#deoboyznet

The thought of the incident follows him and lingers like the smell of grilled beef clinging to his uniform as he steps into his mother's restaurant. The place fills with the same noise it always does.

Plates clatter around and the sound of sizzling oil acts as a music background.

Eric washes his hands longer than usual. Your cry keeps replaying in his head like some kind of dvd. That sharp and unfamiliar heat in his chest when he heard the way they spoke about you, he remembers it clearly. He frowns slightly at the memory. The burning of anger remains inside him.

Sunwoo is already seated at their usual table. He stretched out his long legs under the table and his fingers were already shiny with grease. A hot, freshly made fried chicken sits between them. The steam rises like a small celebration.

"You were weird today," Sunwoo says casually with a mouth full. "Since when do you get involved in stuff like that?"

Eric shrugs while reaching for a piece of wing. "I wasn't weird."

"You," Sunwoo gestures vaguely with a drumstick. He made an ugly, annoying expression. "seriously defending her, spending time with her, skipping our annual arcade games and what else. You don't usually do that."

Eric bites into the chicken, chews slowly. He searches for a reason that sounds reasonable to say out loud.

"She's just... different," he says finally after a few seconds of silence.

Sunwoo raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Eric leans back in his chair. His gaze drifts toward the kitchen where his mother moves briskly.

"She's unique, smart, and..." He pauses almost amused by his own thoughts, "turns out she's really talkative once you get to know her."

Sunwoo snorts. "I don't believe you. Her? Talkative? Like chalk and cheese."

Eric smiles despite himself. "It's because you just never hear it."

"And then?" Sunwoo presses before reaching for another piece.

Eric thinks about the way your voice changes when you forget to guard it. How your words come out carefully at first, before slowly turns like you're testing the coldness of the water. He thinks about the stories you tell and the thoughts that you never share in class.

"I like listening to her," he says simply. "She's nice. innocent. Like a little kid. Sometimes she makes me wonder why no one ever notices her."

Sunwoo shrugs, unconcerned. "Probably because she doesn't talk much in class. I can't even imagine what her voice sounds like with that pretty face."

Eric nods. That explanation feels sufficient, logical, and clean.

Later, Eric lies awake staring at the ceiling after the restaurant closes, the chairs are stacked upside down and he walks home with his mom.

He tells himself he helped because it was unfair for someone like you. He thought anyone decent would have done the same. He doesn't recognize the gentler truth settling quietly beneath those thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

Eric suddenly comes and asks like it's an ordinary question. As if yesterday didn't happen in his dictionary.

You look up from your desk, startled. His chair is already half-turned toward you with his elbow resting on the back as if this is where he's always sat. You nod too quickly.

"I'm fine."

He doesn't argue. He just watches you silently with his soft eyes. His eyes keep searching for something you're not offering.

He tries again during lunch. He talks more than usual, like telling a story about how Sunwoo always messes up with their group project, exaggerating the worst parts until he even laughs at himself. You listen and don't react much. It's like your mind is elsewhere and not with him. He notices.

Then he reaches across the table and places a few pieces of pork cutlet that he cut onto your food tray without warning.

"Eh," you say, surprised.

"Your tray looks too empty," he replies easily. "No wonder you're petite."

You stare at the cutlet. It's from his plate. His favorite food that is only served once a week. Moreover it is the corner part that's always extra crispy.

"That's yours," you murmur.

He shrugs. "I'm not that hungry."

It's a lie, and both of you know it.

However, you don't give it back. You don't thank him either—but your heart is. You take a small bite, feeling the warmth of it, and let out a sound that might be a laugh, or something close to it.

Eric smiles like he's won something.

Later that day, the last bell rings indicating that school is over. The clouds gather by the time you pack your bag slowly. The air feels heavy and pressed low against your skin when suddenly a shadow falls over your desk.

Something warm settles over your shoulders before you can even look up. You freeze. Your fingers still curl around your book.

Eric doesn't say anything.

He has already stepped away by the time you turn. His hoodie has gone from his own shoulders and is hanging awkwardly on yours. He doesn't look back. He just walks ahead toward the door with his hands in his pockets. He waits for you outside the classroom.

You stare at him for a second too long before standing. The hoodie smells faintly like laundry soap and his cologne. The smell slightly makes your stomach tighten in a way you can't describe. You follow him out.

"Thank you," you say softly.

Eric's lip twitches into a smile. You walk together.

The rain falls suddenly. It soaks both of you in seconds. The cold is biting through the fabric. You stop, startled and unsure which way to go. Water slaps the pavement hard enough to sting. Your hair is clinging to your face due to the strong wind, and your shoes are already ruined.

Eric holds your arm before pulling you towards the edge of a building nearby.

"I didn't bring an umbrella," you say quietly.

"Me neither," Eric replies.

He glances down the street, left and right. Your house is far, but his is close.

"My place is closer," Eric says, already stepping back under the downpour with his bag on top of his head. He notices how you look, hesitating.

"My mom's home. You'll be okay."

You stay silent.

"It's really okay," he says again, softer.

So you follow. Both of you are dripping with shoes stamping down with each step the moment you reach his house. His mother greets you with a familiar warmth that feels undeserved.

"Ommo," she says, startled by both of your conditions, then smiles as if you belong there without explanation. "Go dry off."

"I'll make warm tea." Eric hands you a clean towel. It's warm from the dryer. You wrap it around your shoulders without saying much.

After you dry yourself and change into his mom's old clothes, Eric gestures down a narrow stairwell when the rain shows no sign of slowing.

The underground room is small, with a low ceiling. Foam panels were pinned unevenly to the white walls. There is an expensive keyboard, a guitar, and a few computers sitting in the room. Wires crawling across the floor.

"Whoa─"

"My studio," he says, suddenly shy. "It's not much."

You shake your head. "It's nice."

You really mean it.

The rain drums above you in the distance. You sit on the floor with your knees pulled close to your chest. Eric leans against the wall before tuning his guitar.

"So," he starts. "What do you like?"

You blink. "What?"

"Anything," he says. "Food, movies, or your dream."

You think for a second before telling him small truths. He listens like they matter. Then you ask him the same question.

He doesn't hesitate this time.

"Music. I want to do it seriously," he says with a huge grin on his face.

You can tell how he likes it wholeheartedly.

"I want to sing," he continues. "I want to perform on stage and write songs that make people feel less alone. I want them to feel like I was there by their side."

You don't interrupt because you know what it costs him to say that aloud.

"I don't know if it will work. But I can't imagine myself giving it up too." You nod slowly.

"You should," you say. "I'm supporting you."

Eric laughs. "Then, you are my first fan. You can't take it back."

You just nod with a slight smile tugging on your face. The rain begins to soften outside. You sit there quietly, listening to him strumming a soft tune on the guitar.

Months pass and graduation slowly approaches its time. You begin to notice the slow disappearance of things you learned to rely on. Desks feel lighter, the hallways echo more, and the teachers begin counting down days like they are relieved to be done with all of you. The calendar thinning out day by day.

You and Eric sit in the school garden one afternoon with a textbook and papers spread on the wooden table in front of you, studying for the final exams. The benches are warm from the sun. The air is filled with the sound of insects and distant chatter drifting around the garden.

You trace the same line in your book for the third time while reading, noting the important facts. Eric leans back beside you while stretching his arms upwards. He is already distracted. The sun filters through the leaves above.

"What will you do after this?" He suddenly asks while tapping his pen against the page.

You stop underlining your book and turn your head slightly toward him. You pretend to think for a while.

"I don't know yet."

He hums, thoughtful. His eyes follow a cloud instead of the notes in front of him. Then he grins brightly. "You know that I'm serious about music."

"Yes, you are..." You say, unsure what he will say after it.

"I'll write a song," he adds almost offhand. "About us. Or about you. Something like that."

You smile.

"Really?" You ask even though you know what promises sound like when they're spoken without weight.

"Yeah. I won't forget."

The wind lifts while carrying the sound of laughter from somewhere far away. You imagine the song, the melody, the feeling where your name is not swallowed by noise.

You laugh softly. "I'll hold you to that."

He grins. "You should. I am not someone who talks nonsense."

You nod, though you know how people like Eric move forward without looking back. You keep thinking about how some promises are meant to comfort the speaker, not the listener.

But you don't resent him for it. You carry the promise anyway.

Months later, after the final exam is done and your result is out, graduation day comes wrapped in beautiful black uniforms.

Everyone is busy throwing their caps in the air, laughing, and hugging people they will never call again. The camera flashing here and there. Eric finds you somewhere between it all.

"Hey!"

He calls you in the middle of a crowd.

You, who are standing in the crowd, looking clueless, turn towards the owner of the voice. You recognize his voice. Eric comes running towards you with a huge grin.

"We'll keep in touch, right?" He asks.

You nod. "Sure."

He squeezes your shoulder lightly. "Don't disappear, okay?"

You almost laugh.

After a while, both of you simply stop meeting unlike the sealed promise. There is no last day. No moment where you look at him and know it is the end. There is also no argument to justify the distance.

It feels temporary for the first few days you stop meeting. Schedules change and messages take longer to send before they don't get sent at all. You tell yourself it is normal. This is how growing up works. People are busy chasing their dreams.

But sometimes you think you see him. A familiar posture across the street. A laugh that sounds close enough to his. Each time, it isn't him.

And time quickly moves forward. The garden bench where you used to study gathers fallen leaves, the steps of the concrete bleachers are repainted, and the sidewalk you used to walk home together is faded with time. His mother's restaurant was upgraded, but you don't go back anymore.

You move. You learn how to introduce yourself without waiting for someone else to notice you first. You learn how to enjoy your time alone in cafes without feeling like you are taking up space meant for others.

The goodbye happens to be witnessed by the time. His absence stops hurting all at once, and starts aching instead.

✎ᝰ. to be continued.

Day one turns into every day without either of you naming it.

You begin to notice the way Eric lingers after class, leaning against his desk and pretending to check his phone while his friends call out to him from the doorway.

"Come on," his friend, Sunwoo, says. "We are going to the arcade."

"Later," Eric replies easily before glancing back at you. "I'll catch up."

He doesn't.

He waits instead. He waits for you to close your notebook, sliding it carefully into your bag, and he only stands when you are ready to go. He falls into step behind you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The next day, he sits beside you without asking at lunch. Your tray is modest, while his is fuller. He pushes half of it toward you.

"Can you take some of it? Sunwoo accidentally added more for me," he says with an explanation.

You hesitate. "I'm not really hungry."

He smiles, not teasing or insistent. "You'll like this."

So you do.

No one comments. No one laughs behind their hands. The table feels anchored with him there as if his presence makes you visible enough to be left alone. You find yourself talking more than you intend to.

About class. About how you like the quiet corners of the library. About your cat. He listens between bites, nodding and asking small questions that tell you he remembers.

As the sun leans low and the halls are empty after school, he stops near the gates and turns to you.

"Hey," he says while rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you want to eat somewhere? My mom's restaurant is nearby."

Your first instinct is to refuse. Your second is to find a reason why you shouldn't. You fail at both.

"I feel bad for bothering her," you say.

"You won't," he replies quickly. "She likes company."

You ended up following him.

The restaurant is small and tucked between a convenience store and a tailor's shop. Warm light spills through the paper windows. The air is thick with the scent of simmering broth and fried kimchi pancake. It feels like stepping into a different world.

Eric greets the woman behind the counter. He calls her "Mom," and something in your chest tightens at the sound. Something that you will never experience in your life.

"You can sit comfortably anywhere," he says. "I'll be right back."

You choose a corner table by the window. Later, he brings food without asking what you want and places it in front of you like a quiet offering.

"Why so many?"

He just smiles and gestures for you to eat. "As I said, you'll like it."

You do.

The warmth spread slowly. It fills the spaces you didn't know were hollow. The chair doesn't feel borrowed. The table doesn't feel temporary. No one rushes you. No one expects anything from you.

"I always wonder why you don't talk much in class," Eric says casually while resting his chin on his hand.

You shrug. "There's nothing to say."

"Why? I don't think that's true." He tilts his head. "I always have a story to tell people."

"We are different, Eric."

A pause. His eyes soften. You stare at him before sighing, then at the food. That's when the words slip out of you.

"Everyone is so... loud. Then there is me, standing right there at the edge of the circle. I can feel myself becoming transparent. It's not because I don't want to talk, but because I just stopped trying to find a gap in the conversation that I realized there isn't one meant for me..."

Eric listens without saying anything.

You look at him before continuing, "...I could walk out the door in the middle of a sentence, and the air wouldn't even shift."

You continue to talk about how easy it is to disappear, how sometimes you wish someone would notice before you vanish completely. Then, you stop mid-sentence, startled by yourself.

"Sorry," you say quickly. "I don't know why I'm saying all of this."

Eric doesn't laugh. He doesn't interrupt. He doesn't tell you to stop.

"That's okay," he says. "We are humans with a heart. Of course your feelings are valid. You can say whatever you want to me and I would still listen."

To me. The word settles into you like a promise he doesn't realize he's making.

The sky has darkened by the time you leave. The streetlights dim softly. He walks you home again with his hands in his pockets.

Day passes, then weeks. You start to open up with small things that feel harmless to share.

You tell him about the test you almost failed just because your hands wouldn't stop shaking, about the book you borrowed from the library even though you weren't sure you would like it yet, and about the way you almost chose the same seat in class because it feels safer to look at the view outside of the window.

Eric listens to all of it—without the impatience that people often hide behind politeness and without glances at his phone or interruptions dressed as jokes.

"That sounds stressful," he says when you finish a story about a new library's system.

You blink. "It was."

He nods as if confirming something important. "Makes sense that you don't know how to use it since they don't provide clear instructions."

You are taken aback by the words. It's not because they are deep, but rather because he doesn't try to fix you. He doesn't shrink your feelings into something manageable. He simply allows them to exist.

So you keep talking.

The two of them sit on the very edge of the concrete bleachers. The distant roar of the midday crowd sounded like a different world.

"Lunch is the hardest part," you say softly.

"Why?" Eric wonders.

What's so hard about it? You just have to eat, don't you?

He waits for you to continue. He doesn't look away.

"The silence is heavy. It feels like a physical weight on my chest, especially when the room is full of people laughing. I always spend the whole morning on the way to school rehearsing what I might say if someone finally looked at me. I've got the whole script ready to go in my head."

You let out a dry, shaky breath. "But then the bell rings, and I haven't said a single word. I just silently walk to the class, and the script stays locked inside."

You brace yourself. You expect him to tell you that you are being dramatic or to offer a list of "tips" on how to be more outgoing, just like him.

Instead, Eric looks out at the field full of students. A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I do that too, sometimes," he says.

The weight on your chest doesn't disappear, but it feels like someone else is helping you carry it.

"You think you're a ghost," he adds gently, "but I see you. You're not invisible to me."

That's when you realize you are no longer invisible—at least to one person. He has seen you.

Without knowing, he has chosen to plant something that grows quietly, stubbornly, in the spaces no one else dares to touch.

After school, the rhythmic sound of the footsteps on the pavement seems to give you a beat to follow. The air is cooling down on the way home.

"When I was little, I couldn't just put a book away. I had to make sure the spines were perfectly flush and touching each other. No gaps in between."

You look at him sideways, but he keeps his eyes on the horizon. His hands shove deep into his pockets.

"I was worried the book on the end would feel isolated if I left a space. I always had to whisper that they were part of a set before I turned out the light so they wouldn't feel lonely in the dark," you laugh lightly.

"It sounds so stupid now that I think back."

He kicks a loose pebble and watches it skitter down the sidewalk. "It's not stupid. It's like you were trying to fix the world on a smaller scale because the big one felt too hard to handle."

You nod. A small surge of courage hitting your chest. "I think I've been living entirely inside my own head for years. I thought I had sound... well, crazy if I said these things out loud."

"You don't," he says simply. He doesn't turn to look at you; instead, he shifts his path slightly closer to you. "You just sound like someone who has been carrying a lot of heavy thoughts with nowhere to put them down."

You let out a breath that you have been holding since the first grade. "I think I'm tired of carrying them."

"Then don't," he replies. They stop walking. "You can leave them here on the sidewalk, and I'll walk with you for the rest of the way without them."

Eric begins to notice patterns after a while. They are small at first. A laugh that cuts off when you enter the class, a seat pulled away just as you near it, names spoken under breath before followed by glances that pretend they weren't meant for you.

He remembers the things you have told him. The way you always soften the truth when you speak. He thought maybe you were just being careful.

Now he starts to realize you were being generous.

It happens on a day that's already too long for you. A group work for three people is announced, and the room breaks apart into noise and movement. Eric stands and waits for you without thinking.

That's when he hears something.

"Do we really have to work with her?"

A not so loud voice lingers around his eardrums before another laugh follows.

"She won't say anything anyway. And she can do everything. Our work will be easy."

You stay seated as you always do. Your hands are folded too tightly in your lap until your knuckles turn pale. Your eyes are fixed on the desk as if disappearing is a skill you have practiced.

Eric feels something shift in his chest.

"Hey," he says, sharper than his usual personality. The room quiets just a little then. "What are you laughing at? I heard nothing funny in your words."

Heads turn. Someone scoffs.

"Chill bro," the boy replies. "It's just a joke."

"who said?" Eric asks. His voice doesn't rise, but it doesn't soften either. "You have been doing this for weeks. And honestly it's such a lame joke."

Sunwoo standing beside him, looking confused.

Eric gestures toward you. "You don't see it? You realize she could hear every single word you said, don't you? So, why would you talk like she's not even here?"

There's an uncomfortable pause. The one people would fill with laughter when they don't want to think.

"She never said anything," someone mutters.

Eric shakes his head. "And that doesn't mean it's okay."

Sunwoo exhales slowly while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah," he says, hesitant but sincere. "That's... kind of messed up."

The silence spreads. No one argues. No one apologizes either. They just look down, suddenly interested in their phones, their homework, and the floor. Class resumes, but the environment never feels the same anymore. You feel guilty wrapping around you.

And Eric doesn't wait when the bell rings. He grabs your wrist gently and firmly, leaving Sunwoo stunned at his place.

"Come with me."

You don't resist. You barely feel your feet moving as he pulls you up the stairs, past empty hallways and all the way to the rooftop. The door slams shut behind you. The sound echoing louder than it should.

Eric turns away from you, pacing. His hands curl into fists.

"Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?" he snaps, more in the air than at you. "They don't get to talk about you like that. They don't know you."

You stand there silently. Your chest tightens. The tears drop before you can stop them. Quiet. Uncontrolled. They fall without a sound, like they have been waiting for permission.

Eric stops pacing.

He turns.

And freezes.

"Oh," he says softly. All the anger drained from his face. "Hey, I─"

He steps closer, unsure like someone is approaching something fragile for the first time.

"I didn't mean to yell," he says. "I just... that wasn't okay."

You shake your head while pressing your sleeve to your mouth. "It's fine," you whisper though your body betrays you completely.

"No," he says immediately.

He crouches slightly so he's closer to your eye level, but not too close to make you uncomfortable.

"Listen to me," he says. "You didn't do anything wrong. They probably act like that because they are jealous you are smarter than them. You hear that?"

You nod even though the words barely reach you.

"They're loud because they are empty somewhere else," he continues. "And cruel because it's easier than being kind. That doesn't mean they're right."

His voice is steady now.

"You don't deserve that. You never did."

You cry harder. Your shoulders are shaking and your breath uneven. He stays, and never touches or rushes you.

"I've got you," he says quietly. "You are not alone."

The words arrive at the exact moment you are closest to falling apart. Eric doesn't know that timing is everything.

He doesn't know those words will replay themselves years later, even after the rooftop is empty and he has moved on. He doesn't see the way something settles inside you. Heavy. Permanent.

And the seed grows to deeper roots that day, nourished by the one voice that showed up when everything else went silent.

✎ᝰ. to be continued.

You sit at the edge of the classroom. The light from the windows thins, and the walls feel closer than the people. Your desk is always the same one. It was pushed slightly apart from the others as if it arrived late and never quite caught up.

No one questions it. No one notices.

The room fills with noise long before the lesson begins. Chairs scrape. Bags are clinging to the side of the tables. Laughter blooms in clusters before it dissolves into whispers meant to be shared. Some names are called loudly, and some plans are made. You learn to keep your eyes down. Your hands are folded together. Your presence is small enough to be ignored.

"Alright kids, today we're going to do a group assignment."

The teacher announces. And the ritual begins. "Choose your partners."

Chairs move. Your classmates stand to find their partners. Someone groans dramatically when they are not chosen by, and someone else laughs behind a hand. You wait as always. But by the time the room settles, there is only one space left. You slowly raise your hand to tell the teacher, and she assigns you to it without looking up.

"You'll work alone for now," she says before turning back to the board.

'for now' stretches into always.

You are never a priority. Sometimes you hear your name being mispronounced floating through the room. You never bother to correct as it would happen again tomorrow and the day after. Sometimes you don't hear it at all. The teacher pauses while scanning the attendance sheet, then moves on as if your absence would not change the count.

Then the bell rings as lunch hour approaches. Everyone runs towards the canteen, but you move at your own pace. Slowly and steadily, even though some pupils would bump into your shoulders without an apology.

You sit where there is room. At the end of the tables, near windows, where it feels temporary. You eat quickly, quietly, and carefully so as not to take up more space than necessary. Laughter rises and falls around you. Some show a video to their friends, and some share a message from a group chat you were never invited into. You pretend not to notice.

The worst part is not the cruelty. It is the effortlessness of it.

No one pushes you. No one says your name with venom. They just forget to include you, and the forgetting hurts more than intention ever could.

The classroom feels heavier by the afternoon. The air presses down. You focus on the scratch of a pencil against paper, the hum of the lights, and the steady rhythm of your own breathing. You tell yourself that this is survivable, that silence is safer than being seen.

You learn Eric's name before you ever speak to him.

His name drifts through the classroom easily, always carried by laughter, always gets called out across desks, always written in the margins of notebooks that do not belong to you. Teachers always say it without checking their lists. Classmates say it with familiarity, shortening and stretching it from across the room, as if they are sure it will be answered.

Eric laughs often, but not too loudly. His laugh always invited others in. He moves through the hallways as if they were made for him. He is always stopping to talk, leaning against lockers, exchanging jokes that seem to pass through him and land elsewhere.

He is not the center of attention, but something more better and welcoming.

You always watch from a distance. Not because you want to be close, but because he is difficult not to be noticed by. Eric listens when others speak. He knows how to remember names. You wonder if someone like him could ever notice someone like you.

Then, he always says thank you to the canteen staff when others rarely do. These are small things, but you have learned that small things matter.

Your eyes would meet by accident sometimes. He smiles briefly and politely when they do. You look away quickly as you feel your heart beating too fast for a reason you don't understand. You are just another classmate to him. But to you, he is proof that some people move through the world without bruises.

The desk beside you remains empty.

Until one day, footsteps stop there. You sense it before you see it. You look up, expecting a teacher, but there is none.

Instead, it's him.

Eric stands beside the empty desk with his backpack slung over one shoulder. His expression is open and unreadable. He glances at the chair, then at you as if the space itself has finally registered.

"Hey," he says carefully. "Is anyone sitting here?"

You hesitate, surprise tightening your heart. No one has ever asked before. You are unsure if this is a mistake waiting to correct itself.

"No," you say.

He smiles before pulling the chair out.

"Cool."

For the first time in a long while, the silence beside you feels alive again. The desk is no longer empty. The classroom noise resumes around you, unchanged, but the space between your shoulders feels different now. It's smaller and warmer.

Eric leans back while glancing at the board. "It's quieter here. Easier to focus and think," he says.

You nod though your thoughts have scattered completely.

Neither of you speaks for a while. Eric taps his pen lightly against his textbook. You stare at the edge of your desk. The closeness is unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. It's just... new to you.

He turns to you again when the bell rings.

"See you," the words slip casually like they have known each other for so long.

And then he's gone, swallowed back into the crowd that knows him well. You sit there for a moment longer, aware of the strange, fragile warmth he's left behind while listening to the echo of his voice.

You take your time to fold your notebook carefully before slipping it into your bag as if the order of things might keep you steady. Most of the noise has already moved on by the time you step into the hallway.

The afternoon has softened outside. The sky leans toward evening, and the wind carries the promise of cool air. You start walking.

At first, you don't notice him—or maybe you do, but your mind is too tired to name it. A rhythm of footsteps that isn't yours sounds clearer. It's not close enough to be intrusive but not far enough to disappear.

You walk faster. The footsteps remain.

Your shoulders tense. You tell yourself it's nothing. People walk the same way all the time anyways. And the world does not revolve around your quiet fears.

The feeling lingers. You stop midway and turn back.

There he is.

Eric stands a few steps behind you with his hands in his pockets. His brows slightly furrowed like he has been caught thinking too loudly.

"Why are you following me?" you ask. Your voice comes out softer than you expect.

He blinks, surprised. "Following?"

"Yes, you are," you say.

"Why would I follow you?" He pauses, then frowns a little like he is trying to decide whether his next explanation will make sense.

"I am on my own way. There, my house." He says while pointing to the terraced house at the end of the road. The answer is simple, almost careless.

"Oh," you say.

You don't argue. Instead, you turn back around and continue walking. Your pace is slower to match with him. The air feels cooler against your skin. The sidewalks are streaked with long shadows, stretched and folding over each other like they are trying to touch.

He doesn't walk beside you. Not yet.

He just stays behind while matching your pace without comment. You can feel him there. His presence doesn't press, doesn't demand. He just exists. It makes your chest loosen instead of tightening for some reason.

He speaks after a while.

"You are really good at math," he says suddenly.

You blink. "I am?"

"Yeah," he says. "You always finish early. I noticed."

The word lands unexpectedly. Noticed.

"Oh," you murmur. "I just... study a lot."

"That's cool!" He replies. "Most people don't, you know."

You don't know how to answer that. The silence returns, but it feels much lighter than before. A breeze moves through the trees and scatters the leaves against the pavement. Eric walks with his hands in his pockets. He is unhurried. And you notice how he's slowed down for you.

"Do you like walking?" he asks carefully.

"I don't mind," you say after shrugging your shoulders. "It's peaceful."

He nods slowly. "Agreed. It's calming with the sounds of birds chirping on the way back home." You glance at him, surprised by how easily he says it.

You always thought he preferred being loud rather than quiet. It makes you wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

After a long walk, they finally reach the corner where your street begins. You stop automatically, already preparing the goodbye in your head.

"This is my way home," you say.

"Oh, alright." He smiles again. "See you tomorrow, then."

Tomorrow. The word settles somewhere warm in your chest.

"Yeah," you say. "See you."

He waits until you turn the corner before heading off. The quiet feels different today as you walk the rest of the way home alone.

✎ᝰ. to be continued.

ofc i couldnt' leave sunwoo out of this mix!!

There’s always a fluttering feeling when shopping with Kim Sunwoo; even though this is the first time you're shopping with him. You and Sunwoo aren’t friends, and you're not dating either. Dancing in the middle of the line becomes really exhilarating over time. After he leaves kisses all over your skin and your pretty sounds trapped in the four walls securely, Sunwoo coaxes you for more, and takes care of you to a whole other level. 

For sure, the aftercare would be on par with the side of him that only you properly knew. He would caress your skin with gentle swipes on the places that he had before with a different force. His lips would occasionally replace his fingertips, lulling you into deep rest for the rest of the night. Sunwoo’s frame would be stuck onto you for the rest of the night, the crook of your neck tickled with his exhales and snores.

The next day, Sunwoo wouldn’t leave your side just yet. He would also take you out the day after, or if busy, as soon as he could. Usually, it's just to grab a drink or have brunch. But this time, it's non-negotiable from the way he treated your favourite top last night. The poor boy pouts that the crease between your eyebrows has never truly faded since last night. He tries to reason with you, saying that he would buy multiple different ones to convey how apologetic his drive was last night, but he knew it was all in vain. Even though the person who gave your favourite top was no one but Sunwoo himself, you had a special attachment to it as the memories crept up and made your cheeks heat.

“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo repeats once again. His arms secure your figure to him, pushing your back to his chest. Light kisses land on the side of your head, and you playfully roll your eyes at the overused phrase in the last twenty-four hours. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

You could tell that the pout is still plastered on his lips, but you had no intention of letting it leave. You’re no longer mad at him; in fact, you were never really mad. Yes, you were upset because the top was so pretty and fit any occasion, but you knew that he didn’t do it on purpose, and last night was divine in more ways than one. You continue to ignore his presence, only crossing your arms across your chest as you keep focus on the changing numbers on the top of the elevator. 

When you’re faced with the correct floor, you step out with Sunwoo stumbling behind you. He still follows closely behind you, complimenting your choices for most, whilst twisting a dissatisfied look for others. There were occasions when you would slip a few chuckles at his comments, and Sunwoo swept your figure to his arms, pulling you into a kiss.

“Took you a while,” you mumble against his lips.

An amused eyebrow rises from the boy. “If you wanted me to kiss you a long time ago, you could’ve just not acted like a brat.”

Oh, he did not just say that in public. Sunwoo knows the effect that the nickname had on you, and the bustling environment only made adrenaline rush through your veins even more. If it wasn’t for his sturdy grip, you would’ve probably been kneeling on the floor, hands all over his lower body.

As a retaliation, your palm hits his chest, and you escape from his warmth to aimlessly walk around the rest of the clothing racks. You’re so flustered by the looming presence behind you that you started to take random clothes that you knew you would never buy. Unfortunately, Sunwoo’s effect on you is so obvious that he couldn’t help but push your buttons even more; literally. 

It’s only when you stop at a wall away from the majority of the crowd that Sunwoo becomes more daring. Your attempt to draw a breath stops halfway when his palm follows the lines from behind your waist to the front. His index finger follows his thumb under his clothes, which you only realise you had on. The bottom button that secures your skin from the public is no more, followed by the button on top of it. The need to suppress a moan fills your mind, but you couldn’t help but at least groan and instinctively step backwards towards him. Your hips push against his own, and you wrap your hand around his wrist that continues their ministrations up your chest.

“Stay still,” he rasps beside your ear. A finger hooks itself under the underband of your bra, and you gasp at his attempt to let your chest free in the open space. “Should I do it?”

You’re left breathless, tilting your head down low and seeing Sunwoo’s palm against your increasingly heating skin. You left his question hanging, because in this dynamic between you and him, he has full control within the boundaries that you consented to. He stays still, taking in your beauty below him. A nose nudges against the side of your neck, and it doesn’t take you long to realise the passionate pressure along with occasional swipes to soothe your skin.

You thought you reached your limit some time ago, but you knew you finally reached it when he turned you around and claimed your lips properly. His hand extends to grab a random top. As if he had it all planned out, with all the restraints he has left, he pulls you into the closest fitting room, where, by luck, had no workers supervising. The stall made for one became too small with both of you inside, but it didn’t stop how his shirt hit the floor and the way his skin glistened with the orange light of the room. 

“I took this in the moment, but I think it would fit you well.” Sunwoo hovers the new top in front of your body, smirking and licking his bottom lip at the sight. The rest of the fabric covering your body is ripped, and he dresses you in the still tagged fabric.

He makes himself comfortable on the stool in the corner of the room before pulling you to straddle his lap. “Sunwoo, you’re going to rip this one too, with the way you’re being right now.”

“Hm, I’ll just buy it then,” he hums uninterestingly, trying to contain his entire body from not rushing anything with you. “And I guess I’ll just have to buy a new one for you to change and me to rip then.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist 🤍 ateez song mingi ver. 🤍 nct na jaemin ver.

A night out swaying seductively from bar to bar is what you needed after a long week.

After one, two, and three drinks you stopped counting, possessed by the lightweight bliss of not giving a fuck about anything once alcohol found its way into your system.

Inhibitions were lost. You moved freely through the night with your gal pals, destined to complete the mission of having a night so good that it would be reminisced and recounted so often that it’s sickening.

The night consisted of laughs so obnoxious that drinks were being accidentally spat from the uncontrollable laughter, rounds of drinks that came free from sleazy dudes thanks to you guys’ skimpy outfits and flirtatious mannerisms, and befriending random strangers in the girls’ bathroom that you’d probably never ever see again.

Oh, how you loved girlhood.

The fun eventually had to come to an end— for you, at least. You knew your limits, and once the clock struck past midnight, you knew despite how hyped and high-spirited the environment was, the bed was calling for you to check in.

Your friends weren’t ready to let the party rest, though. Some were too caught up in playing their cards right in hopes to get some action, and others didn’t plan on leaving the bar until they physically couldn’t remain due to closing, even clinking and downing shots together with the friendly bartenders.

It’s a pity to leave, but maybe it’s best to not stick around to avoid having to be the one to hold someone’s hair back while they retched and puked once their bodies maxed out, and miss getting hit on by the same weirdo who has been trying to get in your pants for ages now.

Since not a single other person within your circle was ready to leave just yet, you ditched them yourself. Of course you told at least one of your good friends that you’d be heading out, reassuring them that you were more than capable of getting to your home that was thankfully within walking distance.

Sure it was probably reckless to walk the streets in the dark while under the influence, looking the way that you do, street lights being your only companion. But you were a big girl, strong minded despite the amount of drinks you’ve consumed and smart enough to have your location on.

Once you left the dim, sweltering and bustling bar, you breathed in deeply the breeze of fresh air. It felt so nice to finally leave that stuffy joint.

Your phone in hand, purse hanging on your shoulder, and a cherry sucker that ended up in your hands somehow, is all that’s following with you on your journey home.

You felt like an empowered female lead in a movie, navigating the sidewalks with a strong aura given your dolled-up appearance, looking so sexy and confident, only focused on getting your buzzed-self home.

Even with somewhat hazy vision and the occasional uneven, unsteady movement of your limbs, you definitely were still very present and aware of your surroundings. You popped the cherry-flavored lollipop in your mouth, sucking on the candy in hopes to reduce your inebriation as you walked.

But unfortunately, your body still was showing signs of delay and loss of coordination from the drinking no matter how conscious and poised you believed you were.

Before you even realize, your legs give out unexpectedly and have your knees landing on the concrete, your joints eating shit with the sidewalk.

“Fuck,” you cursed, tittering at the embarrassing moment you’ve landed yourself in.

Luckily you didn’t feel any pain from the fall/impact because of your level of drunkenness, and you believe nobody saw you plummet.

And that belief was short lived.

“Miss? Are you alright?”

A male voice rings in your ears. Appearing magically, a uniformed officer steps close to you until he’s extending an arm out, gesturing to help you rise from your fall.

Initially indifferent and weary once you noted that he was a cop, your mind was changed once he helped you up and you were at level with his face.

He was incredibly handsome. The poor street lights and shops with at least one dim letter in the name from a busted light were the only source of light illuminating you two. But his visual was still as clear and bright as day, features so angular, chiseled, and sharp, immediately capturing your attention.

“Yeah! I’m good, just uh, too clumsy.” you chuckled through a smile, removing the candy from your mouth to speak properly.

He flashes a smile back to you, taking note of the outfit you wore. The heels, short dress, and cleavage on proud display tells him that you’re coming from clubbing or bar hopping. What surprised him is what is a gorgeous girl like yourself doing out here by your lonesome self?

“You know it’s dangerous for a lady like yourself to be out late alone. Where you coming from?” he nods, arms crossed.

You pick up on the slight playfulness of his tone, still smiling as he spoke. He seemed a little young to be a cop, around your age.

“I had some drinks with my friends. I was just heading home.” you tell him, hoping that he doesn’t write you up for something, still on your toes when talking to this authoritative figure despite how you’re thinking that he must be the man of your dreams.

“And your friends let you walk alone? At this hour?” It doesn’t make sense to him how they’d let you go home by yourself, knowing that you should always remain in a pack— or you’d at least have a partner take you home.

“It’s okay! I live pretty close by so it’s no trouble.” You’ve walked alone plenty of times, whether high, drunk, or sober, and made it to your destination just fine. So, you really think there isn’t any cause for concern.

That still didn’t sit right with him. The cases he’s seen and heard that happened to women alone, when they least expected it, is terrible and disturbing. There was no way in hell he’d allow for you to walk home.

“Well… I hate to pry but as an officer, you’ve clearly had a decent amount to drink. And I don’t think in any situation it’s safe for you to walk by yourself right now.” he frowns, tone serious.

You just stare at him dumbly, like you’re a child being scolded. Ending your group’s night because you were ready to go home even if they weren’t didn’t feel right. And you were too much of a cheapskate to get an uber, not to mention you’d have to ride solo in the vehicle.

There was no other option, you thought.

“I could give you a ride home.”

The offer is thrown in front of you, leaving you speechless for a bit as he didn’t hesitate. This handsome cop was offering you a lift?

“Are you sure? Aren’t you like, on the clock?” you replied, not wanting to be a burden. Also, you really don’t know if you’ll be able to handle sitting in vehicle next to Mr. Hunk over here.

He titters, arms still crossed, eyes sparkling with amusement from your words.

“Hon, this is my job.”

The sudden pet name catches you off guard, heat creeping up and spreading from your neck up into your ears and across your cheeks.

You can’t tell if he’s teasing you or just being polite, but it has you smiling regardless, geeking over this interaction.

“Okay… Officer Sohn.” your pupils dart to the name tag worn on his chest, giving it a read.

Coming from your sweet voice, it makes him more cocky and excited than he’d like to admit. Yeah, it was technically how he’s addressed on the regular, but the title coming from your pretty lips, looking the way you do is… enticing.

“You can call me Eric. No need to be formal.” he tries his best to remain composed, trying to remain polite and hopefully isn’t coming across as too eager given his duty.

“And yours?” he adds.

“Hm? Oh, my name— Y/n.”

The corners of his lips turn upwards at that, testing out the name with his inner voice. Sounds lovely to his ears.

“Well Y/n, let’s get you home safe.”

Following the introductions, he extends out one of his arms, gesturing for you to grab onto it.

That leads your expression to appear puzzled, hesitant to reach out.

“Better hold onto me so you don’t fall, yeah?” he smirks, insisting and not looking like he’ll take ‘no’ for an answer.

Although unsure, you can’t possibly deny the request of a cop— especially a hot one. You end up linking arms, clutching onto his bicep, blushing like a bitch when you can feel how ripped he is through his uniform.

You awkwardly hold onto his large muscle during the short walk to his car, popping back the lolly into your mouth to keep you occupied and grounded from the close proximity with him.

It’s crazy, really. Perhaps pretty privilege led you to be escorted and taken care of, or maybe men are just too easy, even if they’re respected officials. Or… maybe he was just a decent human being doing his job.

Either freaking-way, you couldn’t wait to tell your friends the shit you got into tonight.

Once you two arrived at his vehicle, he led you to the passenger side, opening the door for you like a gentleman and helping you slide on in. The kind gesture has your heart beating like crazy, skipping from the princess treatment and from being in a police car for the first time— thankfully, not for the wrong reasons.

With the giddiness and anxious-thrill inside you, you find yourself fiddling around and fidgeting. While Eric went around to get to his side and all situated, your hands got busy mindlessly with smoothing over your dress and fingers twirling with the ends of your hair.

You even begin to feel a little self conscious and too aware of the low-cut, revealing dress that accentuates your body, eyes scanning yourself to ensure your boobs hadn’t fallen out or your dress wasn’t hiked up too much.

Your eyes pause and inspect closely when they land on one of your knees, noticing a mild abrasion, smudged red with a dot of blood that threatened to trail down. Luckily it wasn’t large or bleeding like crazy, but your knee was still scraped nonetheless.

“Oh, shit, I’m bleeding.” you uttered aloud, not panicking as it was minor, but still confused as to how you just now realized.

Ignoring starting the car, Eric whips his head towards you, vision falling down to where your eyes peered.

Despite your small giggles, not caring about the small injury, Eric grimaces. It should’ve been no surprise considering you came in contact with the ground pretty hard.

“I have a first-aid kit; I gotchu.” he says, face serious as he reaches over to your side, mumbling an ‘excuse me’ as he pulls the glove compartment open, taking out said-kit.

You’re observant in his movements as he pulls out some sort of antibiotic ointment and other essentials, kindly telling you to angle your knee towards him.

You comply, but since it’s your right knee, out of reach to treat properly, he still can’t get to it in the correct manner under these circumstances.

“Uh, do you mind extending your leg out? It’s kinda hard like this.” he gives you a sheepish smile, pressing his lips together after asking the question.

Given your level of tipsiness and how keen he is on helping you out, you shift in your seat and face your entire body towards him to lift your leg upwards with no reluctance, crossing it over.

Although awkward given the setting and having known him for maybe less than twenty minutes, there’s no issue. If anything, you’re flattered by the treatment you’ve received thus far. He must really take his job seriously.

The weight of your leg rested on his lap, settled nicely. Now accessible, he uses a q-tip that was dotted with a generous amount of ointment and spreads the cream on your scrape with a light hand, cleaning the skin so there isn’t risk for infection.

His touch was so gentle, feeling so faint and not even stinging— thanks to the alcohol in your system numbing you from feeling any pain. Though, you’d probably be feeling the impact you faced with the ground once that hangover kicks in.

Absentmindedly, he gives your bare leg some light strokes with the pad of his thumb of his free hand. It’s beyond sweet and soothing; You don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. But you’re so aware of everything that’s happening, eyes trained on the way he cleans you up, and even taking a few sneaky glances up to his focused features.

The interior car light shines just enough for the purpose of aiding you well, but you use it for your own purpose of ogling at him some more.

With the lollipop still stirring in your mouth, your mind and eyes lust over the officer tending to you. Those orbs of yours watch how delicate his hands are when swabbing and dabbing your knee, heart beating in fondness for your prince charming of the night that came one in a million.

Despite the coldness and ruggedness his uniform exuded, his protective and nurturing behavior outshined that. You thought it was hot, seeing how he hasn’t hesitated so far with wanting to help you, being so soft with you knowing that these very hands knew how to use a gun and handcuffed criminals.

Saliva collected in your mouth while viewing him patch you up. Sure it was definitely from the sugary candy that you’ve been consistently sucking on, but the sugar wasn’t the only thing giving you a rush.

Somehow someway, you needed to have a taste of this man in front of you.

“There.” he says after sticking and patting a bandaid over the scratched skin, cueing you to take the weight off him and situate yourself back to normal.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that.” you smiled, charmed as your fingertips trace the plaster.

He chuckles, offering you a million dollar toothy-smile, emerging butterflies in your stomach to flutter in glee, swearing something else is fluttering where it’s not supposed to in between your legs.

“It’s no problem, sweetheart. All better now, see?” he signals with his chin to your knee, making you practically melt in your seat at the usage of yet another pet name.

As he started the car and asked for directions to your place, in the back of your mind resided sinful ideas and thoughts of how you were dying to let him take care of you in other ways.

Oh how easier it would be if people could read each other’s minds. Because if were possible, you’d come to discover that he was also battling in taming his own impure thoughts regarding you.

Small talk was being attempted at during the short drive, but truthfully, Eric was finding difficulty in listening to a single thing you said.

In between talking, you’d look off out the window, into the night and street lights. He wondered what thoughts brewed in your mind. Maybe you were just soaking up the experience of riding in a vehicle that made most people duck and shoot up middle fingers upon sight.

And yeah, you were soaking up the thrill of cruising in a car that you’d never thought you’d be parked in, but your mind was mainly stuck on delusions of getting banged hard by the fine-as-fuck officer who you believed was just showing you courtesy in regards to how you ended up here.

That officer was currently finding it difficult to maintain his composure, as it seemed like every little thing you were doing just made you even more tempting.

It was charming every time you’d toss some hair that swooped over and threatened to hide your face, tucking strands behind your ear probably more than necessary.

It was charming when you’d turn over to him when he spoke, nodding your head and humming along as he made conversation. Your eyes gleamed, wide-eyed with interest and no signs of weariness considering the late night fun you’ve had. Even in the darkness your face glowed, passing dull-lit street lights and the ocasional stop lights that gave you extra shine and clarity, making his heart almost burst into the dashboard.

It was charming the way your eyes were incapable of just staying on him as you spoke, roaming from side to side as if you’re trying to search for the proper words to finish your sentences, chuckling in between as you’d stutter or go blank while thinking.

Now, it wasn’t charming when your mouth was still busy with the lollipop you’ve had since he first saw you. No. It was agonizing seeing and listening to you suck on that shit greedily.

That damn candy swirled around your tongue, red plump lips wrapped around the sucker to soak out the fruity, sugared taste until you were left with nothing but the stick.

What killed him especially is when a smacking sound would leave your lips as you popped the lolly from your mouth.

Boy, was that enough for his mind to go to the gutter.

The attention and suction your mouth had on the candy was a test to his control and patience. While his hands remained firmly on the wheel and he responded to you like a normal person, the subtle but audible sounds of your lolly getting stroked by your mouth and occasionally click against your teeth, and his peripheral view of your being merely existing was already enough for it to get to his head— oh, and the other one between his legs.

After all, he was a man. A man with perverted thoughts, trying his best to focus on what you were saying and the roads he drives on, shifting uncomfortably as he feels his cock has gotten awfully strained.

He mentally thanks God when he arrives at your destination, for he didn’t think he could go another minute without pulling over and and have you lick on something else. That’d be absolutely ridiculous though. He couldn’t possibly do that.

It’s a shame once he parks the car though, that he realizes this might be the last he’ll be seeing of you ever. Jumping some sort of flirtatious move on you or even asking for your number seemed too out of line. There’s a particular front he has to uphold that doesn’t allow room for fucking and flirting around on-duty.

Oh, well. Guess he’d just have to settle for jerking off later to his imagination and some mediocre porn.

“Thank you so much for taking me home. I appreciate it so much.” you smile at him kindly, a hand clutched on the strap of your purse and the lollipop now just left as a saliva-soaked stick.

“Like I said, it’s no problem. Happy to be of service.” a closed-lip smile is sent in your direction, making your own only grow bigger.

This is the part where you should bid him goodbye and part ways now that he’s done what he’s supposed to do, but something inside is gnawing at you to prolong the conversation and time together.

“I probably shouldn’t say this…” you began, laughing at what you were wanting to say, pausing in hesitation, “Usually I don’t fuck with cops, but you’re really sweet. Seriously, thank you for going out of your way to make sure I got home safe.”

He titters and shakes his head at himself, believing for a second that you were heading towards a different route with your words. Shame on him.

I ‘preciate it. No girl should be out alone.”

“Some other cop probably would’ve arrested me for being drunk on the street or something.” you scoffed at the thought, and so did he in turn.

“A lot of them are shitty, i’m not gonna lie. I get it, y’know?”

Of course he was well aware of the barbaric behavior some cops had, abusing their position of power and committing inhumane actions. He watches the news and works in the environment filled with people who shouldn’t have even gotten the job. It shouldn’t be rocket science to act like a decent person, free of biases and not use excessive force when unethical.

“Yeah, but you’re alright, Officer Sohn.” you tell him, head tipped slightly over, your eyes and tone coated in flirtation.

Your approval has him smirking, especially when you referred to him as ‘officer’ again. That and the way your orbs remained fixed on him, kittenish look that appears to be seductive, especially with your body leaning towards his seat has him straining to contain himself.

“Good to know, sweetheart.” it’s only instinct for him to hit you hard and soft, rolling that pet name once more off his tongue.

You do your best to suppress a laugh, tickled by his evident effort of matching your energy.

You can’t tell if he speaks like this to all the girls, or if he’s just being friendly. But judging by the way he looks like he’s holding himself back like a starved animal, wetting his lips with his tongue and eyes gleaming with perversity, it’s giving you confidence and courage to act on your horny thoughts.

Tension hangs heavy, filing the car and practically suffocating the both of you. There’s no desire in you to leave his vehicle, and he doesn’t want you to go just yet based off the yearning look in his eyes.

“Can I do any favor for you? Or repay you somehow? I know it’s your job, but I feel like I owe you one.” there’s a certain pitch and tone in your voice. It wasn’t exaggerated per se, but it came out sultry with a dash of something whiny.

You needed him to know what you were about. And what you needed simply put, is to get fucked by him.

In Eric’s mind, you were starting to come across more inviting with your body language and with the way you spoke. It was up to him on whether or not he responds to your teasing. He really shouldn’t, but with the way your breasts were tightly squeezed by your dress and emphasized by your arms pushing then together subconsciously, head still leaned back and tilted his way while you look at him like he was a daring game you wanted to play so bad… he’d fumble awfully hard if he didn’t accept your advances.

“Please?” you insisted, begging through every blink of your dark lashes. In turn he scoffs with his tongue poking at his cheek, amused at how much bolder you’re getting.

Honestly, it’s really attractive as fuck. He’s no amateur in being able to read sexual undertones. With your suggestive words and passes, he thinks he ought to ‘fuck around and find out.’

“Maybe we could both get something out of it.”boldly, a hand of yours ends up on his thigh, which is red hot and startles his entire body— but in a good way.

You’re also burning inside from the risky move, but confidence prevails when you see him swallow thickly, giving you a look that tells you you’re starting something that’ll be hard for him to hold out against.

As you look at each other through strong, gravitating gazes, it’s mutual recognition that there’s no way you’d be leaving without seeing the good cop switch to play bad with you.

_________________________________________________

Minutes later, you’ve found your way into his lap.

Clothes had been yanked and unbuttoned off, flung up front without second thought. In no time, you both became handsy in exploring each other’s bodies, throbbing with eager to feel one another.

When he ripped open the condom packet with his teeth, pulled it snug over his hard, leaking cock, and you finally felt his girth break into you, you practically cried at how he fit like a glove.

Groans and low moans filled the car, your body lurching forward to dive into his lips with him accepting you just as greedily.

Teeth clashed together and breaths became heavier as you each went at it with relentlessly chasing for one another’s plump appendage. Your hips rolled into his body, his cock beating with fervor inside your warm hole.

Eric had a gentle but firm grip on your neck with his right hand, his mouth feening to pull and suck at your lips, movements sloppy and frantic from impatience to meet with your lavishly luscious lips, displaying the pent-up tension he had since meeting you.

You tasted so sweet from the cherry lolly, making him salivate like a dog from how juicy and delicious you tasted. He couldn’t help himself seeking for your red-stained tongue, swirling and twirling his own against it, sounds needy with every passing and brushing.

The rate you were moving at was filthy. He sucks gently on your lower lip before parting, his own lips dragging out a string of saliva after breaking contact, only making you pant for more.

“This what you wanted? Huh, baby?” his voice is a mixture of sultry, low, and breathy as he searches your eyes with a dangerous look, licking at his lips that are tainted a blotted red color from practically eating your lipstick off.

His hand is still on your neck, stroking your pulse point with his thumb, smirking when he can feel it racing.

He takes in your glossy, lusted eyes, expression breathless, smudged lips slightly parted beautifully. Your fingers threaded and clung to his hair, fighting to hide your face in his neck or look away at the question.

“You just let anyone have this precious pussy?” he teases some more, hands finding themselves feeling every inch of your flesh, from your collarbones, back, hips, and ass— he savors all of it, giving your body sweet squeezes in between the gawking.

You bite back a whine, overwhelmed by the heat in your sex and cheeks. A subtle shake of your head is what you give him along with a sheepish grin, tugging at your own bottom lip while you redirect your hands to his shoulders and muscles, pussy pulsing over his dick when you flatten your fingers over his bulky arms, the visible minimalistic tattoos scattered throughout only dizzying your senses even more.

“Only hot ones like you.” you tell him despite the burning flush that eats at your skin from the flirty, bold words.

His ego inflates, chest puffed out and flexing with a sly smile as you touch him, your sweet eyes so keen yet cautious when exploring all his fine details.

“Yeah? Guess i’m special.”

Your hands explored his upper body in fascination, nails raking down his chest like you struck gold with this man. You felt like such a perverted slut by throwing yourself at him and now squeezing his dick with your walls. But clearly there was no denying that this was more than okay with him.

Especially with how incredibly sexy you looked testing him out. There was a careful swivel of your hips as you soaked in the sensation of every inch and width of his cock, hissing when you lift yourself up just a bit and then back down, his length hitting everything inside of you.

Eric moans watching and feeling you begin to move, strangling his dick with your gummy, silky walls. It has him holding your hips steady, pinching and rubbing circles on the skin.

“You’re so tight, baby.” he hisses, mentally thanking God for gracing him with an invitation inside your pussy.

The furthest thing on his mind was the fact that he was crossing lines, going everything against the code of ethics. How unclassy and dishonorable was it for him to allow a girl he just met to ride him in the back of a vehicle that belonged to the law.

However, to simply put, he did not give a fuck.

Right now, he was getting his brain blown by your naked body grinding and driving his cock, taking him for a spin. What consumed him was the pornographic sounds of breathy mewls and skin slapping together, as well as how your silky walls coated his cock and aided him like a weighted blanket, bringing him succulent strokes and scrumptious stimulation, even through the rubber.

“Just like that.” he praised, still holding onto you and encouraging you to keep up the pace.

His praises and touches were addicting. He whispered things that gave you more motivation to please him and that complimented you, calling you a ‘gorgeous girl’ and reminding you in between groans that you were indeed getting him off.

Your pebbled, fleshy tits jiggled with every lift and clap against his body, sweat sticking and dripping down your spine from your efforts.

Splitting yourself open repeatedly over his thick cock was like a damn workout, but it granted you immaculate pleasure in your deepest spots that only had you obsessed in jumping for more.

You worked and worked beautifully for him, your heavy breaths mirroring his own as your walls sucked him in and out, his nerves getting tickled and scratched by every grip and glide of your walls.

It had him spouting out low whines, his cock head so bloated, feeling the heaviness and pressure in his lower region.

To divert the attention from busting before you yourself were even ready to, he suddenly grips and lifts your chin to get you steady, looking at you with an intense gaze, catching his breath for only a mere few seconds before bringing your face to collide with his own.

He swallows your whimpers and gasps, kissing you slow but sloppily, open mouthed yet soft as your lips mingled together. You moaned at how much of a good kisser he was, grinding on his wood while your hands roamed anxiously down his ripped back.

He parts to give your jawline and the underside of your earlobe some attention, dotting raw and gentle kisses over those spots, both of his hands getting busy simultaneously by roaming down your body.

His thumbs lazily roll your hard nipples, playing with them teasingly before sliding his right hand past and down your breasts, your muscles tightening as he brushes over your stomach.

When his hand meets your pelvis and fingers sweep over your clit, that triggers a shiver falling over your body, breath hitching at the contact.

You can feel him smiling over your skin as he continues to kiss your body, eventually breaking to focus more on your swollen nub.

His movements grow gradually, going from faint touches and some more teasing around the area, to directly starting a rhythm of rubbing your bundle of nerves.

You respond with clawing into his shoulder blades, throwing your head back and arching into his hand. The direct stimulation is making you whimper with eyes shut, aching and growing weaker by the minute just for him.

“How does this feel, hon?” Let me know. Don’t hide it.” his husky tone only makes you mewl more, him tonguing his cheek while he proceeds to play with your clit, you still bucking up into his touch.

“Fuck me, hard.” Feels so good.” you begged, wanting to be pounded by the sexy man whose touch was clearly one like Midas’. Those delicate hands that patched your scrape earlier were now touching your nude body, flicking and rubbing parts of you with naughty intent that made your body respond so well and scream for more through every throb, pant, and wave of heat.

A couple more presses on your sacred button and then he’s adjusting the both of you, digging his hands into the flesh of your hips and rear, his body leaning back slightly into the seat before he lifts your form with ease.

A disgustingly dirty, deep moan vibrates Eric’s throat once he starts to slide your pussy up and down his dick. Your slick, hungry walls hug his cock with so much greed and want, taking his hard girth like you were meant for this.

“Holy shit, that’s it. You’re such a good girl for me, baby.” he praises and talks you through it some more, consumed in being swallowed whole by that pretty little pussy of yours.

You’re holding onto him so tight as you bounce over him nonstop, his hips raising instinctively to meet your own with every plop down, still guiding you at a moderate pace.

Here you are, all his for the night, riding him to your heart’s content until you’re seeing stars and his cock breaks you enough to expel out enough cum for it to drip out onto the seats.

Eric looks at you through a heavy gaze, head leaned back with an open mouth, taking most of the control in bouncing you, watching you move up and down so gleefully as if he were your favorite carnival ride.

You’re killing him beautifully, just like he is for you. Pretty soon you’d both snap, falling to pieces once this rollar coaster reaches peak and drops down.

You held onto him for dear life, matching his uneven breaths and parted lips paired with desperate eyes.

Being stretched and pierced on repeat by this officer was such a way to end the night. You don’t think anything in the world could beat this. It was riveting and thrilling through every touch, feeling, and sound.

And then finally, it’s like he knew. He knew you were about to explode and finish. Your noises grew more closer together, falling onto him harder, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and your eyes fighting to stay open.

“Don’t hold back. Cum for me. Go ‘head, hon.” he’s assertive yet gentle, jerking up and manhandling you a couple last times with grumbly grunts, indicating that his leaky cock head was about to erupt.

Those last drives of his hardness paired with his throaty moans as he finally spurts gooey jets of white into his condom, triggers your body to unleash and respond back. Cries and cum of your own pops out, face falling into the crook of his neck, your hands and pussy gripping onto him as your release takes over.

“Atta’ girl. So fucking good, baby.” his voice is raspy and leaning close to a whisper as he’s blown out a load, catching his breath while a hand attempts to bring you to a state of tranquility and hush your elevated heart rate through strokes down your spine.

Body so heavy and out of it with hooded eyes, you remained clinging to his body, sunken into him with your uneven breaths landing on his neck. He moves slightly to readjust you both comfortably, giving you all the time in the world to recover, hand still lingering all over your backside.

Regardless of the sweat soaking your bodies and your cum that began to seep out your hole and drip down his ballsack even while his cock remains inside that’s trapped by a dirty, full condom, there’s no urgency to move.

It feels nice for a moment. To be held by a stranger who proved to be worth while and got your rocks off. The eerie sounds of crickets and birds already singing songs although the sun still has hours before it rises was able to be heard once you two had settled heartbeats, but it still remained serene despite being in the cramped backseat, naked and flushed in the middle of the night.

Even while crashed out in this stifling car, windows fogged up and coating the interior with scents that’d stretch a disgusted look on outsider’s faces, you believe this is the best night of your life.

And then when you both realize Eric was basically still on duty, and that you can’t remain in this car all night, he has the courtesy to help you get dressed, sharing giggles and knowing-shy smiles like you both were naive teenagers.

Once dressed, he offers to walk you all the way up to your door. Clinging onto every second more possible, he takes advantage of being around you until he really has to go.

You don’t mind it one bit.

Before you know it, you’re standing right in front of your door. You turn to him, who was already clinging and holding onto your hand, charmed smile adorning his features that has your ears blazing hot, barely able to keep eye contact when you’re already replaying the intimate scenes that went down tonight.

It’s almost enough to invite him inside for perhaps another round or even to stay for the night, but you knew now wasn’t the time after you unapologetically took up a decent chunk of his time already.

It’s like he can read your mind, so he leans low into you, stealing one last kiss.

It contrasts the crazed and impatient makeouts from earlier. He falls onto you slow and steady, almost as if he’s conveying with his lips how much he valued your time for the night, and trying to make the moment last a tiny bit longer.

Hand on the small of your back, he rubs your body while one of yours holds onto the nape of his neck, his rugged, hard uniform pressed into your now-creased dress.

Breaking from your swollen lips, he brings his mouth to your ear, giving your core a whirl when his words are a mixture of sweet and salacious.

He promises that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see him, already fantasizing over the next time he’d get to see your pretty face and pussy— hopefully hanging out somewhere other than his cop car.

And when he leaves your sight with a satisfied smirk after providing you with his personal phone number, not only does the sore space between your legs swell in excitement and glee, but your heart does, too.

Perhaps the next time you two meet up, you’d let him cuff you and take possession over you…

Literally and figuratively.

You were three months away from your departure to Los Angeles, the place where you obtained a scholarship for the next year of university, after you noticed nothing worked your way anymore here. Your excuse of a relationship ended a few months ago after it proved to be a waste of your time as you unfortunately weren’t the only person in your ex partner’s life (and it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, because you were just trying to get over someone, yet the someone in question was the one to comfort you after you found out you were being cheated on). The café you worked at was suddenly closed due to your manager’s fraud, and your landlord decided she wanted to sell the apartment you were living in—hence, you were now crashing either Sunwoo’s or Eric’s place with tears on your face and a generous ice cream box in your lap. You practically couldn’t lose anything else; your world was already crashing as it was. You were one season away from starting a new life and forgetting every moment you lived here—if only Cupid didn’t have other plans for you.

“Yn, I got us the tickets!” Sunwoo said, flicking the three paper pieces in front of you as he handed you some tissues to wipe your tears—he assumed you couldn’t even see him clearly with the number of droplets sitting at the corner of your eyes.

You looked at him through heavy lids, giving him a small, though honest smile. He promised you he would get the three of you tickets to a summer festival you really wanted to go to, and despite losing faith in mostly everything, his little gesture made you smile.

“My friends managed to get ‘em too, so it’s gonna be around thirteen people, including me, you, and Eric,” he winked, making you frown.

Despite wanting to tell him not to plan anything stupid, you could only nod at his words, getting off the bed and going to give yourself a little refresh as you really felt horrible. For a moment, you wondered what made you agree to spend your summer like this—traveling with Sunwoo and Eric and creating memories that would probably haunt you in LA—but they were your childhood friends, and it was the least you could do for them before leaving. You remembered the way Eric cried for two days straight when you told him you were leaving, the memory making you chuckle as much as it pained your heart. The two boys held a very special place in your heart, especially Eric, as he was your partner in crime, your kindergarten boyfriend, and the guy you literally promised to marry if you two weren’t dating anyone by your twenties. What made you leave when you had him?

You never believed he was actually being for real when he told you he would risk it all for you.

You and Eric were aware of your feelings for each other, but the pressure of losing everything that bloomed between the two of you made you choose to remain friends, despite wanting nothing more than to kiss each other every time you met. You thought you were doing great, being in love with your ex and slowly forgetting about him—yet your past relationship did nothing but push you back into the arms of the man you were trying to run from.

Eric didn’t handle it any better than you—he spent nights crying every time he saw the love your eyes held, knowing damn well that love wasn’t meant for him. He’s sure he could do better than hurt the love of his life ever since he was a kid—yet the fear of losing you completely made him say yes to your proposal of being only friends. And what now? He was going to lose you anyway—and instead of being happy whenever he saw you, his eyes held nothing but regret and sorrow.

The festival was in a week, but the boys and their friends decided that a longer stay at the seaside wouldn’t hurt anybody—hence you were stepping into the summer house you all rented for about two weeks. You and Sunwoo were almost the last to arrive, leaving later than everybody else so that, according to his wise words, you two won’t seem too desperate to be there. He quickly introduced you to his friends—Hyunjae, Sangyeon and Jacob, who you were pretty familiar with as they were your seniors in university. Also, Jacob, Chanhee, and Changmin, whom you accidentally saw in Sunwoo’s apartment while you were FaceTiming him when he needed company for the sleepover preparations. Juyeon, Kevin and Younghoon were totally new faces for you. That made only twelve of you though, but you supposed the last one was on his way.

“So you are the unpopular friend who’s leaving for Los Angeles, right?” Sangyeon approached you with a friendly smile, watching you nod at him.

“Stop mentioning it, for God’s sake! Eric is gonna cry if he hears this one more time,” Sunwoo sighed, warning the boys in advance.

“Eric is not here yet though,” Hyunjae replied, flashing you the same friendly smile.

“Why is he taking so long?” Sunwoo whined, wanting to finally have everyone settled down so he could rest.

A pang of worry nibbled at the back of your mind as you feared the boy could have gotten into an accident or something, the others noticing your change of demeanour as well. Younghoon opened his mouth to say something, but when the door opened, revealing the handsome black-haired boy, he gave up quickly and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re finally here!” Sunwoo squealed, not even letting the poor boy take his shoes off as he went to hug him.

As much as Eric seemed to go into Sunwoo’s direction, arms open to receive his hug, he walked right past the now shocked boy, hugging you tight.

“Sorry for taking so long. The queue at the store was crazy,” he smiled innocently, one arm still looped around your waist as he pointed to the supplies he had bought.

“Oh, by the way,” Haknyeon started, an innocent smile on his face, “Since you guys were the last to make it here, we already chose our rooms, so the three of you are going to share the biggest one.”

Sunwoo let out an exasperated sigh as he took his luggage, going straight to your assigned room. Eric looked at you and shrugged defensively, hiding his happiness when you rolled your eyes, aiming for your luggage, not expecting him to do the same thing. The moment you felt his skin on yours, you looked down immediately to see your hands touching, both holding on the handle of your luggage for dear life.

“Sorry, I—I thought you might need some help with this,” he said quickly, and you slowly let go of the luggage, watching him take both yours and his baggage effortlessly into your room.

You swore you could see a hint of blush on his cheeks, and to be fair, you were scared of your image as the butterflies in your stomach started dancing again.

A few hours passed, which meant everyone had time to rest and freshen up. You were slowly rocking yourself on the swing outside, the cold breeze of the wind making you shiver as you wore a floral summer dress. You wanted to go back and dress in something warmer when you felt a warm material on your shoulders, looking behind you to see Eric cover you with his blouse, a small smile adorning his face.

“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?” Eric asked, sitting next to you on the swing, making it move lightly.

You, you wanted to say, but you chose to gulp the word away and look at the sunset instead: “Nothing in particular.”

You adore Eric. You think it was bound to happen at one point, but you wanted to curse at yourself for how stupid you were. The what ifs floating inside of your mind were driving you crazy, always thinking of what could have been if you had just gone with the flow and dated Eric. You were also wondering why he kept pinning after you when he was supposed to hate you—but he was different. He was the one who took care of you, letting you cry on his shoulder and stain his shirts with your pain as he struggled to hold his own tears, constantly telling you that you were strong and that you deserved so much better. You and Eric were always attached at the hip, leaving everyone who didn’t know you speechless when you told him you were, in fact, not dating.

On the other side, Eric was overwhelmed. He was so consumed by how to make things work, walking on barbed wire as he counted the days ‘till your departure. You two were idiots in love who chose to give your love to other people instead of admitting you had feelings for each other—but it was the cruel reality he had to get used to.

“I’m cold, but I don’t want to go inside yet,” you mumbled, and you immediately felt Eric’s hands wrap around your waist, making you prop yourself up on his chest.

And oh, how happy you were you weren’t facing him, because you didn’t want him to see your crimson painted cheeks and the way a smile made its way on your face.

“Chanhee asked me if we were dating,” he chuckled bitterly, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

In fact, talking to Chanhee and Changmin might have led a path for him, he was just waiting for the right moment…

During the trip, all you and Eric did was become closer under the witnessing eyes of everyone else. The day of the festival was finally there, and you had just finished getting yourself ready when Sunwoo knocked at your door.

“You look pretty,” he smiled softly, hoping you could see yourself the same way he and Eric did. “Eric’s done too, so you two can wait for us on the swing.”

You gave him a short hug and made your way downstairs, watching as Eric kept arranging his hair in the mirror and announcing your presence with a giggle.

“Hi, handsome,” you said, going behind him and fixing a rebel strand of his hair.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, his boba eyes a bit bigger than usual as he waited for your answer.

Instead of giving him a straight answer, you kissed his cheek. “Eric, let’s date.”

The poor boy choked. Was his hearing deceveing him?

“What has gotten into you?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for too long, Eric. We denied our love for so long, and I’m gonna leave soon anyway. Let’s make it work for just these three months. Let’s see what this season has for us.”

You said all of that in one breath, pausing to catch it as you let Eric digest what you just told him, though all you got was silence.

“Eric, of course, only if you still like me—”

You were interrupted by a pair of soft lips on yours. He kissed you delicately, one hand going to your waist while the other made its way to your cheek, caressing it softly with his thumb as he pulled you closer. He wanted to remember how your lips tasted, how they felt against his—he didn’t want to forget you. It felt crazy to agree to this, feeling like he was signing for his death sentence at his own risk, blown away by your cruelty—but he enjoyed the thrill. Because, maybe he was destined to spend only one season with you, disguising his pain into happiness just to be able to call you his. Even if it was for a short time.

“We are read—oh my God, I’m so sorry!” you heard Kevin scream as the first thing he saw was your kissing session, giving you a reality check as you pushed Eric away.

The night of the festival was one of the most beautiful moments you have ever experienced. You kissed Eric under the fireworks, the loud EDM music cheering on the two of you along with the ten boys (because, apparently, everyone noticed your affinity for each other). You danced together, and it made you feel happier than you’ve ever been in any of your past relationships. It also made you sad because why now when it was too late and you would have to leave him behind along with all the memories, forcing yourself into an unwanted amnesia.

“Are you okay, pretty girl?” he raised his voice so he could be heard through the loud music, making you nod and kiss his cheek.

Maybe you just had to let loose; have your last moments of glory before you would leave everything behind.

That summer was both the most precious and the most heartbreaking one, all at once. You and Eric visited Paris together, celebrating your love as you shared sweet kisses in front of the Eiffel Tower. You sealed your love lock against the Pont des Arts, celebrating the relationship you ran from for so long. You spent your nights laughing on the balcony of your hotel rooms (until your neighbours started complaining that you were bothering their sleep), talking until you could feel the rays of sunshine rise above you, kissing until both of you would be left with no air, becoming each other’s oxygen.

All these memories were bringing tears to your eyes as you were waiting for your departure, counting the minutes ‘till you had to leave the airport and soon enough, the country.

It has been six months since you broke off any contact with your friends, with him. You tried your best to get over him, but you just couldn’t. The guilt of not even telling them when you would leave so they could bid their goodbye to you was pressing painfully at your heart—and you were quite sure this wasn’t what your new life was supposed to be. Your non-stop overthinking must have led you to the most impulsive thoughts, even begging for a wonder that would make you forget it all and ease your pain—but, pushed by the longing of the memories you simply couldn’t forget, you took your laptop and started browsing the net.

Eric still found himself crying in Sunwoo’s arms, wondering why you had to leave like that, why you had to cut him off, even after he swore he could make it work for you. Maybe he was stupid for believing that a summer spent with you would give him the closure that he needed—because it only left a deep wound in his heart as all he could think about was you. He would find himself whispering your name in his sleep, his hands naturally searching for your body so that he could hug you—but it was all in vain.

“Someone’s at the door, I’ll be right back. Wipe your nose,” Sunwoo said softly to his friend, patting his back as Eric nodded and took the napkin from his friend’s hand.

The eldest let out a high-pitched scream as he saw who was in front of his door, dropping everything to welcome the special guest properly.

“Sohn Youngjae, come downstairs! NOW!” He commanded, and Eric felt a piercing pain in his ears at the older’s scream.

He was sure he looked way too bad to be in everyone’s proximity right now—but when he saw you standing in front of the door, dragging your luggage after you, he forgot about it all.

“Remember me?” you asked innocently, looking at Eric with tears in your eyes.

He came straight to you and hugged you tight, making you wrap your legs around his waist before he started spinning the both of you, tears streaming down both your and his face.

“Did you really come back?” he asked, pressing your foreheads together, lips hovering over yours just enough to tease you.

“Guess I couldn’t leave you, after all.”

You still didn’t know how his heart could hold so much kindness—you were expecting him to not even want to see you, yet, despite all the pain you caused each other, you were in each other’s arms again. You pressed your lips against his, bringing him closer to you by his nape as he found himself melting at the touch. He deepened the kiss (forgetting about Sunwoo, who was pretty bamboozled at the sight), squeezing your hips and tilting your heads so that he could taste all of you after so much time.

“Guys, I am still—” Sunwoo tried to remind you, but Eric raised one hand to prevent the older one from talking. “And to think I was wiping his nose earlier…” he sighs defeatedly, watching as Eric took the two of you upstairs, still holding you close to him.

It took you long enough to realise that home was in your boyfriend’s arms, holding enough power to stitch your wounds and heal them with his love for you. The memories were holding onto you for dear life, your forced amnesia having nothing on you as the only place that could bring you happiness was where your hearts united, sealing a relationship full of love, floating around you wherever you were.

i said that i wasn't going to post any sunwoo for a while after writing 27k for him but...sunwoo driving. yeah. that was...the inspiration- also my first time writing in this format hehe~

Best friend Sunwoo who loves to drive you everywhere without complaints

Best friend Sunwoo who doesn’t let you take the public transport, especially if he’s available to drive you

Best friend Sunwoo who responds with “You can sleep in the car more comfortably than in the bus”, and admittedly, he’s right; you keep oversleeping and missing your stop anyway

Best friend Sunwoo who won’t let you pay for fuel or a cup of tea to repay his hard work, and instead always replying with “I’ll tell you how to repay me when I have an idea.”

Best friend Sunwoo who feels his heart beating rapidly against his chest whenever he parks outside your house and waits for you

Best friend Sunwoo who always blushes and has a whole body malfunction whenever he sees you

Best friend Sunwoo who stares at you for way too long, even if your outfit is just a hoodie and sweatpants

Best friend Sunwoo who always has a stash of plushies, blankets, snacks and jackets for you to use

Best friend Sunwoo who makes the lightest of turns and breaks as gently as possible to not stir you awake

Best friend Sunwoo who blushes at your sleeping figure, adjusting the jacket or blanket on your body, or catches glances at your excited self as you sing your heart out with him

Best friend Sunwoo who always think about taking the longest way to the destination to spend more time with you

Best friend Sunwoo who asks when your event ends so that he could pick you up; and would pout if you said you had a ride home

Best friend Sunwoo who drives home alone and commits to finally telling you how he feels about you 

Best friend Sunwoo who spends the rest of the day getting gifts, decorating his car and wiping his nervous, sweaty palms on the fabric of his pants

Best friend Sunwoo who gets a text saying that you’re home safe and sound, and replying with “Can I come over for a bit?”

Best friend Sunwoo who never knew that a drive to your house could be filled with so much nervousness

Best friend Sunwoo whose eyes widens at the sight of you walking aimlessly outside your house in the cold weather, eyes beaming at the sight of him

Best friend Sunwoo who scolds you for not waiting inside to which you defend yourself with, “No. I wanted to be here as soon as you arrive.”

Best friend Sunwoo who feels like he could faint at any moment as you ask him what’s wrong and why he asked to meet you all of a sudden

Best friend Sunwoo who doesn’t say a word, takes your hand into his and opens the car door for you

Best friend Sunwoo who sees the way the corner of your lips rises with his gesture, eyes exploring the plushies and flowers whilst looking at him with slightly knitted brows

Best friend Sunwoo who rehearsed his confession but his mind goes blank at the sight of you. Rapid words comes out instead, “I love you not as a best friend but as a person and you’re just so amazing and beautiful and you’re the best part of my day and whenever I don’t see you I miss you and when I do see you, I still miss you anyway and I just want to hold hands with you and-”

Best friend Sunwoo who stops his rambling when you press your lips on his cheek. “You’re the cutest, Kim Sunwoo. I love you too.”

Boyfriend Sunwoo who cups the side of your face soothingly, guiding his lips to yours. He’s smiling when your lips meet and you held onto his wrist to steady your heartbeat

Boyfriend Sunwoo who asks you for a night drive only for you to pout at him and tell him you had plans that you didn’t tell him about because you felt bad about him always dropping you off

Boyfriend Sunwoo who says, “Okay, you can repay me all those rides by going on a date with me tomorrow after your plans.”

Boyfriend Sunwoo who kisses your contemplations away, resting his forehead against yours. “Okay,” you feel your face heating up.

Satisfied boyfriend Sunwoo who pulls you into a tight, warm hug. “I’ll take you there. To your plans and the date.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 the boyz masterlist