#emswriting

Favorite Hatchetfield media: Killer track, followed by Abstinance camp and Black friday (Yes I have a thing for characters played by Kim, sue me)

Favorite Hatchetfield characters: Miss Holloway, Becky Barnes, Alice Woodward, Girl Jeri (If you notice a pattern no you don't) Also Webby and the Lords in black.

Favorite Hatchetfield ships: Barneston (Becky x Tom) Zailey (Zoey x Hailey) Campfire confessions (Girl Jeri x Karen Chasity) Alice and deb(? I don't know their ship name) Holloweane (Miss Holloway x Douglas Keane) Retroweb (Miss Holloway x Webby)

I draw NSFW occasionally, it will be tagged accordingly and hidden below the cut!

Other things: I have autism and PTSD, the latter often appears in my fics because I enjoy writing it, just a heads up! I do primarily ship art Requests are open! I'm a Holloway fictionkin :)

DNI: I'm a very open blog, everyone's welcome here. Please don't mention Hollowcross in my tags/comments/reblogs though! It'd be greatly appericiated as it's the only ship I really can't stand. No hate to people who ship it though! Try to keep sexual jokes/comments to a minimum especially if you're over 18, as I'm still a minor :) Don't worry, you don't need to be a saint, I'm not either.

Tags:

I'll be sure to include personal tags in each post so filtering is easier! They'll all be tagged in this post too

#emsyaps - Yapping/rambling posts!

#emsreblogs - ...reblogs

#emsart - Art...

#emsartNSFW - also art but NSFW

NOTE: NSFW will never also be tagged as Art to avoid people in the art tag stumbling across NSFW. There won't be NSFW in the art tag ever #emswriting - writing!

#emsedits - edits

Socials:

Tiktok: @ems_the.les

Discord: @ems_the.les

A03: UltraStrongHairspray (Don't ask)

Enjoy!!!

AO3 Masterlist:

oooh you wanna read this so bad

Starkid: I'll hold you for as long as I'm allowed to - Jenny/Ted Spankoffski, hallucinations, 737 words

The only one who needs to like me is you - Deb/Alice Woodward, comfort after a fight, 908 words

Not this time - Miss Holloway/Douglas 'Duke' Keane, Death and dying, 1,780 words, 1/2 chapters

Grease: Rise of the pink ladies A wonderful day at the bitch - Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski, beach day (with a sprinkle of gender dysphoria), 936 words

Trick, and I'll treat you (right) - Jane Facciano/Susan st. Claire, halloween costumes, 714 words

Rumor has it - Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski, fake boyfriend, 4,291 words, 2/9 chapters

Starlight Express: Dine and crash - Dinah/Greaseball, meet cute, 1,325 words

One multichapter fic in the works!

It really is one thing to have someone out you just to being a nosey shit like you know Jin has been aching to. But to out yourself without even an ounce of alcohol in your system and in a defenseless state with Hoseok seems so unbearable to think that Yoongi might’ve heard everything in that practice confession makes you want to burrow deeper underneath the covers and never see the light of day. You hate that part the most.

Everything has been so good up until now. To think that anyone could doubt the strength of yours and his relationship just because roommates are a different tier was, again, laughable. Nothing could change the close-knit relationship you and Yoongi share. Ever the cuddle bugs, the two of you could just as easily snuggle up together on the couch or in the other’s bed on lazy morning. Most of the cleaning switched off between you two, though he always liked kitchen duty. Cooking was his favorite and you could compromise easily with dishwashing and prepping all the ingredients. If ever the two of you found yourselves swamped with work, you would remind one another that living took maintenance, too.

It was perfect. So damn perfect that, of course, life had to go and fuck it all up. (Read: you had to go and fuck it all up.)  Of course, you had to just fall in love with you best friend slash roommate. Of course, he had to be the invasive type that won’t let shit go. Of course, that’s because he likes to resolve conflict before it gets out of hand, even if sometimes there isn’t any conflict to begin with. Of course, of course, of fucking course.

You let out a groan, only somewhat muffled by the thin summer bedsheet meant to keep you and him separated.

“Do we have to?”

At the very least it can be your safety blanket through all of this. You just don’t know when the rejection will come. But you’ll be prepared for it. Hopefully…

Yoongi grunts, “Move over.”

Even though he can’t see you, he doesn’t miss the hiss of confusion that leaves your lips without a second though. And in response, he simply repeats himself. He even adds in a soft please that makes your defenses weaken by a smidgen. You move over.

It isn’t long after he finds the corner of the blanket that you weren’t able to tuck away underneath your body and slithers his way inside. He stops once your shoulders touch and he feels the way you stiffen beside him. You think that this is the best way to stifle the erratic beating in your chest, but you’re probably wrong. Maybe he can hear it after all. Maybe he’s thinking of how to let you down gently just to salvage the pieces of this friendship.

In your head, it’ll be over. All that comfort, domesticity, and god, the warmth. You won’t have your best friend anymore. That’s the worst one. Not having him even as a person as your life. Maybe it’s dangerous how much you’ve found solace in him; that by burrowing him so deeply in your heart, there may only be a him-shaped hole if he decides against this all. But you’ve always been one for dramatics. Your mind likes to play up simple scenarios.

Yeah, it’ll hurt. Like a bitch for sure. But change is what you fear most.

“Hey.” The sound is clearer now that the sheet is gone and residing on both your chests. Yoongi looks over at you before letting loose a sigh when you do. “Should I repeat my earlier question or are you done trying to think of a way out of this conversation?”

“I mean, we should talk about it. Do I want to? Not really. Will I? Yeah.”

“Why don’t you want to?” He sounds confused and your eyebrows furrow. If you could just look at him, then you might understand why but you’re too nervous to chance it.

“Why do you sound so confused?”

“Why not? My best friend just confessed her love for me to my other best friend and she hasn’t even heard my answer.”

“Well, I suppose… it depends on your response. Then, maybe she might be interested in talking about it.”

“Would she—I mean would you look at me? Confessing feels weird if you’re doing it to the side of someone’s head.”

“Wait, what?” You turn to face him and meet his eyes as if searching for some kind of indicator that he is simply pulling your leg to get you to look at him. But Yoongi isn’t like that. He looks at you with sincerity and softness. There’s even a small quirk at the corner of his lip when you turn completely on your side.

“You heard me.” He tries to be stern, but he follows your move so he can face you properly and uses one arm to rest underneath his head. “But I want to do this right.”

“I went first, so by all means, go for it.”

He smiles fully and takes in every inch of your visage in one, laborious sweep. For a moment, he rests a little too long on your lips, but you opt to ignore that in favor of hearing his familiar and since timbre. “I think it takes an idiot to not see how madly I’m in love with you.” You have to stifle a snort and the urge to call him a copycat for stealing your opening line. “There’s no one else I would rather cohabit with than you. Even when you make me do all the cooking and the cleaning and steal my warmth, hey, why are you laughing? Be serious here! I’m trying to profess my love for you.”

“I think you deserve a C minus for that bare minimum effort, Min. At least my confession had spunk. Now you’re stretching truths and plagiarizing. What would all your SoundCloud fans say to this, huh?”

He snorts and then shakes his head at you.

“It got you laughing didn’t it? And, I mean it’s true to the extent that I do love you as someone that I would be greatly honored to spend the rest of my life with. You do the dishes like no other and you even cheer me on when I do performances in the shower.”

“I mean, your Celine Dion needs work but ‘My Heart Will Go On’ loving you regardless of your Titanic hating ass.”

“I’m not sure what I’m in most disbelief over… the fact that you consider Titanic a masterpiece with a shit ending like that, or that pun you just made.” He lets out a resigned sigh while his fingertips tuck some stray locks behind your ear. “But I don’t mind it so much coming from you.”

You place your hand atop of his, allowing the warmth of his palm to rest on your cheek. Your other hand presses onto his chest, and you instantly break out into a broad smile. Your heart can’t seem to stop fluttering, but you don’t mind it so much.

Not when you know that his heart beats just as loudly yours. 

/

(“Okay, from the top.” Hoseok instructs you through the phone screen. “And this time, keep the pausing to a minimum. We want fearless and self-assured.”

“Have you ever fearlessly professed your love to somebody, Hobi?”

He looks away from the screen if only to formulate a comeback that earns laughter from you. “Not if I can’t nail down a simple ‘I love you,’ I haven’t! Now this is about you, not me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave your loveless love life out of this.” He shoots a glare your way and you can’t see him purposefully edge his finger over the front camera just to hover it over the “end call” button. “I’m kidding! Look, I mean it when I say that this is harder than it looks. I can’t just say, ‘Hey Yoongi! I’m in love with you.’”

“Well, what would you say then?”

“I dunno. Maybe something like… I think it takes an idiot to not see how madly I’m in love with you. And, I mean there isn’t anyone else I spend as much time with than you, Yoongi. If I could somehow describe the way you make me feel, then maybe it’s like when we spend nights in during rainy days when we don’t have anything else to do. It’s just comfortable. It’s the kind of comfort that I’ve never had as strongly as I do with you. I love it. I love yo—’”

“Y/N?” Hoseok says, looking nervous.

“What?”

“Yoongi’s behind you.”

You guffawed at the sheer prospect of doing that. Of course, you could. But would you do that? Hell no. You liked to think that Jung Jaehyun was part of a time where nothing really mattered besides letter grades and grade-point averages.

High school in itself was a fleeting moment in time that you both cherished and kept at a distance, though he made himself an exception just by existing; you just didn’t know what to expect if you decided to open up that can of worms. He was perfect, really. A basketball point guard, top student in English, music, and most obviously, home economics, and kind, invigorating, and enigmatic all the same. You didn’t know him like you wanted to, nor did you really know him very much at all (unless you counted that one meaningful conversation you shared with him). To talk him again would be nice, to catch up over these past couple of years, to finally have a moment that lasted more than just a couple minutes in between classes. God, that would be a dream.

But that was all it was, wasn’t it? He probably doesn’t remember me like I remember him… You shook your head, hoping that was enough to will away the thoughts and the very faint memories prickling the back of your mind.

Ten deadpanned and met your gaze, “So, you’re going to spend your entire time back in town just staring at the love of your life through windows instead of actually pursuing him like you’ve been dreaming of for God-only-knows how long?”

“I don’t love him,” you retorted, rolling your eyes as you went back to stocking up the bookshelves. This time shifting the large cart between the two of you for easier access, and to create a barrier for whatever he was trying to insinuate. “I’m back to help out the shop, not stroll down memory lane with some guy I talked to like once in grade school.”

Naturally, it was a failed effort.

Just as he grabbed a book, gaze flickering over the title to put it into place, he said, “Perhaps letting you know that he stopped by the store a few times to ask about you wouldn’t mean very much then, huh?”

You paused. Your eyes narrowing from the silver font of the title to the silver-haired man beside you.

“Hm?”

“What?” he blinked his stupid, cat-like eyes in innocence. “Did you need me to repeat myself?”

“When did he—?” you paused for a second time, already knowing you fell right into Ten’s trap. “Stop messing with me! There’s no point in getting my hopes up when I know he has never thought of me like that.”

“So, you do care then?”

“I don’t,” you responded stiffly.

“Are you sure?”

You shook your head. Of course, you fucking did. You just didn’t want to give that little shit the satisfaction of being right, again.

“When have I ever led you astray when it comes to Baker Boy over there, Y/N? You were so sure he had no clue who you were back then, but can you remember what I told you and what happened after that?”

Your lips formed a small thin line, almost a pout but without the playful pretenses as you’ve always flashed at him.

Of fucking course you remembered. It was one thing to know Jaehyun knew your name, but it was another thing to actually talk to him about your writing and hear him read his favorite poem to you aloud. You didn’t know why or what possessed him to do this, but it was senior year. And it was all you could think about even now, returning for summer break, back to where you got to see him without the crowd and watchful eyes of peers.

“C’mon, Y/N. Was he really just some guy from high school?”

“Shut up,” you sighed, sideying him as you put a few more books up onto the shelves. “It was ages ago.”

“And somehow you’re still thinking about a what-if with him.” Another thwack punctuated the statement.

You didn’t like where this was headed. And you stated so with a grumble, “Or you’re pulling some wizarding bullshit on me just so I’ll do what you have planned in that evil, little brain of yours, demon.”

“Actually, I prefer being called Cupid.”

He laughed as soon as he turned back on his heel and met your perturbed expression. A part of him leaned on the entryway toward the reading room, where a few passerby congregated. Some of which appeared to be couples of different tiers—the old-timers, the honeymooners, and the just-beginners.

The feigned discomfort on your visage faded while one of longing took its place. You didn’t particularly care for relationships now, but you remembered wanting one so badly when you were younger. You remembered a time where you only dreamt of interacting with Jaehyun, somehow only seeing him at the far distance most people saw any idol of a sort, before that day in Miss Calinao’s classroom. You remembered talking to him and watching the crush fade into something else, a possibility that perhaps you weren’t a stupid kid secretly chasing (read: ogling) a guy after all. You knew now that you didn’t need a relationship, really, that if you were to engage in Jung Jaehyun, then it was simply to catch up and reminisce, nothing more.

But what if there is more? The voice asked, sounding more like Ten than what you would’ve preferred. He was off finishing the rounds for strays on the coffee table, returning some of the teacups to the kitchens for later washing. You had drifted from that area to break room after double checking your checklist and found nothing else needed to be done to your relief, though it left more room for your mind to drift than you preferred.

A small wave of a hand blocked your focus, while the bemused titter of your coworker snickered at you once more. Instead of saying what you heard in your head like part of you expected, Ten asked, “Did you hear me?”

You shook your head before letting a loud sigh loose. “What do you want now, demon?”

“You’re on your fifteen, right?”

You glanced at your watch and then nodded slowly. It hadn’t occurred to you until then. Perhaps you could wander around the street… maybe glance at the bakery on your way to ShareTea. You had no actual reason to walk inside anyway.

“Do me and Nana a favor—!”

You blinked, “Wha—” What’s he up to…?

“—and grab us something from across the street.”

Goddamn demon.

/

Your own heart trembled as you walked toward the cream- and sky blue-colored building.

The very path was familiar.

Each step taking you back to a simpler time, where daydreams were less about your future job and more about ways in which you could bridge the acquaintance gap with Jung Jaehyun and become something. It was purely innocent back then. Always a hope and a scenario that brought you two closer; after all, you were both workers to neighboring establishments. How cute would it have been if you two had gotten closer back then and gone to work together? Left for home together? Maybe he could’ve walked you home. He seems like the type—

You cracked a small smile at the thought and felt your cheeks burn as soon as you got to the sidewalk. There were hardly any people around, a result of the summer heat, that made the prospect of entering both frightening and actually quite relieving. There wouldn’t be any possible familiar faces trying to engage either of you in conversation, or, well, engage Jaehyun in conversation. You could see him at the cash register and a few others scurrying in and out of the kitchen, but the sight wasn’t what beckoned you forward. It was the smell.

Even from the entrance of the book shop, you could smell the vanilla extract wafting off the assortment of sponge cakes. Some of them came in small and stout, tall and long, and somewhere in-between, each in a vast variety of colors and designs that made your stomach ache for a taste of the familiar softness and warmth only they could elicit above all other desserts. The most popular and your favorite, hands down, was the strawberry shortcake.

It reminded you of him the most.

You knew he decorated that one the best. Each one a work of his, right down to the way the dollop of cream perfectly stood beside the carefully sliced strawberries to the carnation circle wrapped around the middle. The scent was like a blast from the past, taking you right back to the days when you stopped inside for a few treats for your coworkers at the bookstore and when Ten decided to push you inside in hopes of giving you the necessary push that you always needed when it came to your highschool crush. But what gets you was the scent, because that was very much Jaehyun as well.

His smile was exactly like the dessert he was best at—soft, sweet, with just the right amount of warmth. And the moment you met eyes with him after the chime of the doorside bell, you were greeted with that very smile.

Truthfully, he looked very much like his high school self. Still handsome as ever, with his features much more filled out and prominent. His head of chestnut locks fell atop his forehead in haphard array, cropped at the bottom so the top was the fullest; dark brown eyes still alight with interest and invitation; and, small dust of flour brushed across his nose and near his cheekbones.

He said your name with a greeting. You realized it was with a hint of surprise and an undeniable twinge of happiness that you have only ever been privy to once a few times before, but you couldn’t deny your own swell of happiness as you walked up to the counter with a smile of your own.

“Hey, Jaehyun.”

For once in a very long time, you were saying his name to him directly, and it felt like a flutter off your lips. Almost so casual it was unreal.

His smile matched his eyes as he asked, “How’ve you been? I take it you’re back for summer break as well?”

You nodded, “I’m helping back at the shop across the street. Like old times.”

“Old times,” he repeated, giving an appreciative nod. “Well, I’m glad. It’s nice to see such a familiar face these days.”

Glancing around, you could definitely see the lack of people. A part of you hoped that his statement meant more than just seeing anyone from high school, but the realistic part of you knew that that was a silly, high school-like desire.

“I see that. Seems like baked goods aren’t very popular in this heat huh?” You tilted your head at him, “you really haven’t seen anyone from high school?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve seen too many people from high school. The ones I don’t talk to as much, I mean.” An interesting look passed over his face, something akin to fondness you would say. But you didn’t think that meant anything. Even if he did say that not many people he talked to stopped by… all things considered, you should be in that category, really.

“Well, I hope I’m not part of that unfortunate high school bunch,” you laughed a little. Part of you already expected some change in his expression. Maybe something that would give away his true feelings, but he merely looked alarmed and shook his head quite fiercely.

“No, no. I promise you, you’re part of the best bunch. In fact, I was hoping to see you around.”

You blinked hard, wondering if you heard him correctly. He gulped immediately upon your lack of response.

“I—I—I mean, well, yeah. I stopped by the bookstore a few times—for books, of course—and to see if you were around. And I did see you a few times not too long ago, I’m sorry for not stopping by myself. I, truthfully, have been working some courage to do just that.”

“What? Really?” You couldn’t even stop to mask the astonishment, and your cheeks paid the price for it.

“Y-yeah,” he laughed nervously. “It’s just… I feel like we didn’t talk as much as I hoped we would in high school. I know we got to before graduation, but I wished it had been sooner. I’m not sure if you remember, but what you said about my recitation really meant a lot back then. Gave me quite a bit of courage to go off of these past few semesters.”

“I—um—I’m really glad to hear that. It’s a pretty big surprise for me, honestly. A wonderful one at that. I’d like to thank you for what you said about my work, too. It’s helped me with all these writing workshops I’ve had to do for class. I think back to that day and it keeps me going forward with everything, even when it feels like writing is the bane of my existence.”

“I’d like to hear about how those are going, maybe see what new things you’ve cooked up since you last shared your work with me… if you don’t mind, of course.” It was like him to be considerate. And, the soft velvet tone of his voice only accentuated this.

Even when your heart was trembling with nerves that it may actually fall out of your chest and onto the tan wooden floors, you told him you didn’t mind at all.

“Really?” His eyes lit up when he asked, and you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I’d love to catch up over lost time with you sometime. I’m free in a few hours actually… if that’s alright with you.”

He nodded, “It’s perfect. I’m done at four. Have you tried that one poke place on Anderson yet?”

You shook your head, “I’ve been meaning to, though!”

“Would you like to go there with me then?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” You paused, letting out a sheepish laugh before asking. “Today at four, right? I just need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

He laughed as well, allowing some of the dust on his nose to fall just a little.

“At four,” he said to reassure you. “So, I totally side-tracked you from whatever made you come in here but anyway—what can I help you with?”

“The usual, if you can remember.” You added, “It’s alright if you don’t—”

“—Two strawberry shortcakes, a three cookies, and a mocha log, right?”

“O-oh, yeah. Wow,” you said, a little dumbfounded. “You remembered.”

“Of course, I remember all the orders of my favorite customers,” he said this so casually, yet you could see the hint of flush becoming prominent beneath the flour.

You snorted, hoping to mask your own bout of embarrassment. “Now I find that a little hard to believe. But that’s cute.”

“It’s true! I promise, it was a pleasurable pastime to have you come in for my strawberry shortcakes. Even before I was actually any good at them.”

You remembered that, though this “rough” period hardly lasted a few weeks before he got the hang of the inner-workings inside the bakery. You still loved them to this day. Probably would’ve loved them even if they were terrible anyway.

“They were… decent.”

“Well, I appreciate you for enjoying my decent shortcakes, and I hope they’ve gotten better with time.”

You handed him the cash as soon as he handed you the bag of goods, and received the necessary change before walking toward the door.

“Well, I’ll let you know at four.”

“I can’t wait.”

Both you and your inner high school self smiled to yourselves, Me neither.

/

(When you returned, you found Ten’s attention fully on you, with eyebrows raised and an awaiting smile. You knew what he was waiting for, but you simply shoved his mocha log his way before grumbling and short and sweet—

“Shut up, Cupid.”

“Don’t you mean dem—you know what, I accept this. You’re welcome, by the way. Thank me at your wedding, okay?”

When you called Bangtan’s for delicious food and quick delivery, he’s sure that the last thing you expected was him. This isn’t to say that he’s some magical being with the ability to make anyone and everyone fall in love with him, because he is far from magical or being that lovable. It’s just him. He knows that he isn’t perfect. His friends tell him he is, but he doesn’t see it. He sees someone who does his best, even if it doesn’t feel like it; someone who cares with every ounce of his heart, even if can be a little too much at time; and right between the seams, someone who fears the unknown waters of love.

That’s how you two come together. The connection that entwines you both in this small, quaint tale of a delivery boy and a tenant that somehow spiraled out of the routine of just another come-and-go. Because love, for the both of you, is overrated and quite frightening. There’s a level of uncertainty that two self-sufficient people can’t seem to grapple with, especially with the unpredictability and irrationality of loving another person.

As someone who has only ever experienced love in occasional spurts, one of which took hold of him the greatest in his junior year of high school, Jimin remembers the sadness that came when he got stood up at Jack’s (only later to find out why he was stood up was over another boy from a different town who was better in ways that he simply couldn’t match up to). It felt surreal, disappointing indefinitely, and an epiphany struck him that he could’ve loved that girl as he trudged on home that day.

While you are someone who just doesn’t want to be in love. You don’t trust what it has to offer. In fact, you detest how blinding it is, how irrational it makes you, and how much power it entails to another person and their ability to hurt you. You experienced it twice before: first time through settling, and the second through misplaced trust. All before coming here for a fresh start, years before, but still there are still memories pressed deep within you, with reminders in the form of doubts and fears that perhaps forever is a trap and love is nothing more than a facade.

Still, equating that moment in his life to this current one is a far reach from being similar. After all, you’ve never stood him up. You never cheated on him. That was in the past. A set history that he has been trying not to let happen again.

Jimin shakes his head, trying to reassure himself that these moments with you are uncertain things, not set in stone.

When he gets closer to your corridor, he remembers how his knocks on your door with the food and a smile on his face, ready to greet you with the cheesy albeit mandatory, “Are you ready for Bangtan?” led to engaging you in some brief conversation at first. His consistency seemed to make it easier to open up. Falling in line with your range of who you can open up to being only a few-month-old tenant to the building for the school year. Your reason for the lack of desire in friendship: the notorious transfer student “Well, I’m going to pick up and leave in a few years anyway” mentality. Despite all initial doubts, he couldn’t shake his own urge to make getting to know you on these 20-minute deliveries his own personal goal. Especially after seeing you every Wednesday for more than a month straight.

Maybe you picked up on this inquisitive decision, and decided to humor him for the sake that he was your delivery person for a third of an hour. Or maybe you just couldn’t find it in yourself to reject that friendship that he was involuntarily offering. He still doesn’t know. And really? He doesn’t care either. What he does knows and what he has come to know is that with every step toward your door, with food in hand and his smile curled on his lips, Jimin can’t wait to see you today.

This is the first time you’ve called for him thrice in a week.

Usually you keep these interactions to at the very least once a week. Sometimes two if you’re feeling that generous. But it isn’t like he ever asked for your number. To him, that’s crossing a bridge like asking you out. And despite being somewhat confident that he isn’t the only one feeling something in these brief times together, he doesn’t want to push you and ruin such a good thing going on already. He knows he can’t keep blaming himself for what happened in the past, that you’re a completely different person to her, but he can’t stop the small bout of fear that wraps around his heart like a protective layer.

Apparently, that layer only seems to weaken when you answer the door with your smile in tow.

“Jimin! Long time no see, huh? I hope you haven’t missed me too much since we last saw each other.” You say this all with a smile before settling on his Bangtan hatless state with a raised eyebrow. “Is this a break in uniform protocol I see?”

He lets out a weak laugh. “Actually… you’re my last stop for the night. So, I figured the hat was unnecessary and still too  ugly. But please don’t tell Hobi. He’d probably kill me if he heard that I was shit talking his prized hat choice, again.”

You snort, nodding in recollection to the last time Jimin and Hoseok bickered over the stupid hat. Jin joined in and made the entire situation worse over the phone. But you agreed with Jimin that a giant llama didn’t exactly scream Bangtan and that was all he needed to get them to shut up about the llama even if it meant they wouldn’t stop pestering about you as soon as he returned to the shop.

“The hat has its… qualities. It has character too. It’s kinda cute in that way,” you comment with a small pout. He knows you’re just trying to tease him, but it still works.

The sight makes him groan in mild frustration. “Who’s side are you on? Now you’re starting to sound like Hobi and Jin.”

You shrug, shifting your weight to your foot closest to the doorframe. Somehow the hallway overhead lights illuminates your features in just the right way, revealing the glint of jovial mischief swimming in your eyes. “Perhaps they had some decent points… the llama is the attention grabber, after all.”

“Quit teasing,” he says with a scrunch of his nose. What was he worrying about again? He can’t seem to remember right now. It feels like those small anxieties become nothing more than a small voice in the background of his mind.

Only dissipating further when you giggle in response. Holding up your hands in surrender, you say, “You got me there. S’okay, Min. You’re the real attention grabber here.”

“Yeah?” He perks up involuntarily, earning another small chime of bells from you. He blinks. “What?”

“You’re just adorable.”

“How so?” He tilts his head to the side, unable to fight the grin curling on his face.

“You’re the first person I’ve met that actually wants to beat out a llama.” You watch as he shifts the bag of food you ordered to his other hand. “And the only delivery boy that doesn’t judge me for ordering out every week.”

“What can I say? You’re Bangtan’s best customer. Who am I to judge?”

“Good, because my cooking ineptitude needs to benefit me somehow.” When he laughs, you crack a smile and step aside. “Come in won’t you?”

He slowly stops laughing and blinks. He suddenly becomes aware of how new this all is for him and you from the apparent flush tinging your cheeks. “Is that alright?”

“I—I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t,” you try to tell him nonchalantly, but he can’t even pretend that he didn’t see you just stumble over one of your shoes just now. He’s about to ask you if you’re alright, but you beat him with another question. “You said this was your last stop for the night, right? Would you like to stay for dinner?”

He manages a nod to your first question, only stopping when he hears the second one faintly to the loud beating in his chest. This is definitely new territory. It’s so new that he isn’t even sure how to comprehend his next course of action, because without a second thought, he’s telling you ‘okay,’ and letting you lead him inside toward the kitchen.

Jimin has never seen the inside of your apartment before. Save for the view from the doorway, but what greets him at his usual vantage point is a small tile floor to store your shoes, a side table leaned against the adjacent wall, and a hallway that leads to the kitchen, living room, and dining room hybrid area. The walls are all the standard white expected from the university apartments, littered with a few framed photos of you and who can assume are your family and friends from your hometown.

You’re neat, too. Your shoes are lined altogether in rows by the doorway, the keys on the doorside table are contained in a ceramic bowl with a blue stripe going all around it, and even your living area is in order without too many books crowding the far left corner of the black two-row shelf. Despite how crowded with schoolwork the coffee table is, it isn’t scattered beside your laptop. They’re simply stacked into one pile with your pens and pencils for note-taking.

“It’s a little messy,” you say with a sheepish exhale. “Sorry about that.”

He looks at you incredulously. Because this a far cry from messy. “If you ever want to see messy, you should see my place. I’m kinda jealous. I have two other pigs for roommates, so living alone must be nice.”

The counter that leads into the kitchen is sparse if not for the bananas and oranges tucked at the corner of it. There are stools positioned in front, two of them beckoning you two forth, so he sets the food there just as you direct him to. He also takes a seat, watching as you go to your fridge in search of beverages.

Glancing at him from the open doors, you ask, “Bottled water’s good, right? Or, well, I have Coke too.”

He nods, “Coke’s good.” He immediately stands and goes to help you when he realizes that you aren’t a two-trip person. Your attempt to make it with bottled water in hand, the liter of soda, and a cup could lead to disaster, so he makes use of his nerves by pouring his own soda and laughing at you.

“I could’ve made it! I was only sort of tipping.” It’s a weak defense, but he can see your embarrassment and he simply shakes his head.

“Sure, if you say so. I don’t mind helping anyway. I’m equipped for kitchen aid, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say as you open the water. “But you do enough for me already. I wanted this to be a thank you.”

“I’m just doing my job,” he says, flushing once again. He uses the excuse to put away the soda to avoid letting you see his face, but he can’t seem to stop staring at the sight before him. “Y/N, is your fridge always this empty?”

“Er, maybe?” When he glances at you, he can see you already standing and going over to close the door. “I just haven’t gone to get groceries in a while.”

“A long while, apparently.” He looks at the closed door and back at you with raised eyebrows. “You should take care of yourself too…”

“I—I know. It’s been a busy couple of week with school and work picking up.” He gets it. The end of the quarter is always the hardest. With only ten weeks of classes, the important stuff builds up and gets overwhelming if you let the workload wash over you. And it’s even more harrowing knowing how hardworking you are with your assignments and projects, because you don’t half-ass any of it, not even when your body craves rest and nourishment, you simply work your way around those things with caffeine and take-out.

He tuts you still. Shaking his head when he remembers the bareness of the shelves and replies, “Well, it’s almost over, and I know you got through those two research papers already. No excuses this time.”

Despite the roll of your eyes, which he knows is nothing more than your way of expressing how right he is, you tell him you will. “Thank you,” you also say as you two make your way back to the seats.

“It’s really not a problem,” he reassures you, taking the initiative to take the extra paper plates out of the bag. You ordered your usual: the House Special chow mein and a side of still fresh sweet and sour pork with the sauce on the side. But he realizes that the amount is a size larger than your normal when you spoon enough noodles on your plate and his own. His eyes narrow slightly and he asks, “You planned this huh?”

Jimin tells you he doesn’t mind that you did this for him at all. Actually he’s glad you did.

“Why?” you ask him, slurping the noodles as he begins to talk.

“I mean I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. It’s kind of been the highlight of my shifts, well, of my Wednesday shifts. But still, it’s nice. I like this. I like you...”

You stop to wipe your mouth and look at him with wide eyes. It seems he has finally (well, sort of) addressed the giant elephant in the room.

“You do? I mean you like me?”

Putting his fork down, he nods. He decides that he should just be honest. If he really wants to know if you feel the same way, then he has to take a risk and just tell you how he feels first.

“I mean I thought I was pretty obvious about it…” he points out shyly. “It’s not every shift that I talk to just anyone the way I can with you. I don’t know if I’ve been reading into things, but I just feel like I can connect with you. You have this quality that I can’t stop thinking of. It’s nice. And, if you feel the same, that I’m not the only one feeling this way, then I’d like to see where this goes. Not have sex or anything but just talking, getting to know one another more, and maybe going out on an actual date… or something.”

He didn’t realize how much you were staring until he found his eyes wandering right back to yours. He sees relief, happiness, and… tenderness. It relieves him even when you don’t respond right away.

“I really don’t want to be that person who just says ‘same here!’ or ‘me too!’ but that’s how I feel, too. I dunno. I didn’t expect to get to know you like this or at all, really. No hard feelings. You know how my mindset was since coming here.”

“Was?” When you look away, he looks at the bananas and oranges.

From the corner of his eye, he can see you nod with a small smile. “Yeah, was. You kinda fucked up that ‘I’m not gonna get close to anyone’ thing. I mean ‘close’ close. Like this. I didn’t intend for this to happen. But it did. And as much as I’ve said that I wouldn’t be okay with it, I am. I mean I’m scared shitless of what might happen… but I’m willing to see what will happen this time. With you. If… that’s alright. I mean you just said you’d go out with me and all that, but even I’m still not sure of anything, really.”

There’s a long pause before you two meet eyes and laughter fills the still air.

“God,” you say with a hard exhale. “When did we become such shy little shits like this?”

He shakes his head, feeling the smile the laughter has elicited lingering on his lips. Even with all the uncertainty in the air, he still feels lighter in the chest. “I have no clue. I guess I fucked up your ‘no attachments’ thing, huh?”

“And I fucked up your ‘no relationships’ thing, right?”

“I mean I don’t mind. Whatever this is feels right. Whatever it becomes, I think it’ll be right too.”

Your lips twitch into a small smile, and he receives a nod in response. “I think so too, Jimin. I like it. I like you, by the way.”

“I know. Well, I had a feeling,” he admits a little sheepishly. “I mean I thought it was safe to assume that you didn’t treat just anyone the way you’ve treated me lately.”

“You’re right, this isn’t. I mean maybe at first but vibing with you over dance and music changed a lot of things. At some point, you weren’t delivery boy anymore, and at that point, I didn’t want you to be just that either.”

“I… I’m glad. Thank you.”

“For what?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“For humoring me, I guess. Letting me get to know you. And for this.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you somehow. And yet here you are thanking me for thanking you.”  

There’s another opportunity for the two of you to laugh until the aroma of the House Special reminds you both to eat once again. It proceeds without silence, though you both nod at one another like profusely thanking one another is some kind of commonplace exchange for you two.

More conversation and laughter seem to waft the little island as the two of you find more things to talk about until the clock strikes well past midnight. It isn’t like either of you want to move from your spots, but Jimin refuses to let your food go soggy now that a substantial amount has passed and with a decent amount of leftovers even from both of your attempts to eat it all. You take care of his cup by putting it in the sink, watching as he carefully places the bag onto one of the shelves.

With you leaning there behind him, he can’t help but turn as the door shuts and look back. He wonders if he should ask you out now or wait until the next time he sees you. Or, he considers the fact that he should ask for your number now and ask you out tomorrow. Or do both.

“Maybe you should stay over tonight.”

He blinks, thoughts now going silent as he looks at your visage. “What?”

“I mean it’s pretty late and I don’t want anything to happen to you if you’re driving… and I… I don’t really know. I’m kind of going by impulse right now. We don’t have to do anything but sleep and talk, too. I just don’t really want this to be over yet, if that makes sense.”

“I’ve never done this before, but there’s a first for everything right?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, why not?” he says, smiling.

“Then you can tell me what you were thinking so hard about just now.” Before he can ask about a very important issue, you add, “And don’t worry about a toothbrush, I definitely have extras.” 

(What happens after is simple. The two of you talk until the peak of dawn arrives, where limbs become entangled and breathing syncs, and Jimin awakes to you beside him, looking adorable with strands of loose hair clinging to the sides of your face and mouth ajar with soft breathes heaving your chest up and down. He really doesn’t know what will happen today or the day after and certainly not in a few weeks from now, but he likes the idea of the present, of the now you’re both in. And, he can’t wait to see what that will bring. Especially now that he has your number and a yes to that future date.

/

I can’t sleep, you tell him.

Me neither, he replies. I want to see you.

You laugh, you have seen me.

You can imagine him shaking his head, maybe a pout forming on his lips you’ve etched so perfectly into your mind.

Pictures don’t count. I want to “see” see you…

I know, you sigh aloud. Me too.

Soon, he promises. I’ll get enough money to see you.

Yeah, one day.

/

It’s been like this for over a year now.

You can hear his voice, see his face, even talk to him on the phone or through video chat. It’s simple. It’s easy. But you’ve never seen him face to face, felt his caress on your cheek, or even went out on a proper date. When his mother says you’re miles away, that much is true, by approximately five thousand miles. He lives a literal ocean away, and yet something as simple as an airplane ride to go see you or vice versa feels virtually impossible in a world where money still plays as a huge deterrent for soulmates trying to meet one another for the very first fucking time.

You hate it. You hate wishing he was here. You hate that the barrier isn’t just distance, sometimes it’s even language. You hate that he feels like he needs to learn an entirely new language just for you. Even when he says he doesn’t mind, that working day and night while going to school just to see you is worth every paycheck, you can’t help but hate that the universe has let you find one another at the worst of times.

Just like him, you’re amidst school, burrowed beneath a thesis for a masters while still trying to stay afloat. Student loans are no joke. Neither are airline tickets. Not to mention rent and the cost-of-living itself. You envy everyone else who gets to see him, to hear him with their own ears, and to feel him through embraces without a second thought. They’re privy to these things, while you are, unfortunately, not. And you don’t know why the universe chose you for him and him for you. You don’t know why the universe decided that hearing his voice would be a match made from the heavens, literally forged there, would perfect for you, complete you like you’ve learned. You just don’t understand.

What’s wrong? He asks you this suddenly, alarmed by the sudden influx of thoughts that must be bombarding him at the back of his mind among his own artillery. But these ones are in your voice, signalling a silent call for help that you find hard to utter when you need it most.

You don’t speak, finding words harder to come by, because how is it possible to miss someone so badly without having ever met them in real life?

We’ll see each other soon, I promise. 

There’s no rush, you always tell him. This time is no different. You don’t like that he’s working so hard to see you, straining himself when he has to juggle midterms and finals like you are. You understand that this is a circumstance that you both must take your time with, because life is life. It doesn’t always play out the way you want it to.

But wouldn’t seeing each other on the twenty-second of June be a nice way to kick off summer? This is definitely a thought you’ve pondered and hoped for. You both officially started talking in summer, some time after coming to grips with the soulmate business in November, but it’s a dream… right? He doesn’t trail off like he usually does, and you don’t feel any hint of a lighthearted joke either.

You have to pause, immediately reaching for your phone to dial his number despite the 16-hour time difference. It’s 1:30 PM where you are, and 5:30 AM for him, while you’re simply ending your short day, he is beginning his longer one.

“You’re joking, right?” you ask as soon as the ringing stops. “You have to be joking. You had to help your mom with utility bills two weeks ago. Right?”  

“Good morning to you too,” he replies, punctuating the greeting with a chuckle. His voice is still rough from residual fatigue, but it brings a small, faint smile to your lips nonetheless. Your heart just hurts to think that you won’t hear that same voice face to face quite yet. You would playfully whine if only you weren’t feeling the faint traces of disappointment creeping up on you. If he is joking, then you think it would be best to get off the phone right now.

But he stops you.

“I’m not joking though. My mom actually paid me back, made my friends give me the money for the tickets, and well, I’m coming to see you on the 22nd of June for two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” you murmur under your breath. What he’s saying is still processing in your brain. The very reality becoming potent with every affirmation he supplements to you.

“Hang on, okay? I’ll be there in less than two months. Will you be able to take some time off work for that long? I know this is kind of last minute, but I really wanted to surprise you somehow because I—I know this has gotten rougher—”

“—i-it’s no problem. I can get the time off,” you reassure him with a smile you’re sure he’s trying to picture right now. “Thank you, Guk.”

“Of course, I lo—” He coughs before he can finish, and when you ask him if he’s alright, he replies, “I can’t wait until June.”

You laugh, agreeing and semi-knowing what he truly meant to say.

/

It’s June 22nd. At exactly 7 AM.

The small peak of canary is rising behind the floating white wisps of clouds, getting wider and bigger as minutes countdown to the half-hour mark. You don’t expect to see Jungkook for another hour, but he’s gone quiet on his end of your shared connection, probably asleep or even too groggy to say anything at all. A part of you has always wondered what would happen when you two would meet—for example, what would you two do when you first see each other, what would either of you say, and what the hell would happen to this connection of yours?

It suddenly strikes you that it might fade into existence now that you and Jungkook are finally meeting, and that makes you bittersweet for many reasons. Perhaps neither of you will ever be able to share those hidden moments again, the ones where you need him to calm you after a stressful day, where the thoughts and pressure of your current living situation are too much to bear, or the ones where he just needs to hear your reassurance that he’s doing the right thing in school or the telling him a joke when he’s been studying too hard. You suddenly remember the first time you both spoke to one another and opened up to this idea of sharing thoughts with another person. It felt so foreign and so alleviating to hear someone have struggles like yours, to know that you weren’t alone even when you knew you weren’t, it was just nice to have that reassurance without necessarily having to ask for it. And—!

“You think too much, you know that right?”

That voice brings you back to reality. The faint grogginess, the roughness etched within the amused question. You know his voice better than your own sometimes.

You look up to see him, to finally look into his warm, brown eyes, and feel the swell of happiness bloom within your chest.

When you say his name, he doesn’t say a word. He washes his gaze over you in your short and loose top form and stops right at your eyes. His suitcase and his dufflebag are left forgotten a couple of meters away as he steps forward and closes the small gap between you and him in the small waiting area. His arms wrap around you like he promised you once before, and they’re warm and secure around you. He smells like bergamot and fresh laundry, reminding you of a home you’ve been waiting for. You’re at one. You feel at peace.

“I didn’t get to tell you this on the phone because I wanted to say this right now,” he murmurs into your hair. You ask him what despite knowing, because you already felt it that night. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

(After that small exchange, you both decide to grab some brunch at one of the cafés in downtown, and you tell him if you had known he touched down already and got through check-in, you would’ve been waiting there by the gate.

He simply takes your hand in his in response.

“Seeing you and being able to do this is enough for me.”

You grin and breathe a laugh, “Well, at least do that for me when I come down in December, okay?”

“Okay… wait, what?”

“You’ll see in December.”

I can’t wait already, he tells you.

Hockey has been known as for being violent, even volatile at times, with nothing to gloss over and make pretty. Even the skating couldn’t be saved—its aggressive, almost feral nature, especially between the competitors all too wince-inducting and jaw-dropping because how was any of it legal?

The sport itself immediately conjures up an image that a hockey player is someone hulking, giant and absolutely terrifying, without an ounce of self-control that could easily unleash a bout of anger so great it’s like watching a real life Incredible Hulk.

As expected, this was what everyone saw, even with Jungkook playing on the field, that fate Sunday afternoon: they caught him in all his glory, a natural on the ice without so much as a falter after his first round on the ice, and when they looked at his doe-like eyes in search of the innocence and curiosity that often sat on the hickory hues, they saw the fire burning in his eyes in its stead. It was different, almost frightening to see for anyone who wasn’t playing alongside him on the ice. To new viewers, he looked like a completely different person.

So, to say the very least, this made him a very, very, very lonely child without too many playmates besides his own teammates, and even then they were spread across the districts in the city, too far and too busy with their own lives and practicing making up a good portion of their schedules like his own.

It made for many lonely afternoons after homework was finished and only Joohyuk to bug when opportunity arose. Jungkook just wished for one friend, one person to understand him better than his family, someone.

Perhaps Fate heard his plea, because just as soon as he wished for someone to come into his life, you appeared.

Like a scene taken out of those ridiculous romantic comedies, you moved to the empty house next door, welcoming him with a smile so warm and inviting, he was tempted to befriend you on the spot but the thought that you might actually denounce him once you caught wind of all the horror stories going around about him, all he wanted to do was keep away. Hope, as he had grown to see it, was a thing for suckers or the non-monsters that everyone didn’t equate to the Hulk.

Of course, it was no surprise to anyone besides Jungkook that someone saw past the presumptions. As a newcomer and his next door neighbor, you saw sides to him that others did not. The sorts of things that made him more human like rollerblading in the yard and nearly toppling over into the bushes, playing catch with his older brother despite the immense difference in strengths and the myriad of times that he had to shyly ask you to toss the ball over from your side of the fence when you shrieked at nearly getting pummeled by the flyaways, and growing frustrations when life was too hard for an adolescent kid because how does one function without proper friends?

He was lonely and sad, in need of companionship, and after the two weeks of rejecting the suggestions made by his brother to just befriend you, their curious, little neighbor, you took matters into your own hands (with the help of Joohyuk, of course).

Hopping over the large brown fence with ease as soon as you saw a chance, you nearly cause him to dive headlong into the netting of the hockey goal, eliciting laughter from his older brother as he came over to you to give you a hand from the stony ledge that carried the hedge-less dirt. You introduced yourself to Jungkook, unwilling to take rejection for an answer because there was no way that this kid who spent so much of his time alone during school couldn’t some form of companionship. You knew it. He knew it. And the culmination of seeing you plop into his yard with an outstretched hand and a toothless grin (which in your defense was still a pretty damn cute sight to see you with your two front teeth), with the prospect of friendship, of understand, of a courageousness that he sometimes wished he had— after all, you’re the one who took the leap of faith and prompted him to follow.

Over the next decade comes adventures, memories that you’ve both held so tightly in your hearts that it’s no wonder that at some point a bridge was crossed and the friendship that so closely entwined you together became a relationship that everyone saw coming. You’ve support him in his hockey endeavors from the gnarly violets riddling his body to the very often black eyes, all because it makes him happy and gives him a space of belonging. It’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

And, to your (and his) relief, adolescence does get better.

/

It has become no surprise that everyone else you’ve gone to school with has gotten over their fears, giving Jungkook congratulatory handshakes when they see you two traipsing down the hallway together. It’s better. When you glance over at him and catch his quiet smile, your heart can’t help but swell because he is pumped for this game, spending extra hours at practice to get his backhand for the moment he can finally end Mingyu’s winning streak. They’ve been friends for ages, but their rivalry runs deep.

To see it come to head like this is a work of miracles, and you only bear one thought in mind as he has you switch his home jersey for the away one.

“Be careful.”

He shrugs on the jersey over the heavy padding, flashing you a sunny grin too breathtaking to maintain the creases embedded on your forehead.

“Always,” he says before pressing his lips to your forehead.

You don’t let him escape so easily, encircling his waist with your arms and giving him a tight squeeze. He still has a few moments, and like every game, he likes to spend those spare ones with you. Switch jerseys, stay with you, go out on the ice. This is his routine. His lucky routine. His favorite routine. And, naturally, your favorite as well.

Unfortunately, the heavy weight in the pit of your stomach refuses to cease. It only seems to grow as the seconds tick down.

You don’t want your unhappiness to show, but knowing each other for a decade isn’t just you reading him when he tries to hide an injury, it also means he knows when there’s something wrong. His eyebrows knit together and he immediately asks what’s wrong as soon as you look up at him.

You shake your head, wanting to will away the ill thoughts. “It’s nothing.”

He raises a brow.

“Really, don’t worry. Just be careful,” your bottom lip pouts a little. “Please.”

“Careful won’t help me win, you know,” he teases lightly. Like your nature to worry, something you’ve developed since befriending and loving him, he is prone to ease those anxieties away. He likes to soothe them away with laughter, smiles work too but his favorite pastime is watching when your throw your head back and release spurts of giggles just because of him.

You say his nickname halfheartedly, turning away from his eyes just to give him another squeeze.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, grunting a ‘go away’ when footsteps approach. His large, firm hands leave your back to find purchase on your shoulders.

This time you can’t escape to his chest, but there’s some comfort in seeing his hickory eyes. They bore into yours with warmth, its assurance trying to rid away the dark thoughts that have bothered you since finding out he had to stop by the hospital after a practice. Jungkook’s been trying to convince you that it’s nothing, but a part of you still finds it too significant to believe him. But looking at him like this, after seeing the adrenaline already waiting to pump inside him and the peeks of ember floating across his eyes, it’s hard not to believe that it’s going to be okay.

“I promise everything’ll be okay, alright? I’m okay. Tonight will be okay. I’ll play, you’ll cheer, we’ll celebrate with kisses and I’ll take you out.”

You snort, “Shouldn’t I take you out?”

“Are you offering?” he asks with the corners of his lips twitching. You’re trying not to smile, but it’s too damn hard when he looks at you like this.

“Offering?” you scoff, falling into his clutches. “I’m telling you, Jeon. I’ll take you out when you win.”

He replies singsong, “Since you said so.”

You laugh in response, placing your hands on top of his.

Jaehyun’s back again, signaling Jungkook’s need for departure. You flash the ash blond a small smile before giving Jungkook’s hands one final squeeze. Before he leaves you for the locker room, you make sure to ask if he’s sure he’s okay.

He nods with a smile for good measure.

You kiss him before you’re off to your seat in front of rink.

(Him and Jaehyun watch as you depart.

Jaehyun raises a brow at him and asks, “She still doesn’t know, huh?”

Jungkook shakes his head, dismissing the subject with a simple answer: “I’ll be fine.”

His lips tingle but his heart screams at him with guilt, but he’s sure that the game won’t do anything worse than practice already has.)

/

The stands are filled with onlookers from both schools cheering on their favorite players in flurries of scarlet and azure banners, with hushed murmurs of gossip and eyes of anticipation. You’re almost certain that this turn-out is far larger than last season’s game when the lineup was exactly as it is now. There’s some of the local news cameras propped at the team entrances, while it appears that some of the reporters have already gone into the locker rooms for the pre-game interview.

A normal game of high school league hockey lasts an hour and a half, sometimes even as long as two if there’s overtime. And with a team like Jungkook’s, there’s almost always a guarantee for overtime where playing Mingyu is concerned.

Among the throng of conversations surrounding you, the hottest topic of them all is the showdown between Jeon Jungkook and Kim Mingyu. Both of which are individuals with skills in hockey unparalleled to many of those in their junior league and with opportunities laid out on the line for this sole game. Their rivalry is nothing more than friendly, but a part of you feels the twist of nerves when you see how closely everyone is going to be watching them.

Jungkook has never thought twice about the crowd, what matters the most when he plays is playing, knowing that he is putting in his all and coming out with a win, but you know better. The pressure is insane. He doesn’t tell you often, but the immensity of attention he can receive in a game can tear him up and leave him with nerves bundled so tightly you would’ve thought he was back to eight-year-old him when he was just getting to know you. 

The only thing you can truly offer him right now are loud shouts of encouragement alongside the crowd. You stand and cup your hands around your mouth to call his name as soon as he passes your side to enter the rink. He glances over with a tight-lipped smile in your direction, only giving you a small wave before Jaehyun’s ushering him forward.

It’s not odd, but your eyebrows furrow when you see him wince at the sudden blare of an air horn pierces the air and reverberates around the arena like a signal to start. Of course, the teams must shake hands and wish one another luck in the most cordial way possible, but where rivalries stand, it’s almost hard to imagine anyone else on Mingyu’s team acting right aside from him.

The moment comes and goes, and it isn’t long until the buzzer sounds and the game begins.

The opposing team has the puck first. They lobby it to and fro as they skid toward the goal. It’s far too easy, but a goal nonetheless. And as soon as there’s a jeering of sneers and ridicule dropping out onto the rigid ground, Jungkook’s ready and willing to give his all. You know that. His dad knows that. Everyone knows that. And truthfully,  it frightens you how easily he loses himself in these games.

He is quick, lithe, and almost hard to see if you even so much as blink. Sometimes he skates circles around Jimin for shits and giggles, but when he’s in this tier of focus, it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy that drinks banana milk like water when he plays League of Legends in his free time. Most of all, there’s a burn in his eyes that could make anyone cower away.

There is no vehemence or malice in him, but in fact, only passion and determination that transcends normalcy. You’ve met plenty of passionate people in your life, even known yourself to be quite a passionate person, but when Jungkook enters that plane, he loses his usual joviality, taking on a persona that one could classify as absolutely ruthless. One might consider him to be like who he once was back in third grade, though no one dares to bring up those days lest it’s in congratulations.

Without fail, he turns the tides of the one-point lead and begins to rack up points for your school. The first twenty minutes fly by with your school leading by five points, and half of the second already obtaining another five on top of that.

Twenty to fifteen, the scoreboard reads right before the zero transitions into a one and Jungkook’s skating to his position for defense.

It seems there’s nothing stopping him right now. Not even the loom of an injury that leaves his teammates, his coach, and his father at the edge of their seats as they see him pirouette into one of the opposing team members.

At the bottom left corner from where you’re seated, a position that feels too close for your liking when you can see him so closely and too far with the plexiglass keeping the action inside the rink, you flinch as if you’re taking the brunt of the impact instead as the collision reverberates through your ears among the hullabaloo shrouding you.

The opponent is one of Mingyu’s team members, Dino, they call him is apparently one of the youngest on the team with a particularly solid build that they consider as lethal as a T-Rex (Jungkook’s words, not yours.), and taking any sort of blow from him is a miracle in itself, considering even Mingyu has trouble with him during practice.  

Jungkook makes it out, however, relatively unscatched.

(This is something relatively uncharacteristic for Pledis High, what with the ratio of volatile players on the team much to everyone else’s dismay. There’s a roaring faction of clean players like Mingyu and his pals, Dino, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo, and dirty ones that only want to win at all costs. And that small altercation with Dino is more than enough to elicit an uproar or even retaliation.)

Until a runaway body comes barreling into him.

/

“What were you thinking, Jungkook?!”

“C’mon, Ji—”

“—No! Don’t you fucking ‘c’mon Jin’ me, you little shit! I put you in because you said the doctor gave you clearance, and here you are picking a fight with that other punk. Don’t you dare pull that shit again or I swear to God I will bench you for the entire season, got it?”

The protest in Jungkook’s throat is caught, visibly torn between two things you aren’t all that well aware of, but whatever the case is, you step into the nurse’s office and rush to Jungkook’s side. Your first three words are ones you’ve offered in place of a regular greeting from all the times he’s returned to you in a worse shape than the last—”Are you okay?”

Your eyebrows are furrowed together as you look to him then to Jin, “Should I take you to the hospital? Should I take him to the hospital?”

“No, don’t! This is nothing, I swear.”

Jin glares at him for a moment before his hickory hues soften upon meeting your concerned ones. He nods.

“Please take him. Tell his parents what happened, alright? And make sure he stays awake,” He claps a hand on your shoulder with a small smile, both for reassurance, before sending Jungkook a final glare and exiting back into the rink, where the game continues.

“Don’t, this is nothing,” he wheezes. He gives a shudder that makes your stomach drop once more.It pisses you off.

“Like fucking hell I’m believing you,” you spit at him. You don’t know what is more appalling. The fact that he doesn’t want you to tag along or the fact that he, Jeon Jungkook, was ready to propel himself off the wall and plow right into the asshole who knocked him right into the wall with a resounding thump that still plays over in your mind.

Your gaze only softens at seeing the dark splotches of purple prominent against his cheekbones.

“Of course, I’m taking you,” you tell him, flashing him a small smile.

“I’ll be back on the ice before you know it—” he pauses, wincing hard. His eyes clamp shut right as his jaw clenched, and the only response you receive is a sharp exhale that dissuades you from leaving this alone. He doesn’t even bother fighting you when you coax him up and toward your car. 

The drive to the hospital is stiff with silence, but it’s gets even worse when you take him back home.

At the hospital, your worst thoughts are confirmed. From Jin’s warning to his previous visit to the hospital, you actually knew something was wrong. You felt it the moment you woke up today. Every part of you was screaming against Jungkook playing, and despite your best efforts, they were fruitless. And for every reason anyone would have when it comes to someone they love acting stupid and putting their themselves in danger, you are incontestably furious.

His parents aren’t home, but you make a mental note of letting them know what happened whenever they get back. It won’t be uncommon to see you there in the morning or even at the ass-crack of dawn, but that’s just a given of having your neighbor also be your son’s best friend. Regardless if they were there, you still wouldn’t show an ounce of mercy to Jungkook right now.

“Concussion, really Jungkook?” you ask after tossing his hockey gear to one of the corners of the room. It makes a soft sound, but you still feel a pang of guilt when you see him flinch from the corner of your eye.

You see him plop onto his bed, sitting up against the headboard before exhaling a brief, bitter laugh. “Well, you heard the doctor, didn’t you?”

“What the actual fuck? Why—why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, fueling on your irritability, “I’ve had wounds before, enough scars that you’ve seen. What’s the big deal about this one? It’s nothing.”

You scoff, “You must be shitting me right now. Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing. We’re here in my room for absolutely nothing. If anything, I should be back at the rink, still playing. The doctor basically gave me clearance anyway.”

“This isn’t nothing, Jungkook. The doctor mentioned brain damage if you continued playing! Or is that taking effect now?”

“Y/N, I got treatment. We’re home now. I know you’re not taking me back. Are you really that upset that I didn’t tell you about it?”

“Of course, you lied to me. You told me everything was fine. Everything is not fine. You have a concussion and for some fucking reason despite knowing all of that stuff about it already, you wanted to pick a fight with Asshole Number Two.”

“It’s nothing!”

“It’s not!” You huff with a small shake of your head, already feeling your heart thumping erratically, “Why do you insist on convincing me otherwise?”

He exhales just as hard, a lot more carefully considering the state of his head at least before responding, “What good could it have done for either us? You would’ve been worried about me. I would’ve been worried about you. And the last thing on my mind would be playing the actual game, winning Champs, beating Gyu… all that. Would me telling you be worth all that fuss?”

There have been days where you feared having this conversation. It’s not as simple “it’s me or it’s hockey,” though that in itself is complicated already. No, this has been a topic you’ve tried answering yourself time and time again.

Jungkook’s life has always revolved around hockey. He lives it, breathes it. It’s something that he’s grown with, and his promise in the sport is phenomenal. He does have a future in it. But what scares you the most isn’t that he’ll drop you for hockey, because something deep down tells you that he’ll always choose both. Rather what scares you is what hockey does to him.

He changes. He becomes someone different. And right now shows that more than ever.

It’s quiet for a moment before you ask him a question that weighs on your mind. You’ve always guessed the answer, but you decide it’s time to hear it from Asshole Number One himself.

“Is your health really that insignificant compared to hockey?”

He gets quiet this time. His own frustrations melting off his visage as quickly as it had come. With you, everything else, even the world, stops being so loud. His own voice seems to shut up, because it knows you’re right. You just want him to be happy and healthy even after all of that. You don’t care if that means a stop to hockey or if it means having to take care of him yourself, you’ll do it. It infuriates you that the last person he thinks of is himself sometimes, especially in these moments, but if you have to be that person—as pissed as you are—you’ll do it.

The only response he offers you is a small, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Instead of leaving like you know he expects because you are still angry with him, you take a seat on his swivel chair before you tell him to hit the showers, and even when he returns, still half-expecting you to leave, you’re there at his desk to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, meeting Jeongguk’s eyes to find them steady as ever. The hint of nerves coated the words in the faintest way so much so that had you not known him as well as you did you would’ve missed it. It didn’t mask the abruptness though, nor did it stop you from propping yourself upward on the couch in interest.

Here you were probably thinking that tonight was going to be a normal night in, possibly spent with movies, take-out, and the second meaning of “Netflix and chill,” which was expected with him, but tonight was different. Namjoon told him that the element of surprise was always one way to make you happy, and for reasons that Jeongguk could only somewhat comprehend, he wanted to see you.

“This is a first,” you commented with a Cheshire-like smile.

His cheeks burned and he licked his bottom lip nervously in response

You seemed to noticed then that he was dressed in dark denim jeans, a white T-shirt (surprise, surprise), and one of his many black bomber jackets that always draped over you like a blanket and seemed to fit him like a glove. Although the attire is nothing new to his usual outerwear, there was no doubt that the arrangement of his chestnut-colored locks styled away from his forehead would catch your eye. And it had the smile curving on your face deepening at the realization that this was his intention upon coming over all along.

“Wasn’t this an agreement for companionship? Can’t I ask you out?” he said without defense, rather with a playfulness that told you he really wasn’t trying to explain himself. More so out of embarrassment, really, but it was no surprise. This was Jeon Jeongguk after all.

The casualness that has become your relationship was refreshing, relaxing even. Next to having someone to relieve stress with, you now had someone to hit up whenever you decided to go out or if you wanted to try a new restaurant in town. No longer having to solo it out when your girlfriends brought their significant others and vice versa for him. When it was just you two trying new places or just grabbing bites to eat, it was mostly you initiating the outings, what with his somewhat reserved nature creating a wall in the beginning and establishing a shy distance, he felt this desire to begin to doing the same thing. .

When you didn’t respond right away, his fingers fidgeted with the hair carefully. His own bottom lip already caught between his teeth. Had you been feeling extra playful you would’ve prolonged this, but he could see that your own curiosity wanted to be satisfied.

You stood up to grab your purse and a coat, quirking a brow at him and asking, “And where did you have in mind, Jeon?”

/

The violet and scarlet neon lights blinked once, then twice as soon as you both arrived. He weaved through the walkway with you curled into his side in ease. By then, the bright white pics were struck down by the bowling ball before the sequence rolled again. Jeongguk watched with inner glee your amazement at the sign before looking away to open the door for you.

“So, bowling huh?” you nodded appreciatively. He hummed in response, trying not to laugh when your nose scrunched at the overhead heater.

After the abrupt gust of warm blew at you both from above, he quickly shut the door and led you both toward the kiosk for a lane and shoe rentals. You both paid and settled at the fifth lane, even ordering some pizza and snacks for the time being. It was nice.

“You never told me bowled,” you commented after watching his strike. His form and his stance were precise, professional-looking even. Your surprise was sort of expected, Jeongguk never really mentioned this hobby of his besides once in passing. It didn’t come up often, so he didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He did expect Namjoon to tell you since the older man was the matchmaker to all of this.

He shrugged, exhaling a sheepish laugh, “Joon didn’t tell you? It’s sort of a—well, it’s not some family trade secret or anything, but bowling does run in the family. I do it as a hobby though.”

“The hobby, I vaguely remember,” you said, surprising him. Through the slew of text messages, phone calls, and videochat calls, he didn’t expect you to remember it, especially when he was as shy as he was back then. He almost wanted to choke his past self for being so awkward and stiff when you were visibly trying to get him to open up. “I just didn’t expect you to be that good at it.”

He laughed again, waving you off. “I can go easy on you. It’s not like I’m that good.”

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the overhead screen with both of your scored in full display. He already scored a full twenty points to your measly seven.

“Don’t B.S. me, Jeon. This is gonna be a sad outcome for me.”

“Like I said, I can take it down a notch—!”

You gave a resigned sigh, stretching your arms and preparing for your turn, “No, no. This is fine, I promise. I’ll take the loss and still try anyway.”

Staying true to your word, Jeongguk saw you put in a great of effort. In turn, he got to see you in your competitive glory. It was adorable. The way you would try to line your aim up with the pins, the small pouts you gave when the ball didn’t go in the direction you wanted, and seeing the absolute joy in your face when you obtained a two full strikes. What came after that took the entire cake of the night, because you rushed into his arms and he pulled you into firm, spinning hug.

The incandescent lights shone over you in the softest way, etching your visage deep into his memory. He could feel the happiness you extruded. Its very warmth eliciting his own bout of joviality.

Just as quickly as the night came, it ended, but he was greeted with revelations at the end of it.

/

“How come you didn’t tell me you were a bowling prodigy?” you asked, again curling back into his side as you both trekked back to your apartment. “And why no bowling trips? That was fun!”

“Ah, it’s not something worth mentioning, y’know,” he answered, feeling sheepish again. Truthfully, Jeongguk hadn’t taken too many people to this place. Mostly out of his own comfort. To him, this was his happy place. Sometimes he went there by himself just to let off some steam if the gym just wasn’t cutting for him.

Being one of the youngest in his friend group and going through the motions of school made it a little difficult on him. However, meeting you helped a lot, and he didn’t actually go to the bowling alley as much as before. Namjoon knew that. It was honestly part of the reason why the older man decided to set him up with you.

You scoffed at him, “Shut up, it’s so worth mentioning. But I mean if it’s something you do in your free time then I get it. Sometimes it’s better to keep that kind of fun to yourself, hm?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided you could take me with you.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Me too. It’s funny my friends always said something about me bringing someone that wasn’t them to a bowling alley.”

The moment you two passed by the only brightly lit object in the vicinity of closed shops about two blocks from your place, your eyes lit up. You pointed at the claw machine in interest and took him along with you. “Oh, Guk! Have you tried this before?”

Inside he caught sight of a plushie in the form of a dog with the notoriously black ears and blue T-shirt, along with a few other semi-recognizable plushies. He laughed and hesitantly told you, “If there’s one thing I’m actually shit at in this world, then it’s claw machines, so no luck there if you want that Pochacco doll, babe.” 

You waved him off, letting go of him to reach into your purse for coins. “Luckily for you, I’m good at these.”

“Yeah?”

This time you hummed in affirmation, allowing determination to wash over your visage like a newfound mask, and goddamn did you wear it well.

He leaned against the corner of the machine, opting to hold your bag as you played. It was like watching you bowl all over again. Although this time there was no intention of beating him or scoring something, rather he got to see you navigate a metal claw for the one character you’ve gushed about to him time and time again.

Watching you again in your competitive was just as adorable as it was in the bowling alley. Only this time he didn’t have to take a moment to complete his turn. Instead he could watch as you tried to best that damn machine. Each time closer than the last, leaving you undeniably frustrated as you reached in for another set of coins for another try.

He realized something then. What he was going to tell you earlier was that his friends always told him that he must really love someone if he brought her to his safe haven. And the procession of thoughts that came after love led him back to you. From your tenacity to your openness to your smile to the way you look when the morning light washes over your visage. He can feel the softness of your skin and your hair even when he’s by himself.

When he came to you tonight, his only intention was to take a chance and take you out for once. When he said he wanted to see you happy, he didn’t realize that perhaps it was because he could actually love you, that perhaps he already was.

Jeongguk looked at you then. You, with the stray strands of hair getting in the way as you tried once more to get Pochacco out of that prison. Even when the small plushie fell out of the metal claw and you turned to him with a pout, he felt his heart flutter and the butterflies in his stomach that were always a presence really began to take hold of him.

He loved you. Truly.

“R-ready?” he managed to ask as you made a grab for your purse.

You released a sigh and a small nod, “Yeah. Next time I’ll get it. That stupid thing is rigged, but I was so close, Guk!”

He felt his heart skip when you said his nickname.

“Y-yeah, damn shame too.”

You leaned your head on the side of his chest as you resumed your previous position from before. He wondered if you could hear his heart, if you could feel what you did to it. One of your arms slipped around his waist, making him and you both remained that way until you made it to the all too familiar hallway of your floor.

“Hey,” you said suddenly.  

He blinked and tilted his head, “Yeah?”

“You know you never finished telling what your friends said when you bring someone to the bowling alley.”

He had almost forgotten how well your memory worked. Even in your own excitement, of course you would think of him.

“Ah, I’ll tell you next time.”

When you made a face, a protest already forming on your lips as you entered the warmth of your apartment, he couldn’t help but grin lopsidedly. He wasn’t sure what to say or to do in a situation like this. He felt his nerves take hold again, and the small voices of doubt whispering as he considered what to tell you. Could he really fuck this all up because of his feelings? Could he really do that? After all that progress, here he was, messing things up.

He gulped right then as you pulled him inside and shut the door behind him, “How about we go out again and I’ll tell you then?”

“Okay,” you smiled, leaning up to press your lips to his. “I’m holding you to that then.”

He nodded, responding instantly to you. Like second nature, he cupped your cheek and pinned your back to the wall, pressing your bodies closer to together.

He would deal with it when the time came. It would be okay. He hoped.