#han fluff

Masterlist | you'll probably like: like I have nothing to lose

Daily click

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @sleepyleeji @jinnie-ret @sheraayasherrecs @rockstarkkami @urlocalmultigroupfan @aeinzzzketchup @queenofdumbfuckery @sarita-sunday @lezleeferguson-120 @chimmyn0chu @sspersonally @enhacolor @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Dividers by @pixopix | images 1, 2 and 3

like right now, you were hunched over the stove, the smell of steak and the sound of sizzling filled the kitchen, ingredients scattered all around counter, a tray of sauteed veggies ready—you were going above and beyond really—yet all he could say was, "this is taking foreverrr" his voice whiny and ungrateful.

"have you ever been hit with a cast iron skillet that's at 400 degrees?" you ask, barely looking up, still stiring that butter all around. "no.." he said, voice small, barely holding in a smile already.

"do you want to try it?"

"nope—" "it really sounds like you wanna try it" you cut him off, fully looking up now. "nope, ill just wait."

and then after both of you finished dinner, you'd grab the now empty plates to take to the sink when—"that's right, those dishes won't clean themselves"

you stop in your tracks before balancing both dishes in one hand, walking back to the table and grabbing him by the ear with the other, ignoring his "owww! I'm sorry! I was joking!" as you pulled him behind you to the sink, setting the dishes down with a clank before saying "you're right, they wont. chop chop!" before kissing him on his now reddened ear.

and even after, when you were scooping ice cream in a bowl for desert. he'd just lean against the counter, just watching you before snickering " id say I got this one trained" he said to no one in particular.

you sigh, you were used to this really—but he successfully pissed you off every single time, getting that reaction out of you that he seeked, but you just shook your head. not giving him the satisfaction of a snarky answer.

but being jisung—he doubled down "heh, it doesnt like to talk much" as you were emptying another scoop, you just looked up at him, mouth gape before wacking him lightly with the metal scoop, making him clutch the side of his head dramatically.

and when you settled on the couch, ice cream bowl in hand, remote in the other. he'd try to eat with you, but you'd smack his hand away "the tub is in the freezer" you say not sparing him a glance, making him pout and drag his feet to the kitchen to grab some for himself.

and honestly, you do get mad sometimes, but never truly upset. because when he'd mutter a "you're so cute when you're mad" with that grin, you fall for it every single time.

You and Han have been friends for a while. People always question why two people so different from each other could find things in common. The answer is complicated because you two are very different from each other. You guys have different clothing styles, music styles, and favorite colors, favorite school subjects, and your personalities also come with differences.

As Han is more outspoken and ready to start an argument, you are more likely to handle a conflict with grace. It is like the moon and the sun, even tho they have more in common than you both have.

Still, you find comfort in his company because (let's face it) he is pretty funny and you love to laugh....

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were just relaxing at your schooldesk, with your head lying on top. It was sunny outside, and it shone through the windows. The sun covered you like a blanket.

Han saw you and went secretly behind you. He placed his hands on either side of your head, waiting for you to notice.

"Hello," he whispered, "wake up...." His voice was surprisingly soft.

"Cmon wake up," he started to be louder and louder.

"Which creature is bothering me during my nap time?" You looked above you and saw him directly staring at you.

"Ah, this creature. What are you doing? Shouldn't you find a job or something?" you scoffed

"For the record," he whispered, "I work at the CD-stop, thank you very much."

"Well, shouldn't you be there, working right now?"

"You forgot something," he smiled, "there is one hour left on the schedule."

You groaned and looked up at the clock.

"You've got to be kidding me," you groaned on your desk.

"Well, are you ready for some math?" he asked, still hovering over you.

"Math??" you started whining, "for dam sake, can't I have a day off once in a while."

"You know....," he said, "we could, just throwing it out there, go and leave...."

You were thinking about the consequences if you left school early.

"Wouldn't we get in trouble?" you asked.

"I will figure something out, no worries," he winked.

You sighed and stood up, taking your crossbag with you.

"Well, shall we?" he smirked.

"Sure," you linked your arm with his.

"Whoa....do you have to tell me something?" Han smirked. "It is pretty....flirty to hold me like that, don't you think?"

"Fine," you pushed him away. "Now better?"

"I was just joking," he said smiling, placing his arm over your shoulder.

You guys went to your usual grass spot, somewhere at a nearby skatepark. You lie down to enjoy the sun. Next to you was the shadow of a tree, where Han enjoyed himself. He took out his cassette player and started to listen to a song. He looked so peaceful and... quite adorable, you might admit.

"What are you listening?"

"Hmm?"

"I said, what are you listening?"

He gave you the biggest grin "Oh I am listening Nine Inch Nails."

"Hmmm interesting, which song?"

"Ah....it is called "Closer"."

"Can I listen?" you crawled towards him.

"This particular song? I don't think it is meant for your ears, buttercup."

"....How bad can it be, cmon show it to me skillet." you reached out for his casette.

"Oh no no no," he laughed and shoved you playfully ", another... time perhaps?"

"Fine," you rolled on your back and then on your tummy. You placed your chin on the palm of your hand while looking at him.

"What do you want?"

"I forgot my cassette player."

He tilted his head, "....do I look like a magician to you?"

"Actually? Yes, you do."

"Oh, you want to see a magic trick?" he crawled towards you, "close your eyes, buttercup of mine."

"First of all, why are you calling me buttercup? Second of all, you dare not do anything stupid skillet."

You closed your eyes and felt him hovering above you. He has never been this close. Your chest started doing something weird, like a magnetic pull towards him. You felt his hands go to your shoulders and then....

"For dam sake, Han," you laughed. He was tickling you and not stopping.

"I am going to kick your ass," you said, trying to sound serious and mad.

"I dare to see you try," he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You tried to do something, but he pinned your wrists down. His hands had a steady grip, but they weren't painful. If somebody had stood from proximately twee meters away, they would think you two would kiss or something.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. It was a weird moment, not in a bad way ofcourse. He cracked a smile at you.

"You look pretty," he caressed cheek, which made one of your wrists free.

You were too stunned to speak and just nodded at him. He looked at his watch.

"Dammit....well i have to go to work," he backed up again. You sat upright, still not being able to speak or say anything.

"Uh-huh."

"Uh-huh," he mocked you while having the biggest grin on his face.

You cleared your throat "Uh-hmm, go t-to....to your stupid CD-stop."

He stood up from the grass, cleaning off his pants.

"Well aren't you coming?"

"Uh....nah I am....just going to enjoy the view, you know...."

"The view? The skatepark?"

"Yeah....the skatepark, my view, got any problems?"

He laughed, "No i don't have any problems with you and your "view"."

"Good."

"Good."

Then a silence fell, a pretty comfortable silence. He observed your face while you were averting your eyes the entire time.

"I'll see you later." he winked

"Yeah, sure, sure, bye," you glanced up at him.

Your mind went crazy.

Shit Shit Shit Shit

Your hands trembled as you called your girl bestfriend.

"Hey, what's going on?" she asked.

"Look....so something happend...."

"Oh no....is it code red, green, or pink?"

"Pin-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before she started to scream from excitement in the phone.

"WHO is it?"

"Uhhh....i don't kno but Ha-."

She cutted you off again by screaming

"I knew it! I can sense this kind of stuff. You are welcome."

"Woah woah what do you mean by that?"

"Pookie, he is eyeing you constantly, like every single moment."

"Huh....why didn't you tell me something?!"

"Oh i don't know, maybe too build the tension between you two, dumbass."

You couldn't help but giggle slightly at the though of Han secretly looking at you.

"Ahhh i am hearing you like it," she grinned on the other end of the phone (obviously you couldn't see that).

"Okay but what do i need to do?"

"What is he doing now?"

"Working at the CD-stop."

She was humming on the other end of the phone.

"Hmmm, yeah you should go to him."

"Huh but he is working isn't he?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Wouldn't I be interrupting him?"

"Cmon, don't kid yourself. You can never interrupt him."

"Okay so I go....what do i do?"

"Just....be normal and walk with him home."

You fell silent on the other end.

"What if he asks to come in?"

"Then you do what makes you comfortable."

"You think he woul-...."

"OH GOD NO, no definitely not. Even tho i hate every men you like, he is a gentleman."

"Uh, excuse me, who said I like him?"

"Girl, do I need to slap some sense into your head?"

"Fine. Well i am going....wish me luck, i guess?"

"You go for it and don't forget to update me, my life is pretty boring nowadays."

You laughed and hung up. You shook off the stress before standing up from your spot. You walked towards the CD stop, which felt like an eternity. There was no plan that you prepared; it would all be some free-style.

You opened the door from the store, and Han immediately spotted you from behind the counter. His eyes were glued to you even if you hadn't seen him yet.

When you finally saw him, it felt like you forgot how to walk. You slowly made your way up to him.

"Well, did you get bored with your 'view'?"

"Yeah pretty much." you smiled softly.

You didn't realise how his heart melted because of that smile he always adored. His eyes softened when he looked at you.

"Well?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you here, not that I mind your presence, just curious."

"I just....I just know you have nothing else to do but bore yourself to death after work so....here I am."

"I see." he smiled "well give me one second to take my stuff and get my check."

"Yep." you nodded.

You were looking through the tiny crack of the door he left open. You could see him bend over to take his stuff. You caught a little glimpse of his bare body. When he turned around, you looked at the ceiling (as if there was something so special about it).

"Ready to go?" he asked

"Yep."

You two walked out of the store together. As you took your usual path, the sun started playing games with your mind. The sun made Hans skin glow, and every little beautiful detail became even more visible. You couldn't help but look at him with awe.

"You want to hang out as usual?"

"Hmm? Uh yeah sure."

As you reached his house, he led you up to his room you know, like your own pocket. You sat on his bed and looked around, catching every little thing you always used to miss.

You started to search through his CDs. He swiftly stood behind you, gazing over your shoulder.

"You found something interesting?" he whispered in your ear.

"Uh....nothing....yet....thanks for asking....boy....?"

He laughed to himself and laid his chin on your shoulder.

"I really like this one," he grabbed a CD.

"Oh....Take My Breath A-....You really listen to....it?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "I find it endearing....reminds me of things, you know?"

"Yeah....I know...."

He turned around to the CD player and put the CD inside. When you heard the beats of "Take My Breath Away", the tension in the air got even more heart-wrenching.

You didn't even dare to turn around, too "invested" in the CDs. He tapped your shoulder.

"You want to dance with me?" he looked at you with full confidence. He stuck out his hand for you to grab.

You grabbed it full of something, not fear, something weird. Like a big mix-up of different thoughts.

He placed your hands around his neck and his on your waist. His thumbs were gently stroking your sides.

"Since when do you....do this....kind of stuff?" you asked

He tilted his head "since you told me you like this kind of dancing."

You nodded and looked down.

"Are my eyes frightening you?" he smiled

"No....why?"

"Because you are not even close to looking into them."

You slowly looked up at him. There was nothing else, just you and him and whatever was going on.

"I want you to close your eyes."

"Again a 'magic trick'?"

He laughed, "Sure, if you want to call it that."

You closed your eyes. After maybe 4 seconds, you could feel his breath directly on your cheeks. He planted a small kiss on your cheek. It was enough to make your heart want to jump out of its chest.

You felt his hand stroking your cheek. His lips brushed softly against yours. As he wanted to back out, you stopped him. Without thinking, you kissed him back.

His hands stroked your hair.

When you opened your eyes, he just looked at you. Not astonished, but full of joy. He grabbed your chin and kissed you again. Slow and deliberate.

You walked backwards and fell accidently on the bed, taking Han with you.

"Shit," you said under your breath.

Han laughed and continued kissing you. Finally, he could properly hover over you. His hands rested on either side of your head, stabilizing himself.

He kept kissing you like he needed it to breathe.

"Whoa....wait I am out of breath," you said, breathing heavily.

"Fits the song, doesn't it?" he laughed and stroked your hair. "You are pretty."

"You already told me."

"Well is it a crime to repeat it?"

You laughed and hid your face with your hands.

"Oh no no, I want to see you smile." taking your wrists and pinning them.

"I love it when you smile." he said.

"I love it when you make me smile."

hyunjin sighs, ruffling your hair with one hand while the other pats slow circles against your back. he doesn’t flinch at the tears staining his sweatshirt; this scene’s played out too many times for either of you to pretend it’s new. 

“y/n,” he murmurs gently, “you’ve gotta move on. he wasn’t good for you. you deserve better.”

you shake your head, stubborn even in the face of another heartbreak. “but— but we were good together,” you insist, though the words come out weak, hollow. even you don’t believe them.

you’ve always been one to linger over a breakup. everyone you’ve ever loved and let go of has claw marks on them; each time, you refused to give up, even when the writing on the wall was written in red. and every time, you paid the price.

and hyunjin— your steady, exhausted, loyal older brother— is always there to catch you when you inevitably fall apart; the one man contractually, genetically obligated to listen while you mourn ghosts who don’t deserve funerals.

tonight, he lets you cry until your tears run dry, knowing how hard your most recent split has been on you. he soothes you with one hand rubbing your back as you mumble hardly coherent memories into his hoodie, frowning at the way the cycle keeps repeating itself for his hopeless romantic of a little sister.

when your breathing finally evens out, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “get some sleep, okay?” he says quietly, the tone in his voice half a plea, half a habit.

you nod even though you both know you won’t. he waits until you shuffle down the hall before turning off the lamp, leaving only the dim streetlight bleeding through the blinds.

the shared apartment hums with that soft, post-cry silence— humid, heavy, familiar. you sit on the edge of your bed, tears still damp on the neckline of your pajamas, eyes swollen and mind restless. your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. you stare at it for too long before picking it up.

you tell yourself you’re just checking the time; but your thumb’s already unlocking the screen, opening the photo app despite knowing it’ll only make things worse.

—

♪♩ “i thought my house was haunted; i used to live with ghosts…” ♩♪

you know it’s a bad idea. but you can’t stop yourself from reopening old wounds, thumbing in your passcode to view photos you should be keeping hidden, if not deleted.

it’s one of those muscle-memory things— your thumb moving before your brain catches up, swiping left, scrolling down, pausing just long enough to hurt yourself.

there’s your kitchen table from two apartments ago, boasting a homemade birthday cake. his hand— blurred, mid-laugh, holding up the candle that wouldn’t stay lit. another photo, another him: the one who made you playlists for all of life’s milestones and then suddenly stopped.

the next photo pops up: this guy is the one who kissed you on the streets of NYC on new year’s eve, then ghosted you before valentine’s day rolled around. you swipe past it onto the next photo, the guy who said he’d call when he moved away for college and never did.

it’s strange how all of them live here now, trapped in your cell phone. the photos, the texts you never deleted but should have, all of the broken promises hanging in your periphery like corners of old rooms you can still map by heart. you think about deleting everything sometimes, a clean slate. but that would make it too quiet. haunted houses are still houses, after all; and it used to feel like home.

you scroll until the faces start to blur into one another— same smile, different mouth. same sweet nothings, different voice. it’s almost funny, in that bitter way heartbreak gets when it’s too familiar to sting.

you press the side button and let it all go dark again.

for a moment, in the reflection your lamp casts on the black screen, you swear you see movement— like something flickering in the corner of your eye. but it’s just you, your own tired face staring back.

maybe that’s the haunting: all this heartbreak.

you sigh and flick the lamp off, closing your eyes like it’ll help. it doesn’t.

—-

♪♩ “and all the perfect couples said “when you know, you know”/ and when you don’t, you don’t” ♩♪

by the time the sun climbs through your blinds, the ghosts have gone quiet— but the living are much louder.

you’re half-listening as felix and chan– your other roommates, not to mention two of your closest friends– argue over who gets the last pancake, both of them talking with their mouths full, oblivious to the ache blooming somewhere behind your ribs. the kitchen smells like maple syrup and cheap coffee; sunlight floods across the counter like it’s trying too hard, making hyunjin squint as he buries his head in a newspaper like some kind of grandpa.

“you see this?” felix says suddenly, waving his phone in front of you. on the screen is close-up shot of a hand, manicured nails painted the color of a robin’s egg, an engagement ring flashing like a tiny star. the caption reads: i said yes! can’t wait to marry my best friend :)

chan leans over his shoulder. “oh, that’s mina from your dance class, right?”

felix nods, grinning. “yeah! she and her boyfriend have been dating, like, forever.”

you force a smile and say, “pretty sure they’ve been together since sophomore year. i remember the matching halloween costumes they wore for that one recital.”

chan laughs, easy and fond. “see? when you know, you know.”

felix snorts. “and when you don’t, you don’t.”

it’s a nice sentiment, in theory– you just wish there was a manual for knowing, a way to recognize the click before it slips through your fingers again. he pops a piece of pancake into his mouth like that’s all there is to it; and the world keeps turning, sweeping you up with it, caring little for the state of your battered and bruised heart.

you take a sip of your coffee. it’s gone lukewarm. of course it has.

felix keeps scrolling, going searching for other college couples on instagram, nosy to see if they’ve broken up or put a ring on it. chan tries to change the subject, but you barely hear him. all the words blur together: soulmates. forever. never. perfect match. doomed from the start.

your hand drifts toward your own phone, the one still sleeping face-down on the counter. you think about last night— the photos, the ghosts, the blur of smiles that used to mean something, but you were never really sure. you wanted to be.

maybe you’ve never known. maybe that’s the problem.

—

♪♩ “all of the foes and all of the friends/ have seen it before, they’ll see it again; life is a song, it ends when it ends/ i was wrong…” ♩♪

according to felix, life is short. too short for you to stay sulking around the apartment like a woman on house arrest.

“come on, y/n,” he’s goading you while you remain unimpressed, “when was the last time we all went out dancing together?”

you sigh, tracing the rim of your tea mug. the idea sounds exhausting in theory— noise and people and lights bright enough to melt away the hurt that’s built up in your heart— but there’s something about felix’s grin, about the stubborn warmth of all three of them staring you down like a family-sized intervention, that makes it hard to say no. 

“fine,” you say finally, “but only if i don’t have to wear heels.” 

felix cheers like you’ve just agreed to a war-ending peace treaty. “oh hell yeah, i’ll take that deal. let’s go try that new dance bar that just popped up downtown!” he taps his phone with fingers flying over the keyboard, “website says that doors open at eight thirty sharp.”

chan throws a hand over his heart. “thank god. i thought we’d never get y/n to agree.”

hyunjin springs up from his spot on the couch to go hog the bathroom and start getting ready, shooting you a knowing look. “you’ll thank us later.” 

“i doubt that,” you reply, letting chan lead you to your closet to pick something to wear; but the corner of your mouth betrays you.

by the time eight o’clock rolls around, the apartment hums with the soft chaos of getting ready: felix blasting a remix from the bathroom, chan ironing a shirt that definitely doesn’t need ironing, hyunjin stealing your mirror space to fix his hair. your reflection catches in the corner of the glass— mascara wand poised midair, a little too much glitter on your eyelids. you look almost like someone else; someone brighter, more whole.

maybe that’s the point. maybe the disco ball will refract the light you’re painting on tonight instead of breaking you into a million pieces.

felix appears behind you, sunglasses perched in his hair even though it’s long past sundown. “operation distraction is a go,” he announces like a sports anchor.

chan laughs, jingling his keys and nudging hyunjin away from the mirror. “alright,” he says as he shoos all of you out the door, “foes and friends, baby. let’s go make both.”

you roll your eyes but follow them out anyway, the night stretching wide and electric ahead of you, the promise of forgetting looming bright.

—

♪♩ “but my mama told me it's alright, you were dancing through the lightning strikes/ sleepless in the onyx night, but now the sky is opalite/ oh my lord, never met no one like you before/ you had to make your own sunshine, but now the sky is opalite” ♩♪

the bar is less counterspace and more dance floor, and hyunjin is absolutely thrilled by it.

your best friends have you by the wrists, pulling you deeper into the whirl of bodies, and you don’t fight it. the crowd is loud and the music is even louder, but it all feels like the exact kind of blur of forgetting yourself that you came for. you tip your head back and laugh, letting the fizz in your drink slosh over your hand, glittering lights already catching on your skin.

you’re still hurting, somewhere hidden in the back corners of your heart; but you’re thoroughly dancing it out tonight, spinning and glorious with your friends at your sides.

tonight, you don’t need anyone’s hands but your own. you’re sparkling, brilliant; shining under the lights to hide the melancholy gnawing at your ribs. you’re golden and radiant, a star collapsing in on herself— and for once, it doesn’t feel tragic. it feels electric.

maybe that’s why you don’t notice right away that someone’s eyes have already found you across the room.

but you don’t care about watching eyes or strangers keeping score. all you care about is the spin, the lights, the way the bar fills that empty, bleeding wedge somewhere deep within. chan has you by the shoulders now, convulsing with laughter as he twirls you in a sloppy circle, and the room fades alongside your friends— lights stretch into glowing streaks, sweat damp at your temples, your drink swishing perilously close to the rim of the cup in your hand.

you let yourself get lost in it. every beat is another excuse to toss your head back, to close your eyes and pretend you’re nothing but sound and color. someone brushes against you in the crowd, someone else’s elbow knocks into your ribs; none of it matters. you’re untouchable in the center of your little orbit.

your throat aches from laughing too hard, your lungs burn from trying to sing along, and still you don’t stop. you can’t. because if you stop, the world might settle back into stillness, and you’ll have to remember the too-empty nights, the too-cold bed, the listless feeling of being lost with no one to break your fall.

the song ends, fading into the hum of conversation and the DJ’s voice over the speakers: something about ‘taking requests’, ‘open floor’, ‘make it a good one’.

felix perks up immediately, already tugging on chan’s sleeve like a man on a mission. “come on, we’re asking for something to start a conga line to.”

“a conga line,” chan repeats, “what are we, twelve years old?” but he’s grinning as he follows anyway, both of them vanishing toward the booth.

hyunjin, meanwhile, sets his sights on the bar. “i’m going to go get us another round,” he declares, which you know is absolutely code for flirting until someone buys him one instead.

you watch him weave through the crowd, shaking your head, and turn to follow— only to spin right into something solid.

or… someone solid.

the impact knocks the air out of you before you even register you’re falling. 

a hand flails for balance, misses, and then you’re both down— limbs tangled, an elbow catching your shoulder, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as you seem to fall in slow motion.

you land with an unbecoming noise and immediately groan, rubbing where your shoulder hit; and then you hear it.

a snort.

you glance over at the figure sprawled beside you. the guy— brown hair, wide grin, entirely too handsome for his own good— is sitting beside you on the floor, just staring for a beat before he bursts out laughing. 

it’s not a polite chuckle leaving him, either; no, this is a full-on, head-thrown-back kind of laughter that makes his shoulders shake.

“wow,” he manages between breaths, “you really— you really took me out.”

“oh my god,” you wheeze, half mortified, half hysterical at the sound of his booming laugh, “i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was going, and you–”

you can’t even finish the next sentence before he starts laughing harder; and it’s wildly contagious. before you know it, you’re both sitting on the sticky club floor, nearly crying from laughter while people step around you like you’re just part of the scenery.

“well,” he says finally, wiping his eyes and trying to catch his next breath. “next time you wanna knock someone over, at least give them a heads-up so they can brace for impact.”

you grin, still breathless from maybe more than just the laugh. “mm. next time, i think i’ll bring a helmet.”

his smile only widens as he pushes himself up off the floor, dusting his hands on his jeans and then extending one to you. you take it with a shy smile and he helps hoist you to your feet, fingers grasping his tightly. sparks flare to life at the touch, and you feel your ears burn pink under the stare of someone so handsome.

he’s still holding your hand as you both stand there under the disco ball. “i’m han, by the way,” he says by way of introduction, “and for the record, it was probably my faultt anyway. i’m a chronic klutz.”

you laugh again as he shakes your hand up and down, giving him your name. “i’m y/n. professional disaster.”

“ah,” he says, hand tightening around yours. “pleasure doing business with you.”

you stand there with the crowd still swirling around you both, light scattering in fluorescent beams across your faces as the bass continues thudding under your feet. you open your mouth to say something– maybe another apology for the crash landing– but before you can get a word out, he’s leading you towards the bar, hand still holding yours like it’s habit.

“let me at least buy you a drink to make up for it,” he’s saying as he helps you weave through the throng of people. you giggle and allow it, certain that your night just got that much more interesting now that han jisung has stumbled into the middle of it.

—

♪♩ “you couldn't understand it, why you felt alone/ you were in it for real, she was in her phone and you were just a pose” ♩♪

as fate would have it, that drink was only the first of many you’d come to share with han.

that night at the club where he came careening into your life like a fallen star is nearly a month behind you now. since then, there’s been coffee runs that turned into lunch, voice notes that turned into phone calls, and a steady drift into whatever this is: laughter that fills the quiet, late-night texts about nothing, his name lighting up your screen more than anyone else’s.

he’s good company in a way that sneaks up on you. han is as easy as breathing to be around— funny easy, not careless easy. he makes you laugh until your ribs ache, the kind of laughter that melts all the heaviness right off your shoulders. he doesn’t demand anything from you, doesn’t prod at old bruises; he just listens, and jokes, and somehow makes the world seem like a less cruel place for soft hearts to be in for a few hours at a time.

tonight, it’s your apartment. the roommates are gone for the night, and a half-empty bottle of red sits between you on your coffee table. your socks don’t match, his hoodie might be on backwards, and the playlist you’d put on for ambiance has long since dissolved into whatever spotify decided you’d like next. the room smells like wine and vanilla candles and comfort.

conversation always flows with him. it’s flowing freely tonight, having jumped all over the place before landing where you are now: the past. but for once, you can look back without your rose-tinted glasses. because maybe now those are reserved only for looking towards the future.

“you know what the worst part was?” han is saying about his last ex, swirling his glass like he’s contemplating the best way to say it. “she was always on her phone. like, i’d be telling her about something that mattered to me, and she’d just… scroll. thumb moving twenty-four seven.”

you hum softly, watching the wine trace the rim of his glass. “god, that’s the worst. it makes you feel invisible.”

“yeah,” he says, a little laugh tucked behind the word. “i know doomscrolling is addictive, and hey– i do it too. but she was never present, and honestly, it really bothered me. i used to joke that i was competing with her notifications, but—” he pauses, his smile tugging crooked, sideways. “—it stopped being funny after a while.”

you nod. the couch you share seems to let you sink in further with quiet understanding. “mine didn’t scroll,” you admit, running a finger along the stem of your own wineglass, “he just… stopped listening. i’d start telling him a story, and he’d already checked out halfway through. i think that’s worse, in a way. the silence pretending it’s something other than just silence. i think he only hung around with me because he was too lazy to go find better.”

han looks at you over the rim of his glass, eyes soft in the low light. “yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s definitely worse.”

you clink your glasses together with a short chuckle, the sound small but solid in the stillness.

“to actually being listened to,” you say, smiling.

“to people who look up from their phones to talk to me,” he adds, grin returning, brighter now.

the candles burn lower. the wine runs out. but the conversation doesn’t— drifting from exes to movies to the worst songs you’ve ever cried to. at some point, you realize your knees are touching, and you don’t pull away.

you don’t want to.

you want to lean in until the laughter and the buzz of wine and good conversation swallows you whole.

—

♪♩ “and don't we try to love love? we give it all we got/ you finally left the table, and what a simple thought– you're starving til you're not” ♩♪

you didn’t realize how long you’d been hungry until you stopped mistaking the ache for living.

for years, love had been crumbs and rationing— learning to fold your appetite down into something polite. you’d sat at tables where affection felt like something to be earned or won, where silence filled the spaces between half-hearted effort and true apathy.

and then there was han.

he came in like a summer thunderstorm, all laughter and warmth and too much: too loud, too present, too kind. he didn’t ask you to eat quietly; he piled your plate high. every “good morning” text, every off-key hum while he played his guitar for you, every casual brush of his thumb across your cheek— it all felt like being handed another reason to eat.

han jisung loves with excess. he loves like he’s afraid to let you ever go hungry again.

and you… you’re learning what it means to finally be full.

he’s your boyfriend now, officially– he asked two weeks ago with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, confessing on your doorstep in the pouring rain like some rom-com hero. your first kiss would’ve been magic if hyunjin hadn’t opened the door and immediately yelped before turning around and slamming it.

now, han comes over all the time; he’s here again tonight, holding you close as you watch some cheesy thriller on the tv in your bedroom.

the movie’s been paused for ages. neither of you remembers when you stopped watching. his knee is pressed against yours, his hair is falling wildly across his forehead, and your bed smells faintly of popcorn and laundry detergent and him. you’re nose-to-nose, locked in a staring contest that’s gone on far too long for either of you to win.

“blink,” you whisper.

“you first,” he says, eyes wide, grin twitching.

you last another few seconds before your eyelids betray you, fluttering shut against your will as he bursts into laughter— sharp and delighted and immediately contagious. you smack his shoulder weakly, trying not to laugh yourself; but he’s already leaning in, pressing a kiss to your cheek in victory.

“you cheated,” you accuse.

“i’m just built different,” he teases, his voice softening on the last word when your hand slides up to cradle his jaw.

you both go quiet for a moment. his eyes dart to your mouth; yours to his.

and then it’s just— light. laughter. a kiss that lands somewhere between a giggle and a sigh, the kind that starts clumsy and ends tender. his nose brushes yours, and he murmurs against your lips, “you’re perfect.”

you hum, smiling with your arms hooked behind his head. “don’t you forget it, mister.” you kiss the tip of his nose with a wide beam.

he hugs you closer to him, squishing your cheeks and making you squeal. “never,” he says with a mischevious glint in his eyes before he attacks, peppering kisses all over your face in quick, noisy succession. you protest through your laughter, but he doesn’t let up– cheeks, nose, eyes, forehead. nowhere is safe from his messy onslaught.

he pulls back eventually to just look at you, thumb stroking over your cheeks, eyes soft and warm. “where have you been all my life?” he says, his voice a reverent whisper.

you fight the happy tears that well in your eyes at the tone, the emotion roiling off of him in waves. he’s all you ever wanted, all you tried to find in every lover past. and now he’s here, holding you, never letting go.

you smile fondly. “i could ask you the same thing, han.”

and when you pull him in for another kiss, you can taste the smile that curves his mouth.

—

♪♩ “and all of the foes and all of the friends have messed up before, they’ll mess up again/ life is a song, it ends when it ends/ you move on…” ♩♪

felix slams his hand down on the kitchen table with enough force to make the deck of cards bounce, pointing at hyunjin. “you didn’t say uno!”

“you absolute heathen,” hyunjin says immediately, narrowing his eyes. “you didn’t call the draw-two i stacked last round when i forgot to say uno. is your sore-loserism selective?”

“that was forever ago,” chan cuts in, voice strangled with laughter as he sorts through the rainbow explosion of cards in his hand. “hyun, i love you, but you’ve got to learn to let go.”

“never,” hyunjin declares, deadly serious. “i haven’t won a single round yet tonight.”

you’re already half-doubled over, giggling into your pajama sleeve. han’s chin rests on your shoulder from behind, his arms looped lazily around your waist where he’s perched on the back of your chair. he smells like your fabric softener and a little bit of the pizza you all demolished earlier.

game nights have always been sacred tradition in the apartment— so when chan suggested you invite han to join, you swear your heart grew three sizes. your brother reluctantly likes him, felix’s already declared him his long-lost twin, and even chan’s gone soft for him; maybe han jisung’s just always been this effortlessly charming.

“what do you think, partner?” he’s murmuring now, voice low and mock-strategic in your ear. “we going for blood or showing mercy?”

you peek at your measly two cards. “we’re not exactly in a position to negotiate either way.”

“ah, but we have something they don’t,” he says, squeezing your shoulders, “love. and the element of surprise.”

you snort. “remind me again why i agreed to date an absolute cheeseball?”

“you already lost,” felix points out to han flatly, eyeing his own handful of cards. “you’re basically a cheerleader at this point.”

“correction,” han says, raising his hand like he’s making a proclamation. “i’m y/n’s cheerleader, not yours. i’ll cheer her on while she crushes you like a grape.”

“i don’t think there will be any crushing. there’s no more draw-fours in the pile,” hyunjin says, grinning devilishly as he fans himself with his cards. “your move, sis.”

you glance up at han, and he whispers, “blue seven.”

you nod solemnly and lay it down.

chan groans, slumping in his chair. “i hate that you two are actually good at this now. we should’ve never let him sit behind you— he’s reading everyone’s cards.”

“sucks to suck,” han says smugly, nuzzling into your shoulder. 

felix throws his head back, laughing. “he’s unbearable.”

“i like him,” hyunjin says, but it’s the kind of statement that comes out begrudgingly, like he’s admitting defeat. “but not right now. someone explain to me how this isn’t outright cheating.”

“don’t encourage him,” you mutter, but you’re smiling too wide for it to land.

the room is all warmth and clatter: cards slapping the table, the clink of bottles, someone’s phone buzzing and being ignored. han keeps one arm draped around you as if it’s second nature now, his thumb drawing absent circles against your shoulder every time you laugh.

there’s no spotlight on the moment, no cinematic shift in the lighting. it’s just easy.

he fits.

like he’s always been here, folded into the noise and the rhythm of this little life you’ve built: the half-finished puzzles on the counter, the group calendar hanging by the door, the messy familiarity of people who’ve seen you at your best and your absolute worst.

han laughs loud and tilts his head back, and chan looks at him with the same fond exasperation he uses on you; and you realize suddenly that there’s no before or after or ghosts haunting your heart anymore. just this. just him.

felix is threatening to make a new rule that bans “public displays of team affection,” hyunjin’s pretending to peek at your cards, han’s still whispering nonsense strategies in your ear— and the world feels whole in a way you didn’t even know you were missing.

you’re not waiting for the other shoe to drop. you’re not waiting for the messy ending. you’re not biting down loneliness.

you’re just… home.

you throw down a draw four, ridding yourself of the final card in your hand. “read it and weep, boys.”

han kisses your head as the others groan loudly. “attagirl,” he murmurs against your temple.

—

♪♩ “don’t you sweat it, baby! it's alright, we were dancing through the lightning strikes…” ♩♪

the rain is relentless.

it’s one of those sudden showers, the kind that comes on so fast the sky hardly bothers going from blue to gray, instead leaving beams of sunlight out to play and scatter through the puddles.

you’d tried avoiding it, but to no avail: it pelts you as you and han race through the grocery store parking lot hand in hand, laughing at how quickly it soaks you both. your hoodie’s plastered to your skin, your sneakers squelch with every step, and the plastic bag swinging from your arm has already lost the battle— a last-minute baking ingredient barely hanging on for dear life.

han skids to a stop halfway between the car and the sliding doors, breathless, hair dripping into his eyes. “wait— wait!” he pulls you close without warning, pushing wet hair out of his face.

“what?” you sputter, blinking through the downpour.

“dance with me,” he says, grin wide and wild, “right here, right now.”

you stare at him, rainwater dripping off your nose. “you’re insane.”

“debatable,” he says, already spinning you before you can argue. “but come on, y/n. you know you wanna.”

your laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. he twirls you under his arm, the rain cascading around you like a thousand tiny diamonds. your wet sneakers skid across the asphalt, and when you trip, he just catches you easily as the grocery bag hits the pavement, both of you dissolving into helpless laughter.

♪♩ “sleepless in the onyx night, but now the sky is opalite/ oh my lord, never met no one like you before…” ♩♪

you end up pressed close, his hands warm against your chilled arms, your forehead against his. the rain softens for a moment, turning to mist, haloing him in the crystalline glow of the barely-obscured sun.

“see?” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “told you this was romantic.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you whisper, but your voice splits with a smile.

han brushes his nose against yours, back and forth, until it makes you laugh. “you love me anyway.”

“unfortunately,” you tease, though your thumb is already tracing the line of his jaw.

he grins like it’s the first time you’ve ever said it. “oh, my love,” he hums, almost to himself. “what am i gonna do with you, hmm?”

you tilt up on your toes to kiss him— soft, rain-slick, perfect. everything fades out: the roar of passing cars, the bag sitting limply on the ground, the world beyond this puddled stretch of asphalt. it’s just the two of you, soaked to the bone, laughing against each other’s mouths like there’s no past to haunt and no future to fear.

your arms wrap around his neck as his hold you close, kissing each other’s smiles, breaking only for air and laughter. it’s sweet as honey and softer than ever, mouths parting on one another like you can kiss the love out of your chests and into the other’s heart.

you no longer care that you’re soaked to the bone.

♪♩ “you had to make your own sunshine, but now the sky is opalite…” ♩♪

he presses his forehead to yours again, breaths mingling. “we’re gonna look like drowned rats when we get home,” he says.

you smile, brushing his dripping hair out of his face. “worth it.”

“you’re damn right.”

and when he pulls you in again— just a little tighter, just a little longer— the storm doesn’t feel like something to run from anymore.

the sky above you glows soft and prismatic through the fading rain, clouds breaking open to let the light in.

and it’s opalite.

—

the end.