eyebrows and placing your hands on your hips.

“See, you just look like a 5-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.”

“Yeah we’ll see who you’re calling a 5 year old when I have you on the damn ground begging me to stop,” You glower, throwing punches and kicks at Namjoon.

Namjoon evades your attacks easily, all the while laughing at your little outburst.

“Yeah? So, you like it rough, do you?” He questions. “I can do rough,” He smirks.

“God, why do you have to make everything sexual?”

“I don’t know babygirl, that’s just the effect you have on me.”

“Fuck off and stop calling me that,” You groan, bringing your hand up to rub at your temples. “You’re so annoying. I hate you,” You grumble, turning around to walk back to the field.

“Aw, babygirl—” He shouts, pointing at you, causing everyone in the vicinity to look at you.

“Namjoon, don’t,” You warn.

“—I love you too!" 

Fucking asshole.

You’re livid, annoyed beyond belief as all week various students from the rugby department come up to you to laugh at you, throwing Namjoon’s aw, babygirl, I love you too! at you. Honestly, you’ve had enough of all this and you just really wanted the high school Namjoon back, the one that never so much as glanced your way but nooo, you’re stuck with this big ego and fuckboy extraordinaire of a Namjoon. 

Damn, no matter what you said, he would never listen to you and for some unknown reason he liked to tease you relentlessly. You had intended to give him the silent treatment, to avoid him completely after that stupid stunt he pulled on the field but the deadline for that extra credit assignment for your anatomy class was coming up soon and you didn’t understand a single fucking thing. With a hesitant sigh, you lift your phone and call him. If all you had to do was bear him for less than an hour in order to get this assignment done, then you guess it’s not such a bad deal after all. The dial tone doesn’t even go past one beep before Namjoon is picking up your call and within minutes, you see him sauntering towards you.

"How’ve you been babygirl?” Namjoon grins, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Stop fucking calling me that,” You warn, jabbing him in the chest with your index finger.

“Never,” He smiles. “So, what do you need help with?”

“I don’t get this worksheet. What do T cells have to do with cellular immunity?”

“Ah, question no. 362! 3 more to go,” He smiles. “Anyway, basically it’s just that they attack—”

“When will you quit with the stupid counting?”

“363,” He smiles. “Not anytime soon.”

“Wait, that wasn’t even an academic question!” You exclaim. “Why did you count that one?”

“364. Because I count every question the minute our study session begins.”

“I knew the number was bogus,” You laugh. “You’re pathetic you know that?”

“That makes 365. You owe me a year’s worth of kisses now Y/N,” He grins. “That’s a real hefty debt, babygirl. How do you plan on paying it off?”

“I don’t because this is ridiculous.”

“Well you don’t really have to kiss me 365 times as per se…” He mumbles. “How about I cut you a deal? Make out with me for 10 minutes and I’ll count it as a 100.”

“No.”

“Okay fine, let me touch your boobs and I’ll let you get away with 200.”

“No.”

“Come on, how is that not a fair deal?”

“There is no deal that I’m willing to take because I never agreed to this whole thing anyway!” You shout.

"350 for a handjob. Take it or leave it.”

“What part of no or never do you not understand?”

“Evidently, none of it,” He shrugs. “Tell you what… Come to the party tonight and I’ll wipe the slate clean.”

“Sure,” You shrug, nonchalantly. You were already planning on going so there was no harm in agreeing to this stupid thing anyway.

Namjoon stares back, mouth agape and for a second, he is left speechless because fuck, you finally agreed to something for once.

"Wait. I meant come to the party and let me cup your ass and I’ll wipe the slate clean.”

“Fuck you,” You stand up to gather your things.

“Hey! Wait! I didn’t answer the question you had,” He laughs, grabbing your wrist.

"Forget it,” You sigh, shaking off his hold. “I’m going to our professor’s office hours because at least there I’ll get my answer without getting harassed.”

“You sure about that?” Namjoon questions, holding onto the strap of your backpack to stop you from leaving. “I hear our prof is actually quite the perv.”

“I doubt he can be any worse than you,” You quip as you tug the strap out of his grip and walk away.

And you were right, your professor was in no way anywhere close to a pervert. In fact, he looked a little timid as you sat in front of him, asking question after question. It was great not having to brush off some flirty comment every other minute but what was not great was that you weren’t getting any answers to your questions… at least not the ones you were looking for. The problem with some professors is that the very fact that they’re smarter than the general population hinders their ability to teach well. When they start explaining things, they go into too much detail, effectively confusing you even further. You went in there not knowing one thing and left not knowing even more things plus the original thing you were confused about. It’s fine, you sigh. You’ll get Namjoon to give you the answers tomorrow.

You arrive at the party with your head spinning from the pre-game at another senior’s house, having had one drink too many. Umji had been shoving drinks your way all night because she wanted to see you drunk and for some reason, you gladly gulped down each drink. You stroll towards the couch in the middle of the room with a mega-watt smile and Namjoon can only laugh as he sees you struggle to walk in those heels of yours.

"Hey babygirl, you look happy,” He remarks as you step closer to him.

"Very,” You smile, gesturing for him to move a little so that you could sit but he shakes his head at you.

“Please,” You beg. “These heels are killing me.”

Yeah and they were killing him too. Your calves and ass looked simply delicious with the help of those stilettos.

“There’s a seat for you right here, babygirl,” He smirks, patting his thigh.

He expects a fuck you or maybe a middle finger shoved at his face but he didn’t expect this.

You place yourself down on his lap gently while rolling your eyes at him as your hand comes around to hang off his shoulder.

Namjoon shifts underneath you, trying hard not to pop a boner right in the middle of a senior’s living room. He places his hand at the curve of your waist, reveling in the way you seem to be completely at ease being this close to him. 

“Comfortable?”

You nod your head, shifting ever so slightly, your ass rubbing against his member. Namjoon squeezed your side involuntarily, gulping as he tried to keep himself calm. You throw him a confused look and he plays it off with a wink. Jesus, what was he 15? Namjoon lets out a shaky breath, baffled as to how you were able to rile him up like this with all your clothes on no less. He glances at you to find you completely unbothered though, busy typing away on your phone.

“You know it’s rude to sit on someone’s lap and not pay them any attention?”

“Well it’s not like I want to sit on your lap, you refused to make space for me on the couch,” You retort, your fingers still tapping away at your screen. Namjoon takes a glimpse at the text you’re typing and he can’t help but laugh.

“Taeyong’s never going to find this party if you keep sending him gibberish.”

“I’m trying very hard to type it right, okay? I just have abnormally fat fingers.”

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t the reason why you can’t even type the word street right,” He laughs, grabbing the phone from you to type in the address properly. “There,” He sighs, pressing the send button.

“I didn’t know you were that close to Taeyong,” He mumbles, his thumb gliding down the side of your screen.

"We’re not close.”

“You had lunch with him on Tuesday.”

“How do you know that? Are you scrolling through my texts?”

You move to take your phone back but Namjoon pulls it away out of your reach.

“Namjoon,” You groan. “I’m too drunk for this.”

“Wait, you had lunch with him last week too!”

“Stop reading my texts!”

“Cool, I’ll see you there love,” Namjoon reads out the text aloud. “He calls you love?”

“Yeah.”

“And you let him?”

“He calls everyone love.”

“He doesn’t call me love,” He counters and you only give him an unamused look.

"Namjoon, just give me my phone back.”

“No,” He grumbles. “Why is he allowed to call you love? You literally lose your shit every time I call you babygirl.”

“I already told you,” You groan. “He calls everyone love. Also, you call me babygirl just to spite me.”

“I don’t,” He mumbles. “I mean it when I call you my babygirl,” He smirks, his hand slipping from your waist to move towards your ass.

“Move your hand any further down and I’ll cut it off.”

“As violent as always,” He laughs, placing his hand back at your waist.

“Namjoon, my phone please,” You whine.

“Okay, okay but how about a picture to celebrate this momentous occasion? I mean Y/N herself sitting on my lap. Life doesn’t get any better.”

“Will you give me my phone back after?”

“Of course,” He smiles, raising the phone up.

You smile for what is ages but Namjoon refuses to take the picture.

“Well, any day now Namjoon.”

“Come closer.”

You let out a deep sigh before moving closer, your face practically next to his but he still doesn’t take the picture.

“What now?”

Namjoon smiles, his index finger tapping at his cheek.

“No.”

“No kiss, no phone,” He shrugs.

You wrestle with him, attempting to get your phone out of his hand but he raises it far above your head, completely out of your reach.

"Look, you put this off and I’m going to upgrade it to a kiss on the lips.”

You let out an exasperated sigh before you relent, placing a short quick kiss to his cheek. Namjoon attempts to turn to catch your lips but he’s too slow. You pull away, wagging your index finger at him as you smirk at him.

“I’m drunk but not that drunk, babyboy,” You tease and as stupid as it sounds, Namjoon’s heart skips a beat at the nickname.

"I had to try,” He shrugs coolly, trying his best to suppress the fluttering he felt in his chest.

Namjoon manages to fiddle around with your phone some more before you force him to give you your phone back. Just as he begins his sentence, you’re being dragged away by Umji for another round of shots and Namjoon only sighs as he watches you disappear into the kitchen. As the night unfolds, Namjoon has to admit that he enjoys the drunk version of you because drunk you always said the best things. He’s only seen you drunk twice though that being now and one time back in high school. You had said far more interesting things back then but then again you were borderline black out drunk then and you were plenty conscious now seeing that you were fast enough to catch his kiss trick. Either way, the night ends all too soon in his opinion. He barely got to speak to you all night but you sat on his lap for 10 minutes so basically, tonight was a victory in his book anyway.

Mornings. Namjoon loves mornings because they are usually calm, quiet, a huge contrast to a crazy night out but you don’t seem to understand the concept of peaceful mornings because-

“Namjoon I’m going to fucking kill you. Do you know how many notifications I got because of your stupid little stunt?”

Namjoon winces at the sheer volume of your voice, quickly pressing down on the side buttons on his phone to make sure his eardrums don’t ache by the end of the conversation.

You see, much like Namjoon, you enjoyed peaceful mornings too but this very morning was anything but peaceful. You’re awaken first by Umji’s screaming and before your blurry eyes could adjust to the bright morning light that was filtering in through the blinds, she is shoving her phone in your face. You stare at the post in disbelief for a few too many seconds until Umji has to shake you out of your trance.

Y/N L/N

is in a relationship with Kim Namjoon

You read the words over and over again before you look down at the picture and then at the words again. You knew the picture was a mistake and you knew that Namjoon had taken way too long to send that picture to himself last night. You should’ve known he would have done something like this. Asshole, you mumble under your breath. That sneaky little man had sent himself a relationship request with the picture attached with your phone last night and you had no clue at all until you were woken up this morning. You scramble around your bed to look for your phone and your lockscreen is filled with notifications, many wishing you congratulations, your phone constantly vibrating as new comments pour in. You know how it looks, so real, so believable especially since it was ‘you’ who had posted it. You delete the post as soon as possible before you’re picking up the phone to dial Namjoon’s number.

“Aw is my girlfriend finding all the attention difficult to handle?” He coos.

"Fuck you. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m actually going to punch you in the throat the next time I see you.”

“So violent,” He sighs. “I think we need to attend couples therapy if we want this to work.”

“You think you’re real funny don’t you?”

“Hilarious, actually,” He smiles.

"Fix this Namjoon before I actually walk over to your dorm and strangle you with my bare hands,” You seethe, stomping around your room.

"I didn’t know you were into choking, babygirl,” He smirks. “The good news is I’m a big fan actually,” He shrugs before stretching out on his bed.

"Stop making things sexual.”

“You started it,” He retorts.

"I will literally castrate you if the next sentence that comes out of your mouth isn’t alright, i’ll fix it.”

“Alright, I’ll fix it.”

“Good,” You smile

"Babyg—”

Namjoon is met with the end dial tone and a light laugh escapes him. God, you were simply adorable whenever you were mad.

You’re fuming, pacing up and down your room and Umji can’t seem to stop laughing at how angry you were. You wait no less than 5 minutes before you hear an alert tone on your phone.

Namjoon has tagged you in a post.

Not bad, you shrug. At least the boy knew how to listen and fix—

Kim Namjoon

Due to some unforeseen circumstances, Y/N and I will be taking a break. We intend to work through this and come back as a stronger couple. Thank you all for your well wishes. Don’t worry babygirl, we’ll get through this rough patch!

Son of a bitch.

Hate didn’t even help describe how much you despised him. You wait 2 maybe 3 minutes and your phone starts to vibrate every 5 seconds, a new comment on the post with each minute. You’re on the verge of storming over to grab him by the collar and make him type out a long apology post but your head is pounding from the killer hangover you have so, you merely block Namjoon on every single possible social media outlet and you waste no time blocking his number too.

You gave Namjoon the ‘silent treatment’ just about every other day in the week and you always caved but this time you don’t. It’s been almost a week and you still haven’t spoken a word to him despite his numerous tries. Okay, maybe he took the joke a little too far this time but he craved your attention and the only way he would get it was to pull a stunt of this magnitude.

It must be Namjoon’s lucky day because he finally spots you alone today, delightedly enjoying your snack in the dining hall. He quickly scurries over before anyone joins you because he absolutely hates it when you do that thing where you talk to everyone except him, making it seem like he wasn’t even there.

“Hey babyg—, Y/N.” He corrects after the glare you give him. “Still mad at me?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Aw, come on. It was just a joke,” He smiles, his hand coming around to rest across your shoulders.

“Don’t touch me,” You warn, a single finger pointing at him.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs. “I took it too far and I’m sorry.”

You pay him no attention, simply continuing to munch on your snack.

“What will it take for you to forgive me?” He asks.

He’s only met in silence as you continue to scroll through your phone with one hand and hold your snack in the other.

“Hey, Y/N, come on… I’m sorry, I really am,” He pouts and your eyes flit up to meet his this time. The look he has on is reminiscent to the one back in high school when he had been the reason for your sprained ankle. You almost feel like reaching over to pat him on the head.

“I’ll make it up to you alright? What do you want me to do?”

You stare at him for a while before munching on your snack again and Namjoon lets out a heavy sigh before placing his head on the table so he could meet your gaze.

“How about dinner at that sushi place so far off campus that you haven’t been able to go to because no one wants to go with you?”

“How do you know that…” You mumble. You’re pretty sure you still had him blocked on all your social media and that had been something you posted two days ago.

“I have my ways,” Namjoon smiles. “So how about it babygirl? Dinner on me?”

“Fine,” You grumble. “This doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you though. I just want free sushi.”

“Of course,” He laughs, nodding but he sees a hint of a smile on your face and he already knows you’ve forgiven him. It’s not like he wanted to do all of this and sit through a week of silent treatment but he knew he had to take drastic measures if he was going to get you to agree on a dinner date.

“You better visit the ATM before you pick me up,” You smirk. “I’m a big eater.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Namjoon smiles. “I’m pretty sure my wallet can handle it.”

After all, he has been saving up for three years.

Part 2 // Part 3

She holds back a sigh. Why can’t he just go back to sleep?

She gingerly reaches her hand out, blindly searching for his hands through the haze of sleep that still attaches itself to her to get him to stop disrupting her from her sleep. The brush of his cold when they finally found each other hand causes a small electric jolt on her skin, she draws back for a second before intertwining her fingers with his. Their hands fall back on the mattress, and then he finally stops moving.  

He pushes himself forward, now closer to her, close enough that if he opens his mouth he’ll get a mouthful of her hair. He cranes his neck up, looking down at the side of her face: her lips parted and looking dry, eyes crusted with evidence of a good night sleep. And Jongin smiles to himself, comparing how she looks when she’s freshened up and touched with make-up to the way she is now. His heart and mind always works more frantically at this sight of her like this. He sees the slight flutter of her eyelids, and then he knows that she’s finally awake.

“Good morning.” He whispers, pressing his lips on the shell of her ear, leaving a tender peck on it.

She groans, twisting her body to face him, their hands momentarily break apart, only to reconnect after she found herself a good position, nestled on his chest, and then she tries to keep her eyes open with difficulty.

“God, I forgot how awful your morning breath is.” Jongin pinches her cheeks in an act of offense.

“I am actually trying to be romantic. Do you really have to ruin the moment?”

Wisps of hair hiding under the coolness of her white pillowcase, lower lip jutting out in the form of a heart wrenching childish pout, loose sleeveless shirt showcasing the sharpness of his collarbone, this is the sight of Kim Jongin that eats at her brain every day he is not with her.

She smiles at him, wistful and solaced when her fingers touch the smooth expanse of his cheek. He is real, and he is here with her, how long has she dreamed for this to happen?

She finds herself having a hard time believing that he has any time left for her anymore with each month that flew by without any physical contact or reassurance. Those thoughts shouldn’t live in her brain, but it would be lying if she says she never thinks of him leaving her with every late night phone calls and 5-minutes-maximum video calls that comes and goes. For now, she is happy, but when he leaves again, she’d only have this memory to hang on to for the next few days, weeks, maybe months.

“Stop staring, you’re making it hard for me to be mad at you.”

His voice is a dulcet tone of stillwater if she could describe them in colors. Hearing it makes her feel as if she’s floating on calm water, or looking up at the sky. Everything about it speaks of a gentle, tranquil, zen state of mind.

She giggles, tugging his head free from the pillow so she can see him and his ridiculous bedhead. His hair sticks up like sharp thorns, but when she run her hand through it it is as soft as she remembers it being. Jongin’s pout pulls up into a smile at her touch, tender and careful like the stroke of a paintbrush drawing a masterpiece.

“What do you want to do today?”

He hums, thinking to himself. Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to stay in bed all day, basking in her presence until they fall back asleep in sheets that grows warmer with their body heat. Despite that, he feels restless just laying down, that is the reason why he woke up in the first place.

“Why don’t we start with breakfast? What do you have?”

“Milk and cereal, or cereal and milk.”

Jongin purse his lips, stopping himself from laughing at his lazy girlfriend, lazy enough to not go grocery shopping because she believes she could live off of just cereal and milk.

“Oh, well sorry I don’t have ingredients enough to satisfy the exquisite palette of EXO’s Kai.” [Name] emphasizes on his stage name with a hint of mockery.

Jongin pulls her back down when she starts to get up, landing her back next to him with a small bounce of the mattress and her surprised yelp. He flashes her a grin, his gums peeking beneath his lips in that adorable smile only he can pull off.

“Just kidding,” he nuzzles his nose against hers, something he tends to do only when they’re alone, he would never admit it when she points out to him that this is just one of the many proof of how clingy he is around her, “cereal sounds really nice.”

“Ugh, you’re such a sap. Get off of me.”  

This time she got up successfully, and she is the one to pull Jongin up from his sleeping position, him bumping his head on her chest when he’s fully sat up. She makes no attempt to push him off her and settles for ruffling his hair, taming them down to fall on his forehead while his arms slowly wound themselves around her form.

“I wonder what the world will think when they find out what a baby you are.”

Jongin glimpse up at her, his one eyebrow rising at the underlying threat in her tone.

“That’s not what you said when you have my face in between your quivering thighs, the only thing keeping you from falling — ”

“Shut the ever loving fuck up Kim Jongin. It’s too early for that.”

He only chuckles, amused with how she avoids his eyes even though he can still see the embarrassed hue that dusts her cheeks. His joints gave out a pop when he kicks the air, stretching his limbs in a dramatic fashion that leaves her breathing out through her nose in silent laughter.

It takes quite awhile for the two to reach the kitchen despite the size of her apartment. If not for her overly clingy boyfriend digging his chin on her shoulders while he forces most of his weight on her, she would have been eating at her second bowl of cereal.

By the time they reach the kitchen, Jongin detaches himself from her and settles down comfortably on the cold counter.

“Can you move over? The cereal is in the cupboard behind you.”

He turns his head and drags himself away from the cupboard she meant, however, his hand latches on to the cupboard’s handle to keep it closed while he displays a mischievous smile to her. [Name] scrunches her eyebrows down.

“Jongin?”

Jongin taps his index finger on the cupboard’s wooden door and tilts his head to give her a lazily done smirk. His other hand comes up to tap his cheek, indicating that he wants a kiss, though she knows that he’d sneakily turn his head at the last second before her lips could touch his cheek, landing a kiss on the lips instead.

“It’s gonna cost you.” He sings, pleasantly teasing and half chuckling.

There is a short moment of silence between them, which she uses to stare vexingly at her boyfriend innocently smiling at her, unaffected by her gaze that exposes her silent plea for him to move.

“Come on, just give me a little kiss, and then we’ll be eating breakfast.”

He silently celebrates when she gives in with a puff of her breath, leaning into him. Jongin eagerly meets her halfway, no longer putting up a sneaky front with wanting a kiss on the lips as he leans in facing her. They share a brief kiss, and then [Name] flings open the cupboard door the second Jongin’s hand falters. A loud yelp escape him, and he jumps off the counter immediately, the sudden force of the cupboard opening making him think it is about to hit his head.

Jongin eyes [Name] with a nasty glare, knowing she did it purposely to throw him off the counter. [Name] shrugs innocently, standing on her toes to reach the box of Froot Loops without leaving her eyes off of him. She crosses the kitchen for the fridge, but Jongin can read her movements and he reaches there before her, leaning his back on the fridge in an act of prevention. [Name] sigh, again.

“Nini, can you grab the milk for me?” She hopes the nickname could sway him.

“Maybe.” He sing the first syllable playfully, sadly, not at all swayed by the affectionate nickname.

After two more kisses (one for the milk, and another for the bowls), [Name] pours the Froot Loops on both bowls in equal ratio, enjoying the serenity that finally comes without Jongin trying to pull anything. She hoped too soon, as a call for attention through the clear of his throat stops her from opening the lid to the milk.

“What are you doing?” He is leaning on the small dining table with his elbows when he asks.

Nothing seems to be out of place, she hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary, so the answer to his question is given with her scrunched expression.

“I’m pouring cereal into a bowl?”

“Why would you do that? You should pour the milk first.”

Unbelievable

“What? No, you pour the cereal first so you’d know how much milk you need.”

“No, it won’t taste the same.”

She holds herself back from flinging the carton milk on his pretty face — only because it’s an important factor to his career. The corner of her lips twitches then presses into a thin line against each other, looking incredulous at her boyfriend’s stupid argument.

“They’ll be mixed together in a bowl Jongin, it’ll taste the same either way — ”

“Do you want to know what I’d love to do with you on that counter over there?”

She picks up the bowl, press the trash can on the edge of the table open with her toes, then dumps the cereal from the bowl on to the bin without giving Jongin a chance to blink. Jongin leans back, standing with hands on hips at her action, searching her face for an answer as to ‘what the heck?’

“Plain milk for Jongin it is.” She deadpans.

Jongin can only whine.

Though, she ends up pouring another bowl of cereal after the milk this time for the both of them.

Minutes later, after relentless reassurance of ‘it’s fine, I won’t spill any milk on the couch’ from Jongin, breakfast is enjoyed in the presence of an awful sci-fi movie they’re both too lazy to get up and change the channel for, along with each other’s cold feet brushing against their arms where they lay in the opposite direction from each other. Jongin rests his back on one of the couch’s armrest, [Name] on the other, awarding him with the sight of her fixated expression on her bowl of turning-soggy-cereal.

Jongin wiggles his toes, catching her attention with the annoying movement.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How to get you to find the remote and change the channel.”

His smile is small, mouth filled with a spoonful of Froot Loops, but it grows as a large grin when he swallows the contents in his mouth.

“Just enjoy the movie, I’m not moving anytime soon, and I know you won’t either.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically and bowl of cereal lowered to her lap. Jongin still doesn’t feel like getting up, even though he agrees that whatever this movie is is terrible. [Name] only perks up when the noise from the TV changes and a commercial break comes up.

“At least the commercials they’re playing are nice.” She mutters through a mouthful of milk and cereal.

Jongin nods in silent agreement.

Not even a minute later, Jongin feels something cold and wet on his calf. He pauses momentarily from eating and raise his calf up, startled at the stray Froot Loops leaving drops of milk on his skin. At the first ring of her giggle, Jongin knows that she had flicked the cereal on him purposely.

“How cruel.”

His revenge comes too soon in the form of a soggy Froot Loops to her nose. A hearty laugh racks up his chest at her astonished expression. However, he quickly goes to cover his face with his own bowl for protection when he sees her scowl. [Name] playfully glares at him, and the next Froot Loops that is flung from her spoon lands on his collarbone, slipping down to the inside of his sleeveless shirt. He squeaks, squirming at the coldness of the milk and the stickiness of the cereal traveling down his chest.

“Unfair! You’re wearing a sweater!” The next piece of cereal stains the couch, and that’s when they spoil their breakfast for a round of food war.

[Name] scarcely remember the rest of the day with his stillwater blue voice, thick and sweet like honey in her ear, and his laughter: a violet dusk, a noise she has learned to fall asleep to. And although he has to leave the next morning, [Name] has no qualms, for she holds all the memory of this day close to her senses (how he feels against her skin, how he looks like when he smiles at her, how his skin tastes of sweat), and her heart.