#in fluff

You didn’t think when he left, he’d leave so much of himself with you; Everything from the cups in the cabinet to the paint splatters on the floor. The four walls of your room storing a lifetime of memories of the boy who loved you; nighttime laughter and limbs interlaced. It’s completely foreign to not have him next to you, skin to skin, hearts synced to a song only the two of you know. 

You loved him for three summers, almost from the first time you saw him–sat next to the river, with headphones on and a pen in hand–He was beautiful, a timeless photograph of affection, and you were smitten as soon as he opened his mouth. 

The past 36 months were lovely and joyous, 1095 days spent foolishly glued together, yet when Hyunjin decided to end the relationship three weeks ago, you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. He’d been so busy, graduating last year and going on to bigger and brighter things–exhibitions almost every week, assisting an artist  he loved–so many wonderful things that took him away from you. When he was home he was too tired to love you, so it made sense when he ended it. So much sense that it’s kept you awake all the nights following. 

Every night–at roughly when he would’ve come home to you–you find yourself waking up to the loss of his cologne. For a moment, you’re given a momentary bout of bliss, confusion clouding up your mind with questions of where’d he go, rather than if he’s coming back. The answer comes quickly, though, rupturing your heart before the rest of you knew you were awake. 

Your mind is lost in the goodbye, the taste of salt on your lips and your favorite blue sweater wrapped around your arms, the way his eyes were wide with sadness. Did he kiss you then? Was it his tongue that swiped away the tears or your own? Did his hands hold you one last time, make you cry from pleasure before pain? All you seem to remember was him walking away, so fast you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to recall–but it's all you seem to be able to think about. 

He broke your heart on a Tuesday, but did he kiss you then? 

He was sweet with the farewell, telling you he was sorry, that he loved you but it wasn’t enough any more. There was just too much time and distance living between the two of you, but nothing really has to change… we can all still be friends. 

What a sad thought, friends with the boy who held your bleeding heart in his hands. 

Why should you still be friends if love wasn’t enough for him? 

You know you look pathetic, his too big clothes swathing around your limp form, keeping you toasty where your bare legs hit the bathroom floor. His voice flowing from your phone's speaker in happy waves, echoing off the tile right into your ears. It’s almost like he’s next to you, almost like it’s his arms filling out the gray hoodie and wrapping around you.

Shivering, you close your eyes just for a minute, with his last voicemail reverberating through your brain, you feel content for the first time since that sunny day three weeks before. 

“...I love you, sweetheart!” his voice rings, lighting up your heart with all the affection the name used to bring you. He hadn’t called you that in months, trading sweet nothings for sighs and sorry’s. How you long to feel the name pressed against your skin, interlaced with the kind of happiness only he could draw out. A love so undeniably him that anything else couldn’t come close. 

Loving him was sitting in planetariums and comparing each other's portraits to statues, sharing straws and blankets, breath and hands. Loving him was every star fall, trying to catch dragonflies and yelping when they grazed your hands. It was magical and devastating, everything you ever wanted. 

Hyunjin was meant for stars and lullabies, a boy meant for nighttime, but the morning is fast approaching. 

Soon, your roommate will wake up and discover your tearful form, and envelope you in coos and cuddles. He’ll wrap you up in pink comforters and bring you cookies for breakfast, a day spent with rom-coms and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio, but just for a few more minutes you’ll sit with your lovers voice in your head and his scent around you, and it’ll be as close to him as you’ll ever be again.

“Okay!? I love you so much, call me sweetheart, seriously! Call me, call me, call me.” 

“He never even deserved you!”

“Yeah, babe, like you’re so hot and funny and nice! What does he have going for him?” 

“For real! Other than being super handsome and talented, he has nothing.” 

Your friends, drunk and silly, can’t seem to stop trying to comfort you, you want to laugh, and maybe in time you’ll be able to, but here in this fresh grief with his love still palpable, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to be angry. 

Sure, he broke up with you, but it didn’t seem like too bad of a reason… he was busy all the time, and his distance brought anger and disappointment. You were fighting restlessly, forgetting to say I love you before you left for class, kisses became shorter and farther in between, but at the end of the day you did love him; endlessly and reverentially, and no matter what he said or didn’t say, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that that will never change. 

“You guys don’t have to shit talk Hyunjin just because he broke up with me, we were all friends.” Your voice is quieter than you meant it to be, slow from all the wine and covered in the sadness that seemed to follow you. “He was a good boyfriend…” 

“No, babe, a good boyfriend does not break up with you a week before your anniversary after ghosting you for a month.” Minjeong says, her tone soothing even if her words are not. 

“We’re not friends with that douche canoe, okay, we only stomached him because he was your boyfriend, and now that he’s not, I personally never want to see him again.” 

“Chaeryeong! Stop, you've been his friend for literal years.” 

“Nope, I can’t remember!” she sings out, giggling as her wine glass spills out red liquid all over the floor. 

“He’s persona non grata now, girly, if I see him, I’m coming in swinging!” 

Minjeong’s claim, however silly, does have you finally laughing. Deep, belly ache inducing laughs that fill your little apartment with more joy than it’s held in weeks. It’s true that before the official break up, you were infuriated, anger escaping your lips whenever the man was mentioned. But since the finality of that day, all you’ve felt is an insurmountable grief daring to erupt at any moment. 

You loved him, you lost him, and isn’t that just so sad? 

You thought you’d have him forever… daydreamt weddings and forever homes, Late night whispers of baby names and honeymoons. Everything you’ve ever planned, out the window with the first signs of conflict. Sure, maybe it would’ve ended anyway, but would it have killed him to try? How dare he take that future away from you, a happy ending too good to be true. 

A betrayal that cut too deep to be anything but devastating. 

But sitting here now, listening to your friends being mad and protective, you think you can see a future where you are angry again–a day in the coming weeks where everything he said is tinged with red instead of blue. And maybe after that you can be happy, really truly happy, even when the girls' laughter aren’t around to accompany you. 

“Hey, we love you, okay?” Chaeryeong says, breathing heavily through her giggles. “I know it’s hard now, you loved each other so much, but don’t waste anymore of your time locked inside this apartment. You’re way too cute to not let anyone see you.” 

She smiles at you, her hand wrapped around yours as a few tears stray. You don’t know if they’re happy or sad, or maybe a bit of both, all you know is you love her. You love the both of them so much that even through this inescapable loss, you smile back. They’re your favorite people on earth, and if they think you’ll be okay maybe you will be. 

“I love you guys too, I’m sorry I’m so mopey… Felix keeps trying to get me to smile, but there's just so much I can take before I’m crying again.”

“Hey, hey,” Minjeong whispers, “Don’t apologize, you get to be a little storm cloud.” 

“Personally, I like you stormy–makes it more fun when you snap.” Chaeryeong tells you, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to get you to laugh again. 

Miraculously, it works–laughter seeping out of you and onto the wine soaked tiles. Maybe they’re right, maybe all you need is some time…

Maybe another day of watching The Princess Diaries and eating ice cream for dinner will cure you, maybe falling asleep in Hyunjin’s sweatpants will finally ease the hole he left, maybe all you have to do is leave the house tomorrow. Whatever it is, you promise them you’ll try–and as they cuddle up to you, dropping popcorn in between the couch cushions and cracking up at the same jokes you’ve heard a thousand times, somewhere inside, you feel a little bit more okay. 

Unfortunately, that feeling can only last so long. 

It’s thirty minutes past the witching hour when you see the photo. He’s gorgeous, devastatingly so, heartbreakingly handsome just like you remembered. Clad in denim and decked out with silver, wrapped around a girl you’ve never seen before. 

Your phone light glares through the night, spotlighting your place in the living room. You know you should turn the brightness down, lower it or move from your place in between Chaeryong and Minjeong, less they wake up and threaten to kill you for interrupting their slumber, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. 

His hands rest on her waist, a smile breaking through close to her own, and he looks so happy. Happier than he’d looked in months, unencumbered joy leaking off him through the camera lens. And how it breaks your heart, who cares who that girl is… how could he look so happy when you haven’t even left the house in two weeks?

“Son of a bitch!” you whisper, angry tears trying to escape. How dare he? And how dare Chris for posting it on a story he knew you could see. We can all still be friends, right? What absolute bullshit. 

You find yourself laughing, laughing so hard the tears find themselve trailing down your cheeks. Howling at the unbelievability of it all, here you were defending him still, while he couldn’t wait a month to have his tongue shoved down some other girl's throat. How funny to think you love him, truly love him with every part of you, and he doesn’t respect you enough to keep his escapades a secret while you heal. 

Minjeong shuffles in her sleep, waking up to the sound of your inane outburst, pretty eyes squinted in your phone light. 

“What is it? Nothing is that funny at 3 AM.” 

“Look at this, Min.” you giggle, shoving your phone against her nose. 

“Too close!! Hold on… WHAT THE FUCK!” she yells, jolting up against the cushions and waking the other girl in the process. 

“What! What is it?!” Chaeryeong moans. 

“Hyunjin is a fucker that’s what.” Minjeong says. “An actual despicable little shit.” 

The phone is passed around, each of you staring at the picture with a sense of pure unbridled anger. To think you trusted him, gave him your heart and felt safe that he would respect it even when he gave it back. 

“I just don’t understand,” You say, your voice breaking– confusion wafting through the words and encasing you in a painful blanket of disarray. 

Through your tears you hear Chaeryeong, “Listen, we have to get him back.” She’s saying, Minjeong nodding along sleepily.

Get him back? What does she mean?! How can she already be thinking of revenge when all you want to do is cry yourself to sleep. 

“What do you mean get him back, I don’t understand.” The brokenness in your voice gives your friends pause, and for a moment the only thing you hear is the sound of Anne Hathaway monologuing on the TV. 

The two girls, true friends even with sleep dancing at their fingertips, wrap their arms around you–holding onto you like you’d drift away if they didn’t, who knows maybe you would; You do feel minutes away from being empty, like you're a bottle slowly pouring out its contents. 

Their skin is warm, and their hands carry so much comfort that you collapse against them, listening to their plan like a bedtime story that lulls you to sleep. 

“You want me to do what?!” You cry. 

“We talked about this last night!” 

“I’m sure I would’ve remembered you saying I have to go on a date with Yang Jeongin, Minjeong!” 

“It doesn’t have to be Ayen, any of his friends will do, I just thought that that’s who you were closest to…” She sighs, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her finger. “I mean it could be Changbin for all I care, I just didn’t think he’d go for it.” 

“I don’t want to date ANY of his friends, Minnie!!! Hello!” Your voice sounds shrill even to you, and as much as you're trying to keep it down for fear of the librarian coming over and yelling at you, you don’t have it in you to dampen your frustration. 

Last night was a blur, anger permeating your sleep and clouding your morning. Going through the motions of classes and too many cups of coffee before your friend called you to come deliberate on the fully formed plan they dreamt up. A plan that you don’t remember agreeing to. 

Sure, you remember saying making him jealous might make you feel better and make him feel worse, but nowhere did they say that Jeongin would be involved. You love the boy, as cynical and cold as he could be–he could make you laugh more than anyone else you ever met, and of course he was handsome, but he was one of Hyunjin’s best friends. As much as you’re angry with your ex-boyfriend now, were you really willing to use one of his friends to get back at him? 

“Plus, I don’t think he’ll go for it, I mean Innie likes to mess with the guys every once in a while, but I think hooking up with his best friends ex is too far for him.”

You try to hide the flinch at the word ex, but Minjeong sees right through you–bringing her hands up to rub your shoulders comfortingly, before she tells you: 

“It doesn’t have to be real, silly!” Minjeong laughs, “Hyunjin only has to think it's real, I mean you don’t actually have to hook up with him… Unless you want toooo.” She draws out, singing the last sentence in an annoying voice. 

“Minnie!” you whisper in a faux yell.

“What?! Don’t look at me like I don’t remember the infamous truth or dare of 2024.” 

“Minnie.”

“Okay, Ms. I’d makeout with Jeongin if I had to kiss any of Hyunjin’s friends.” 

“Minnie!”

“Fine, Fine!” She laughs, “just talk to Ayen about it, and we’ll go from there okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I can’t stomach thinking that Hyunjin is out there having fun at your expense and you’re just taking it.” For one moment she looks truly sad, and you’re reminded, not for the first time, that this breakup isn’t just between you and your ex, but all your friends who have to adapt to a life that looks different 

Her eyes are comforting, but her mouth is all smirking revenge, and something about it urges you to listen. It can’t be worse than what Hyunjin’s already done, right? And it’s all pretend anyway, just a game of house where you and Jeongin hold hands at a party and go get slurpees after. None of it has to be real, you shouldn’t feel bad for giving the boy who hurt you a taste of his own medicine, right? 

So with a heart full of guilt and stomach heavy with nerves, you find yourself asking, 

“When does it start?” 

On your way out of the library you found yourself cursing Minjeong and Chaeryeong and all their evil scheming that always finds its way back to you. If only you could have listened to Felix when he told you that those girls were trouble, and that the only friends you needed were him and your childhood dog, Milo. 

When you left her, Minjeong reminded you to talk to Jeongin, told you where she thought he’d be and smiled at you the way she would a puppy. 

God, what am I doing? You ask yourself, begging some invisible entity for help with this god forsaken plan. You like Ayen just fine, but the idea of hurting Hyunjin just because he hurt you fills you with some inescapable dread. And what if Jeongin says no? What if he’s as disgusted by you as you are of yourself? What if he turns around and tells Hyunjin? 

The thoughts circle around you, haloing your form in scalding nerves until you find yourself outside of the diner Jeongin works at. You’d only ever been at night, your hand shivering within Hyunjin’s hold–so many twilights spent sitting crushed in a tiny booth, Hyunjin’s friends hollering around you and your lovers arms holding you to his heart. How different it looks in the day. 

For the first time you find yourself walking through the diner doors alone, feet shuffling onto the sticky vinyl floors and searching for Yang Jeongin’s smile. 

You find it behind the counter, warm and inviting as he asks a little boy what he wants. He looks different when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, freer than when he’s with the boys, shinier when there’s no one else’s light glaring. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile remains, but becomes that tight look of pity you’ve become so used to–a look so out of place on his pretty face, you want it gone right away. 

“Don’t look at me like, Jeongin.” You tell him, words stricter than your voice portrays. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he tells you, “but how are you doing?” 

“Better if I had a cherry coke,” You say and without another word he begins filling up a plastic cup with ice and burgundy liquid. You can’t help but watch his hands as they work, knuckles clutching around the drink tighter than what's needed–the only indication that he could be uncomfortable with you being here. “How are you doing, Ayen?” you ask him. 

“Well, not too bad,” he says, handing you the soda. “It’s not too busy today, and I don’t have any classes until tomorrow afternoon, so the day is just breezing by.” 

“Easy, breezy, beautiful!” You tell him and finally that pretty smile breaks out on his face again as he lets out a loud laugh. He tells you he’ll be right back, smiling the whole way to the rest of his patrons. 

Maybe it’s because you were dating Hyunjin before, and no other boy seemed to live up to the fairy tale you wrote about him, but for the first time you see Jeongin, not as Hyunjin’s friend but as a cute boy you could’ve met at a diner just like this. He’s boyishly handsome and sweet, giggling with the little kids and getting old ladies pie on the house. 

Maybe your friends were onto something when they offered up Jeongin as the sacrificial lamb–sweet, ever happy Jeongin. 

When he returns to you, that slightly sad smile returns to his face before he tells you: 

“I’m sorry about you and Hyunjin… I didn’t know he was gonna do that.” 

“What break up with me, or make out with a girl before the corpse is even cold?” Your voice is stronger than you meant it to be, and you feel bad as soon as you see Jeongin’s body tense–obviously surprised at your animosity. 

“Both, I haven’t talked to him in weeks,” he tells you, much to your surprise, “We– we had a fight, and I hadn’t talked to anyone but Changbin and Seungmin…” his voice is thick with tension and his jaw is tight as he tries to tell to you what happened, a sight you’d never seen from him–much more used to the happy-go-lucky Ayen of days past. “I didn’t even know you guys broke up until he posted that picture last night.” 

You’re surprised by this, of course, Jeongin and Hyunjin had always been close, but what's more surprising is how truly angry he looks… As angry as Chaeryeong and Minjeong, if not more. It’s this look that allows you to tell him, 

“I just don’t know what to do, Ayen…” 

“Whatever, I can do to help, I will… I promise.” Jeongin tells you, long fingers making you jump as they settle over your own. It’s this promise that brings you to tell him why you came–rushing out the plan your friends made for you, making sure to tell him over and over how it would just be a favor; just a way to get Hyunjin back for being a treacherous loser. 

It’s through this rant that Jeongin finally smiles again, a devious look you’ve only ever seen settle onto his face during game night, and without preamble his hold on your hand grows stronger until he says, 

“I’ll do it.” 

It’s three weeks later when you finally realize that you’d have to actually go on a date with Jeongin for this to work. In theory, you knew this would happen, knew that you couldn’t let Jeongin sit around thinking about how he agreed to piss off his friend, but putting that plan in practice is scarier than you thought it would be. 

And why? Why does Hyunjin get to ride around town happier than ever, posting that girl on his instagram story every day while you’re sitting at home crying for weeks. 

Yet, the thought of doing anything romantic (even if it was pretend) with someone else, causes frost bitten chills to cover your skin. Even if the someone else was Yang Jeongin; sweet and funny Jeongin who always took your side when the boys started teasing you, who brought you a cherry coke everyday when you had class together freshman year. Jeongin who blushed pretty pink when he heard your answer to Changbin’s truth or dare last year, Jeongin who was your friend as much as Hyunjin’s, who would put that friendship aside to do you a favor. 

You know you should call him, reprieve him from the quicksand thoughts you sure he’s buried in, but you can’t seem to latch that door to self hatred that has been held open since the night Hyunjin broke up with you. 

You can’t seem to find where everything went wrong, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to find the moment where Hyunjin stopped loving you. 

“You should stop torturing yourself you know,” You hear, and there he is standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Jeongin stands tall and handsome, leaning against the wall in a way that makes you think he has been there for a while. “You went AWOL on me, y’know, I was worried.” He’s smiling, but his words have a layer of debilitating truth that makes you a little sick. You can’t help but feel sorry for making anyone feel as bad as you do. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where to go after that last conversation we had.” 

“Well, usually when you ask someone on a date… you take them out on a date.” He smiles at you, approaching your bed the way one would approach a wounded animal–slow but sure. 

When he finally lays down next to you you’re struck by his closeness, the feel of his body heat settling over your skin and the way his cheek bones slope over his face. He’s so pretty, it’s not like you never noticed it before, but seeing him up close like this–like he’s completely under your disposal, like you’re a scientist looking at him under a microscope–you can’t help but be a little breathless. 

He’s so beautiful and he’s lying here with you. 

“What did you want to do on our date then?” you ask him, feeling braver the longer he looks at you.

When he smiles, it’s like the sun explodes–incandescent and radiant like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He tells you he doesn’t care, first dates are silly anyway, he says, before grabbing your laptop from its place on your desk and telling you to pick a movie. It’s a little nerve wracking to be with him like this, it’s odd because it’s not something inherently romantic, nor any different from something you could’ve done with him before, but the fact that he called it a “date” makes the whole thing more anxiety-inducing than you thought possible. 

This is supposed to be pretend, yet the way his arm presses against yours brings a warmth to your chest that you can’t seem to decipher. Sure, you’re a bit touched starved and the constant vulnerability you’ve felt has lent itself to a mixed bag of feelings, but the strangest thing is, nothing about his heat is confusing. It feels like the surest thing in the world to have him next to you, laughing at the stupid jokes flowing out from your computer and asking if you want to order a pizza.

This is supposed to be pretend, but it feels real–like the realest thing you’ve held in months.

“So, are you ever gonna tell me what happened with Hyune?” He finally asks you. The sun has finally eased its way into night and the blue hour has opened up the air for truth telling, you always loved this time of night… Always loved the way the soft prussian hue would fill the room, the way it could coat human skin. It’s this blue honesty that motivates you to answer him, more honest than you’ve been with anyone else, much less yourself. 

“I think It was always gonna end like this… me all alone and him surrounded by friends.” You see him gearing up to protest, so quickly you add, “I know I’m not completely alone,” you tell him, “but I loved him so much, it was all I thought about for three years. And… and he’s out there living his life like I didn’t even matter.

“He broke up with me cause he was busy, like I was just something on the to-do list too insignificant to keep.” You stop to breathe, in and out, before starting again, “I hadn’t talked to him in weeks… in the beginning I called and texted, but I never got a response so I thought I’d just give him space. Felix kept asking me where he was, y’know? Like I would know, I should have known–I wanted to know, but I had no idea. Finally, he showed up out of nowhere telling me he was sorry, how he’d been so busy–I was so stupid, I was just happy he was there at all” 

“You’re not stupid,” Jeongin tells you, but you’re not finished. 

“He–” you whisper, “He told me that he thought we should break up… said it like there was no room for arguing. I said okay… I said okay because I wanted him to shut up about how busy he was–wanted him to stop talking about his great life that I wouldn’t be a part of anymore.” 

“You’re not stupid,” He says again, stronger this time. “Hyunjin’s a fucking idiot, a selfish idiot, okay? You’re not stupid.” He brings you into his arms, holding you close enough that you can hear his heart beating wild in his chest. He smells good, like sunshine and coffee, and part of you wishes this wasn’t pretend. 

You wish you could lay here like this all the time, cuddled close to him, safe in his arms, and sure of the fact that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. 

“We’re gonna make him regret this okay, make him see what he’s missing out on.” He’s whispering to you, but it almost seems like he’s talking to himself, reassuring himself that what he’s doing is okay, “He’s an idiot, and you’re perfect–do you hear me?” he asks you, tilting your chin up to see him from your place in his hold. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“You know, when I let him in last night I didn’t think he was sleeping over,” Felix tells you, once you come back inside from walking Jeongin out. 

Truthfully, you didn’t think he was going to sleep over either, yet the feeling of his arms around was so deeply comforting you’re glad he didn’t leave. You’d spent all night talking, going over your plan to make Hyunjin jealous, but that wasn’t all you’d talked about. Jeongin told you all sorts of things to make you laugh: secrets and stories, other peoples and his own. 

You spent all night telling each other things you’d never told anyone else, and for once you’d woken up happy. Strangely, it wasn’t awkward disentangling yourself from him–it was almost normal, even sharing the sink to brush your teeth felt like you’d done it a million times over before. 

No, it wasn’t awkward at all–that is until Felix woke up and found you together in your room. 

“Listen, Felix, it’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, so you’re not dating Jeongin to make Hyunjin jealous?” He asks, looking at with with a skeptical glimpse in his eye. 

“Well, I guess it’s exactly what you think,” you pause, “wait, how did you guess that?” 

“You’re not the only one friends with Minejeong and Chaery, sweet pea.” he tells you, stirring honey into two cups of tea. 

You’re not surprised the girls blabbed, especially not to Felix–the boy has too much of an angelic face to lie too–However, they should know better than to expose you to your oldest friend. Felix, has always been your best friend, your soulmate in all definitions, and because of this he is chronically worrying over you and your wellbeing. Hyunjin had been his friend, closest to him only second to you and Chris, and the way Hyune treated you at the end was such a deep betrayal to Felix’s sense of friendship that he is grown even more annoyingly protective in the past weeks. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix” 

“Obviously I do, I take my hands off the wheel for one minute and suddenly you’re in bed with Innie.” 

“I was not IN BED with him, we just slept.” 

“Yeah, okay, just don’t get pregnant. Yeah? I’m not old enough to be the dad that stepped up.” 

“FELIX!” you yell, but all you hear is laughter, deep happy laughter that has been unfamiliar in your usually joyful apartment. You can’t help but feel guilty, even though it isn’t your fault. You wish everything could be normal–wish with every piece of your soul that life would go back to how it was. 

You didn’t need Hyunjin to be in love with you, but you wished that your friends could go back to how they were three months ago, happy and normal and free. 

You love Felix, you love Minjeong and Chaeryeong, and the thought of them being as cut up about this as you, breaks your heart. 

“You know I love you, right?” You tell Felix when he’s done laughing to himself, and the way he looks at you–rolling eyes and all tells you all you need to know. 

“I love you too, sweet pea…” He smiles, “but wear protection.”

The diner is busy and your friends can’t seem to shut up. 

“OH MY GOD!!! He keeps looking at you!” Minjeong cries, happy as a clam in her little white sundress. The weather has finally warmed up and with it sundress season has finally arrived, a fact that Ayen seemed to be especially happy about when he saw you in one of your own.

It’s just pretend, you tell yourself, even though you can’t help but blush when Minjeong whispers, “there he goes again, ohmygoodness!”

“Minnie, it’s not like that it’s just–” 

“It’s just pretend!” Chaery and Minnie sing together, mimicking the phrase you’ve told them over and over again for the past month. 

That first sleepover became dinner and movie every Friday, which became study sessions on Sunday when you began falling behind, and lunch at the diner every Tuesday so he could see you before his schedule got too busy. Yet, you still hadn’t gone out–out, a problem that has wrapped itself around you like an ugly sweater, the whole reason you’re pretending to date is to make Hyunjin jealous, but you haven’t gone anywhere that he’d see you two at. Not too mention, any insta post the two you have been in together isn’t so overtly romantic that one could believe you’re together–In conclusion, the two you are pretending to date for no one but each other, so does that make it not pretend? 

“It is just pretend, and you guys know that.” you tell them a bit meaner than you meant. 

“Okay, okay…” Chaery says, “but you should remind him of that, cause Minnie’s right: he really has looked over here like seven times in the last thirty seconds.” 

“It’s just because you guys are here,” you say, but even you sound unconvinced. “Anyway he’s probably just worried because we’re going to the party tonight, which will take this little plan of yours from 1 to 100” 

“Girly I love you, but him sleeping in your bed every weekend is what took the plan to 100” Minnie sassed. 

You want to admonish her, but she was right, you should never have let each other break this many boundaries. You should’ve had rules, should have watched To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before together and knew what would come of this fake dating nonsense your friends came up with. But you’ve gotten so used to him, fallen so far into friendship that the idea of him not being around physically hurts you. 

You catch him looking at you again, a soft smile on his lips as he asks someone their order, when your eyes meet he winks at you, silly and sweet just like him. You laugh and smile bigger than your friends have seen you in months, and if you were paying attention you would have seen the two girls share a look so obviously judgmental it would have warranted a slap. 

“Yeah, just pretend my ass.”

The night is just beginning and the party is in full force when you arrive, hand in hand with your “boyfriend,” You’d dolled yourself up for the occasion: tight shirt, miniskirt, and all that jazz, and when Jeongin picked you up he blushed so red you thought you might’ve had a fever. 

The party is already wild as soon as you step foot inside, people chatting and dancing, girls who must’ve just met singing Brittany together as it rings out from the stereo. You find yourself cramped in between bodies, Jeongin’s hand being the only lifeline in the sea of humans–more than once, you feel eyes on the two you, old friends looking on in confusion as you hold the hand of the wrong guy, yet you feel more at ease here with Ayen than you ever did before. 

When you finally arrive in the kitchen, unscathed except for a few wrinkles in your tiny skirt, Jeongin makes you a drink and compliments you again on your outfit. He’s called you pretty five times tonight: Once when he picked you up, two times in the car, right before you walked in, and now he’s saying it again. Each time the words emerge from his lips they sound a little braver, like he’s more sure of himself every time you say thank you. 

He looks absolutely divine tonight himself–when he took his jacket off in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing hotter at the sight of his arms in the tight white tee he picked for the occasion.  More annoyingly he seemed to know and relish in your admiration, he seems more confident tonight, cocky in a way that wouldn’t be so  attractive if it wasn’t him. 

When he hands you the drink, hands tight on the plastic cup just like the first time, his empty hand immediately goes to your waist. His touch, familiar and pleasant, eases you into the corner–forcing you to be close to him in ways you’ve only been in private. A part of you feels insecure, like he’s only doing this to show off the people around you, but one look into his smiling eyes tells you he wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He tells you again–that’s six, “So so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky I am, even if this is all pretend… I’m so so lucky to be here with you.” It stings a little, the truth of this being pretend, but you can’t help but agree, you really are so so lucky to have each other. 

His hand moves away from your waist, moving up, up, up, until it reaches your clavicle–fingers fanning out to touch your collarbones, his ring finger gently brushing over the skin. He’s not so much as looking at you as looking into you, almost like he’s trying to see into your ribcage and decide if he can fit in there too. His intensity is burning, chipping away at your composure not unlike pick into stone. His hands are so soft, fluttering against you in curiosity, like he can’t believe he gets to touch you–feel you under his force and mold you into him. Your eyes are fluttering shut, influenced by the alcohol and his hands and the way he thinks you’re beautiful. 

Too comfortable for a kitchen counter, especially not your own, his movements are even more dangerous when he is reminded the two of you are not alone. 

“Innie!” You hear a voice familiar and grating in your current predicament, Jeongin’s hands stop their curious journey, but he does not move away from you–if anything he draws you closer, protecting you from whomever would dare rip you away from peace. 

Changbin is shining as always, happy and handsome, like he has always been, but seeing him here is not a welcome surprise. You’re still upset you never heard from him after the breakup, sure he was Hyunjin’s friend first, and he doesn’t truly owe you any loyalty, yet it still hurts after three years of friendship to be dropped by 50% of your friends.

“Oh, hey,” he says when he notices it’s you and not some random girl here with the younger boy. “It’s been awhile, I’ve missed you–both of you.” You can see him observing your position–you, encompassed by Jeongin, huddling close into his chest… Ayen rubbing his hand up and down your back. It's clear what the closeness means, and Changbin who has claimed to know exactly what's going on with Jeongin at any given time, feels a little hurt that he didn’t know this. 

“So are you guys like, together?” he questions, “Does Hyunie Know?” 

“I don’t know and I don’t care, Hyung” Jeongin answers, “and yeah, we’ve been together for a little while now,” 

“A little while…” Changbin whispers to himself, and you almost feel bad for the mental gymnastics he must be putting himself through to explain the timeline of your so-called relationship.  “And you’re happy? I mean you look happy, so you must be right?” he asks. 

“Yes, we’re happy” you say, before even thinking about it. And it’s true–you are happy. Happier than you’ve been in months, here at this party with Ayen. His hands are warm on your skin and his smile is alive, and you’ve never been happier than here in this moment, sharing your body heat in a random kitchen. 

“Very Happy,” Jeongin agrees, looking down at you with a big smile, and your heart bursts at his agreement. “Well, hyung if you excuse us, my girl wanted to dance.” Did you? You ask yourself, but you see his urging look and decide to go with it. You do want to dance–you would do anything to stay this close to him, even if that means going back to the cramped sea of people in the living room.

It’s hot, and you can feel him everywhere—hands on your waist, brushing against your tummy, running through your hair. You’re breathless at his touch, breathing him in as your bodies move together in time to the song. You feel so alive, sticky with sweat; skin on fire where the two of you meet. 

The music is deafening, miscellaneous pop songs mashed up together to get everyone dancing. It’s devious and devilish, a dionysian madness that has infected you down to your bones. You wonder if he’ll take you upstairs, ravish you bloody and leave you wanting more more more. The way he’s looking at you–looming and predatory like a God searching for a devotee–sears your skin, scorches a brand onto the small of your back where his belt buckle digs into you. 

It’s all pretend, but it doesn’t have to be, not when he’s looking at you like that.

Your friends got here an hour ago, sharing shots with you and trying not to give each other “I told you so” looks when they saw Jeongin’s hand sit lower and lower on your hips than they would deem platonic. You can remember Felix laughing at you when the third shot went all over your top instead of down your throat, and the way Minjeong triple-dogged dared you to pound down some Apple Crown even though she knows it always makes you sick. You can remember how happy they all looked, Chaeryeong’s hips swaying as she danced with you and Lix, laughing deep into her belly. 

You can remember all of this, but you can’t seem to remember getting here… Can’t seem to find the moment where Jeongin’s touches went from casual to burning. 

The alcohol found its way into your system quickly, warming your tummy and your heart—intoxicating you with the notion that maybe all of this could be real in the morning, as Jeongin’s hands tighten on your waist. You feel his head dipping, lips sliding over your neck, his tongue lighting fires along your skin. He feels the rumble of your moan, feels the way you draw into him and sigh—your hands, delicate and lovely clutching at his jacket. 

“Let me take you home,” he’s saying, begging, pleading. He wants to be alone with you, wants to play pretend somewhere private, somewhere where it doesn’t have to be a game. 

You find yourself nodding, turning around in his hold so you can look at him, still so devastating through the hysteria. His eyes meet yours, so lovely in the dark room, and slowly his hands reach up to push the hair out of your face. 

“So beautiful.” He says, matter of fact. 

His hands linger, settling on your jaw, before slowly, achingly so, bringing your lips to his. He doesn’t kiss you at first, just brings you close enough so he’s breathing your air—almost like he’s giving you CPR, breathing life into a dying body—until finally he is kissing you, and taking all that life back.

The feel of him, the taste of him–is too much to bear. His hands are still clutching at you, holding onto your face and your neck, fingers leaving indents on the most vulnerable parts of you. 

He’s everywhere, he’s everything, he’s come alive. 

He tastes like the apple crown he took with you, sweet and sour–a taste you’ve only ever associated with sickness, yet when it’s dripping from Jeongin’s Tongue all it causes is euphoria. 

“Let’s go home,” He’s saying again, pushing the words against your lips, and you find yourself nodding again–kissing his jaw as he pulls away. 

“We,” you begin, a little breathless, “We have to go tell Felix, or he’ll break down my door to make sure I’m still alive.” 

The way Jeongin looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the room, shakes you down to your core. He’s grinning, wide and mercilessly, but his eyes hold that same mischief they carried the day he agreed to do this with you. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He asks you, before taking your hand and pulling you through the sea once again.

You finally find your friend in the backyard, fairy lights glinting off his cheekbones. Felix is always handsome–impish and charming–but there’s something about his face now that sets the visage apart. Rather than the joyous expression you left him with, he looks angry… Angrier than you’ve ever seen him, (except for the time you misplaced your friendship necklace in fourth grade), he’s not yelling or bursting with volatility, but there’s something about his form that reminds you of a grenade. He’s so still, his body tense and eyes steely. 

The haze of your previous euphoria clouds your mind enough to make you wonder what’s going on–the picture being so out of place, your intoxicated mind can’t seem to make sense of it. Jeongin’s hand squeezes your hand tighter, and suddenly the painting comes together–there he is, standing in front of Felix, saving all of the volatility for himself. 

Hyunjin is beautiful, even now, standing tall and angry like an archangel. You knew you’d see him here, had planned on it even, but seeing him like this is so daunting. He’s beautiful and terrible, and as you watch him yell at your best friend–who is only ever good–you can’t seem to conjure up that love you always felt for him. 

You can feel Jeongin holding you back, his gentle hands holding onto your intertwined fingers tighter than normal, and when you look up at him his face urges you stay with him,--to leave with him like you planned, but even he can’t stop the current from bringing you towards the Conflict. 

With one last look at Jeongin, you find yourself walking away from him and towards the boy who broke your heart.

When you approach the boys you can finally hear their voices, angry and insistent. They’re being drowned out by hushed refrains of “c’mon guys!” that you think must be coming from Chris and Minho from their place behind the two boys. Hyunjin’s voice cuts through, “Can’t you just fuck off? God!” he’s groaning, and suddenly you’re rushing forward.

“What the hell is going on?” You cry, alerting the boys to your presence. The noise stops almost immediately as they look at you, shocked that you would be a witness to this outburst, as if it was something private you just stumbled into and not in the middle of a party. There are people scattered along the patio, some you know and some you don’t, but they’re all looking at you–waiting for something good to happen. 

Yet, The only person you’re looking at is Hyunjin–he’s shaking with anger, but his eyes are so sad. It’s an unwelcome sight, no matter how angry you are with him, to see him so clearly devastated. He looks different up close, all the signs of anger from far away slip into sadness the closer you get to him. 

When you turn to look at Felix, you can see that he’s crying–oh your emotional boys, they could never feel anything by half. “So?!” you ask again, “What the fuck is happening?” 

“Just go,” Felix tells you, not unkindly. 

“What? Now, she can’t talk to me?” Hyunjin throws at him, before looking at you and smiling–It’s so out of place on his angry face, a smile so heavenly it used to bring you to peace. Now, all you feel is disappointment. 

“Nothings wrong, sweetheart,” he tells you, the old nickname making you flinch. “Me and Felix are just talking, you can go back with your boyfriend.” The smile is still on his face, yet the words are venomous. 

The reference to Jeongin, snaps you out of reality. Of course, you knew what you were doing by coming here with him… Knew that this was the whole point, to get him back! But being here, seeing the hurt you knowingly caused, doesn’t make you feel good–just sad. 

“Can you just fuck off already?” Felix asks, his words coated in a thunderous anger. “Leave her alone, it’s none of your fucking business what she’s doing,” 

“More like who she’s doing,” Hyunjin says, still smiling at you like this all one big joke, but you know him–you know everything about his heart, the sound of its beat, the amount of time it pounds against his chest when he’s upset about something. It hurts you that he’s acting like this, pretending what you’re doing means nothing to him, even when it so obviously does. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” You hear from behind you, Jeongin’s hands catching yours into his hold and subtly rubbing at your knuckles. You thought he left, hoped he wouldn’t, but thought he did… How grateful you are that he’s still here, next to you and holding your hand like nothing is different than it was twenty minutes ago. 

“Oh, I’m Pathetic?!” Hyunjin cries, staring at where your and Jeongin hands meet. “I’m Pathetic?” he asks again, “You’re the one whose fucking my girlfriend, and I’m pathetic?” He laughs out, an ugly mean thing that brings tears to your eyes. 

All the boys start to yell at him now, telling him to fuck off, that that was too far… But you can’t seem to find your voice. Can’t seem to be able to conjure up any sentence that would accurately portray how you feel–how angry you are, how deeply cut you are that Hyunjin would be doing this.

 How could he do this to you again? How could he suck out all the air in the room every time you see him. 

The noise is rushing back up, people trying to get both Felix and Hyunjin to calm down, and all the while Jeongin is shaking his head and rubbing the stress out of your palms. 

You feel nothing but sadness… 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” You whisper, just loud enough for the group to hear you. 

“What?” Hyunjin asks. 

“I’m not your girlfriend, Hyunjin… I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.” You tell him, you can hear him say your name–see him begin to protest, but before he can start, you say again  “I’m not your girlfriend, and you have no right to yell at anyone, not when  you’re the one who fucked everything up.” 

You see him take a deep breath, try to steady himself before he says, 

“C’mon, Sweetheart, don’t do this right now…”

“Me don’t do this?!” You cry, “Are you even listening to yourself?!” Your tears are falling freely now, catching onto your lips. The salty taste is ruining the sweetness of Jeongin, obstructing all the life he gave. “I can’t believe you, seriously–you should go,” 

Hyunjin says your name again, pleading for you to listen to him, but you don’t want to… you can’t, all that is doing is causing you deep aches inside your soul where all your forgotten love resides. 

“Leave her alone, Hyunjin.” Jeongin speaks up, his hold on you becoming more protective as the moment goes on–standing taller and taller as if to hide you from your ex’s view. “Just go home, nothing’s gonna be fixed while you’re like this.” 

Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue again, but one look at his friends makes him stand down, before he walks away–Minho leading him back into the house with an apologetic look at you and a nod to Jeongin. When Chris passes you, he smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and that's what does it–that's what brings you to full on sobs, the thought of Chris being even a little disappointed in you. 

“Come on, let's just go home…” Felix tells you, tear tracks still shining on his pretty face. 

“I don’t want to be with you right now,” You tell him. You can hear him try to complain, try to tell you that he was defending you, but you don’t want to hear it. Everytime you look at him, all you see is Hyunjin standing there and looking at you like you were nothing. You just can’t seem to get past the frustration that Felix couldn’t just walk away, even if Hyunjin was being an asshole. 

“Listen, I love you, okay? I don’t know what happened, and honestly I don’t care, I’ll talk to you in the morning, I promise… but I can’t do it anymore.” You whisper, looking anywhere but at your best friend. Lovely Felix, who only ever wants you to be happy. He’s so sad, soul crushed and bleeding, but he understands. Understands in that way he always does, so without anything more than a nod he walks away, pressing his hand to your shoulder as he passes. 

The world is quiet for a moment, dark and honest like you like it, here alone with Jeongin again. All the prior heat is gone, all of intensity leaving the air as soon as everyones gone, and all that remains is Jeongin’s hand in yours and his dark eyes looking down at you. 

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?” He whispers, and before you can resist, he’s pulling you through the night.

The diner is achingly familiar in the midnight hour, walking through the doors holding a different boy's hand than all those times before. The warm air is a comfort after trekking through the cold, abandoning the car for a night time walk through the city. 

Jeongin’s hand never left yours, holding you like a wounded bird. You can’t seem to wonder what he must think of you, sullen and sad–what if he doesn’t want you anymore? Now that your heart is shining on your face. 

He leads you into the restaurant, smiling at his coworkers behind the counter and ordering two cherry cokes. When you go to sit down, he sits on the same side of the booth as you, corralling you into his arms once again. You’re all cried out, can’t seem find it in yourself to let anymore of the pesky tears escape, but when he brings you into him–so close you can hear his heart beating, just as wild as the first time you listened to its song–you can’t help but feel like you need to cry again. 

You’re quiet for a long time, listening to each other's breath and sipping on your sugary drink. Your head isn’t cloudy anymore, your heart is no longer so sad… It’s nice, sitting here with him; having a front row seat to his life passing before you. He’s a little awkward, fidgeting with his soda straw and tapping his foot. He’s waiting for you to say something, giving you space and time to break the silence yourself. 

“You don’t have to be so quiet, y’know” You tell him, your voice scratchy from crying. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to scare you,” Jeongin responds, his arm moving its way up your sleeve and into your hair. “It was so loud before, I wanted to give you some quiet.” 

You can’t help but swoon, can’t help but love the boy in front of you–how sweet he is, how thoughtful. For weeks now, you’ve sat here with him like this–sharing space and time, loving him as a friend before anything else–perfect and pretend. 

“You don’t have to worry about me, Innie… I’m stronger than I look.” 

“I’ll always worry about you.” He says, with such honesty that it takes your breath away. 

Jeongin thinks you’re radiant. Has thought so, since the very first time he saw you–snuggled into his friend and laughing at some stupid joke. He’s cared for you longer than you know, longer than he should have… but seeing you here now, holding onto him like he’s the only thing you have… It breaks his heart in two. He wants you to be okay, wants to wrap you up and keep you safe until the storm passes. 

Jeongin doesn’t know when this became real, if it was real on the dancefloor, when he was kissing you and his world stopped. Was it real when you were being yelled at? Or has it been real since that moment in your room? The moment when he saw your heart open up for the first time. He doesn’t know, and honestly he can’t find it in himself to care–Who gives a fuck when it started? It’s real now. 

He is worried about you, that much is true… How could he not, with your makeup ruined and your lip still trembling. You’re still so beautiful, but there's something so very innocent in the way you’re looking at him, like all you want is for him to keep you safe. 

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time now, honey” He tells you, the pet name sweet on his tongue and warm in your ears. “It’s why I hadn’t talked to Hyunjn even before you guys broke up–” He stops to take a deep breath, to look out into the night before he starts again, “You’ve always been so alive, and in the end… every time I saw you with him… you just looked so sad.” 

You try to remember, try to think about the last time you saw him at a get together before you and Hyunjin broke up, but you can’t. Those memories hidden behind months of trying to act like nothing was wrong, like Hyunjin still loved you–like you were happier than ever. 

“I don’t remember seeing you,” You say, “I’m sorry.” 

“I was always seeing you, even before I was supposed to.” 

Oh your darling boy, sweet like candy and so so honest. It strikes you that everything you’ve done all night has gone past pretend, that this boy in front of you might as well truly be your boyfriend. When you think this, all the dread lifts away–seeping out of your bones and washing away as his eyes smile down at you. 

He knows, you think, he knows exactly what you’re thinking–it’s never been pretend, hasn’t been since the minute he stood in your doorway and held you while you slept. 

“You’re everything.” he whispers, and his smile is a thousand suns.

“HE SAID WHAT?!” Minjeong yells.

The morning after the party has been a whole thing. Waking up in your bed with Jeongin smiling down at you, cuddled together in your party clothes, peaceful until Minjeong and Chaeryeong burst in to interrogate you about what happened. 

You’re not sure how they got in, even less sure if you want to ask, but they're here now: cuddled up next to you and shoving Ayen out of bed with instructions to make you all coffee. 

“Minnie, I already told you–Hyune was a dick face and made me and Felix cry.” You tell her. 

“That fucking guy, I can’t believe you guys cried… I would’ve just slapped him.” She says, much to the chagrin of you and Chaeryeong. 

“You would not have slapped him, Min.” Chaery says, rolling her eyes as Minjeong insists she would have. 

You find yourself giggling to yourself, laughing at how horrible everything was, and how funny it is now. Last night was horrific, but sitting here with your girls you really see how ridiculous the whole thing was–Hyunjin called you his girlfriend! How silly is that? 

“What are you laughing about, sweet pea?” Felix asks–he’s standing in your doorway, smiling but sullen. Anxiously waiting for an invitation into the room, holding some of the coffee’s Jeongin must’ve made. It hurts you to think about him sitting up all night and waiting for you to forgive him, as if you could ever stay mad at him. 

“Oh nothing, just how ridiculous we all are,” you laugh. “Why are you still standing over there, come on!”  Felix’s smile is incandescent, brighter than you remember it being, and he quickly bounds over to you and the girls. Giggling about how much he missed you even though its only truthfully been a couple hours. 

When Jeongin finally comes back, coffee in his hand and carrying around that 1000 watt smile, you can’t help but feel like everything is right in the world; here in your bed, with all the people you love most in the world… nothing pretend about it. 

The morning is alive and sweet with friendship–Felix and the girls teasing you about Jeongin, and laughing as your face heats up.You can feel him smiling at you, you can feel the heat of his stare soaking into your skin like the sunrise. It’s a tether to reality, the proof that you didn’t make anything up… You’re everything, he said, and what a lovely thing that is–to be so intrinsic to him and his life that that's the only way he can describe you. 

He’s your everything too. 

You find yourself smiling at the thought, closing your eyes in bliss, you can almost hear your heart beating–louder and louder as reality sets in. It’s all real: him, you, this. You can almost see the future, prophetic daydreams passing over your eyelids of what is to come–more of this, of course, but also more–more, more, more. You can see him, laughing in the sun, kissing you under the stars, singing your favorite songs. It will be perfect, lovely and real, and everything. 

When your eyes open, you see Chaeryeong smiling at you–looking at you like she can see every thought buried inside your heart. She loves you, you know that, but seeing her know you can feel it too. How you love her too, even with her silly jokes and mischievous plans. Her eyes flit to where Jeongin’s hand holds yours raising her eyebrows in that familiar way, and she tells you,

“Just pretend my ass,”

It killed your heart that you weren't with him on such an important day as this. You knew how stressed he was and how much he was overworking himself, and you tried to be there for him as much as you could, but you only could do so much when your work was an absolute nightmare and gave you task after task to do. Honestly, you would quit if you could, but that would be just unreasonable from your side right now so you had to calm yourself down. However, you were really pissed that you had to miss everything because of this too. You had to jump out of your skin and overwork yourself to the bone so that you could arrive at Osaka at the same day as the first day of MAMA awards, and this was the best you could do. Fortunately for you you saw their performance before the flight, you missed the rest of the show but you were grateful you saw their performance. You would really hate it if you both missed the chance watch it live there and also on your phone. You also pitied everyone on the same plane as you, because they had to deal with and tolerate your whole obsessed fan persona. You wouldn't be surprised if you ended up on social media as a some type of crazy lady.

As soon as you walked out of the airport you caught a taxi and immediately went to the bakery Innie and boys were talking about earlier, everyone was talking about it earlier and the boys said they wanted to try it out themselves. You were sure they would appreciate the gesture after a long tiring day. You hoped you could reach the bakery before it closed, it was quite late after all.

It seemed that the lady Luck was on your side, because you reached it right before it was about to close and bought everything they had left, pointing first at the small cake that basically screamed Innie's name. You thanked the shop owner million times and left the place with the most satisfied smile ever.

You sat in the taxi again which was waiting by the shop patiently, you thanked the driver for waiting and took out your phone. You had left it on airplaine mode, no wonder there were zero notifications. You turned it off and let's just say your phone almost exploded from the amount of notifications. The internet must have gone crazy about the performance. Could you blame them tho?! What shocked you was that there were at least ten missed calls from Chan and countless messages from him. He was an absolute angel and despite hectic schedule he helped you a lot with your surprise. It was unusual for him to call this much tho... Did something happen? You quickly took your earphones and dialed his nimber, and as you waited you decided to see the notifications. Your heart dropped to the ground when you saw the article with the bold headline that IN from stray kids had fainted at the end of the performance. How could you not notice? Was he okay? What happened? What caused this? Chan had not finished saying hello when you dramatically asked "How is he?" Chan sighed, "Chan what happened how is he?" "Doctor said that he should be fine, he's in his room to rest, we're at the hotel now. He won't come out tho. Doctor said it was because he's malnourished, we made him eat but he refuses to talk." He sounded exhausted, which pulled your heartstrings, you knew him, he was surely blaming himself for this. You tried to talk, to soothe him, but he didn't let you "I thought he looked pale, but he said that he was just nervous and he got all wobbly at the end, I thought he was just tired but the next second he was falling and I barely managed to catch him. I should have noticed, I'm sorry..." You sighed, "it's not your fault Chan, I know you're the leader and you feel responsible but it isn't your fault okay? I will talk to him, I will make him talk to me. I'm almost there, can you come down and get me?" You tried to calm him, and you did need help getting in the hotel and past their security. Chan agreed and hang up. You sighed and watched the clip couple more times, he did look pale and like he had lost some weight. What was he even thinking? You were going to give him piece of your mind! Of course after you made sure he was okay. You felt beyond worried, you couldn't wait to see him. You felt guilty you couldn't be there for him, damn your work, maybe you could've prevented this by being there for him and looking after him.

You quickly gathered your things as soon as the taxi stopped, Chan was already outside, he greeted you and helped you with yout luggage. He was in a big hoodie and face mask so that people wouldn't recognize him. He gave you a sad smile once you took out everything and the driver left, you smiled back and went in for a hug. "I am so going to scold him after I see that he's all good. How dare he make you worry like that?! You are my best friend since forever, I've known you for way longer than him, and he worrys you like this, I can already see new gray hairs. Don't you worry Channie I will talk some sense to him." You joked to lift the mood as you softly patted his back, Chan let out an airy chuckle, he was smiling but it didn't really reach his eyes.

He led you inside the hotel and meanwhile talked to you about how Innie basically locked himself into the room as soon as they got here. They tried to talk to him but Innie basically shrugged them off, saying he was tired and that he wanted to sleep. They knew he wasn't asleep based on how they could hear him huffing and walking around all worked up. At some point Minho got mad and threatened to knock the door down if he didn't talk to them but even that didn't work. So here they were feeling helpless that they couldn't do anything.

In a minute or two, you were in front of Jeongin's room. Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin were still in the hallway chatting. All of them came to you and excitedly hugged you when they saw you. Chan quickly shushed them, warning them that it was a surprise. You told all of them how proud of them you were, how you loved the performance and how you basically watched it trillion times. You then gave them the baked goods you had gotten, leaving the tiny box with a little cake to give Innie.

Chan said that he would give you some time, and led the boys into Seungmin's room. His room became today's hangout spot. He also told you to call him or text him if you needed anything, you gave him a reassuring smile, pointing that you've got it, he returned the smile and walked away with boys who gave you thumbs up and encouraging words.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. You were met with silence so you tried again. "I told you that I wanted to sleep!" You hear Innie groan out. "It's me Innie." You decided to uncover yourself and waited for a response. After a couple of seconds you softly called out his name again, unsure if he heard you.

You heard soft thuds and in a second you were face to face with your boyfriend who immediately engulfed you in a hug. You quickly leaned into it and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. Feeling content at finally being next to him. You missed him too much, you felt horrible you couldn't come to him sooner.

You snuggled him more and that's when you felt it. His body was way more warm than usual. To confirm your suspicions you leaned back much to his protest and put your lips on his forehead. You were proven right immediately, he was basically burning up and his skin was damp from sweat. You gently held his face between your hands and carefully examined him. He was clearly pale, he had also lost weight, it was apparent, his cheeks were more sunken, his eyes were bloodshot and he had dark eyebags. His skin was covered in thin layer of sweat yet he still was lightly shivering. The sight broke your heart.

You led him inside his room and carefully closed the door. If he didn't feel ready to see boys yet you were going to respect that. You led him to the bed and sat him down. He was in some sweats and the Hoodie you had gotten him, so you told him to get under the covers while you looked for the first aid kit. You found electronic thermometer and quickly went to him. You were right he had a high fever. You quickly got up to get water and other stuff but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist softly. You obliged and sat next to him on the bed, he was still shivering despite being under cover.

"How are you feeling sunshine, do you want anything?" You asked as softly as you could as you waved your fingers through his hair, he immediately leaned into the touch. He looked really tired.

"I'm glad you're here. I really missed you. By the look on your face I'm guessing you saw the clip." He sighed out after few seconds.

"Yeah... how are you feeling now? Please tell me the truth." You gently took his hand with your other one that wasn't scratching his scalp.

"I don't know tired, I feel like I could sleep for days." He sighed and rubbed his face, his eyes were even more red when he let go. "Are they still outside?" He couldn't even look you in the eyes, you sighed.

"They're in Seungmin's room, they're really worried baby." You spoke with a soft voice, "I think you should talk to them."

"I know." His voice was defeated.

"What's the issue then? Please talk to me I want to help."

"I don't know. I know they're just worried about me, but I feel guilty." He turned to you and held your hand, he almost always did that, especially when he was feeling nervous or stressed. His hand always found yours and held it tightly. Either that or he played with your fingers. "It's just, they already treat me like a baby, I feel like I've given then even more reason to do so because I'm incompetent and can't even take care of myself. I feel like I let them down."

Hearing this broke your heart. "Innie baby, there's no way they're dissapointed with you. They're just really worried about you, Chan looked stressed out of his mind, boys were literally waiting outside your room because they're worried and all they want to know that you're okay. And let me just tell you, they baby you because you're adorable like that. I also have this unsatiable urge sometimes so, so strong to I don't know pamper you and give you everything in the whole wide world. It's because I love you and boys do it too because they love and appreciate you. It really hurts my heart that you're being this hard on yourself." Jeongin looked into your eyes, he looked like he was about to cry.

"Can we cuddle?" How could you say no to him? You immediately got under the covers and straddled him close to your body. He immediately looked more content the second his head laid on your chest. You slid your fingers through his hair again and resumed massaging his scalp.

"Baby, your fever is high, you need to take some medicine. How about we ask the boys to get you some, and while they get it you can eat some cake I bought you and drink water? I don't want you to take meds on empty stomach. How does that sound?"

"I feel guilty asking boys that..." He grumbled and hid his face into your chest you couldn't help but smile at his cute antics.

"Nonsense, I'm telling you they just want to hear how you're doing. Also you have to attend second day of the MAMA awards, you need to be in a good shape, we can't have you go with a fever. We need to take care of that." You waited for a few seconds but the answer didn't come. "How about I text them this, and I will get the meds, and you can talk to them whenever you feel ready? But I think you shouldn't make them wait that long." You tried to reason, you understood that Jeongin felt guilty and had many mixed feelings right now, but you also understood rest of them, they were just worried, it was unfair to them, they didn't do anything wrong.

"I will talk to them." Jeongin sighed, clearly feeling nervous but you reassured him that you were with him. You facetimed Channie who picked after the first ring. Everyone was at Seungmin's room and immediately started bawling at Innie how they missed him and how they were worried. They bombarded him with tons of questions, both reasonable ones and chaotic ones, basically, they were being themselves.

Innie explained to them that he was feeling fine and that he was sorry for making them worry. Boys quickly reassured him that they were good. Chan still seemed to worry as he noticed that Innie still looked really pale even on camera. You explained to him that he had a fever. Boys immediately volunteered to get him some meds, and if there were anything else he wanted. Your boyfriend shyly explained that he was fine.

Chan said that he would be there quickly with meds and other stuff. And he was good on his wordsm. In a few minutes all of them were by your door and gave you a huge packet of medicine and various snacks. They basically tackled Innie into a crushing hug much to his protest, your boyfriend kept whining that he might get them sick, but none of them seem to care. Your boyfriend also seemed rejoiced to have them near, not that he would admit it.

After talking for a while and them acting like a worried mother hens they resolved everything, Innie ate the cake you bought and some other snacks and also drank medicine. He already seemingly looked better. Soon after they all left you to go to sleep. All of them basically warned you one by one to call them if you needed anything. You wished them goodnight and here you were now, cuddled in bed together. Both of you changed into your pyjamas and held each other close, content with being by each others side. Your one hand softly scratched his scalp, while the other stroked his back as he laid on your chest and listened to your heartbeat.

"I'm really glad you're here, I know I don't say it enough but I really love you." You smiled at him and kissed his eyebrow.

"Is this rare soft Innie moment? The fever must've got to you, you're going all soft." Your boyfriend scoffed but didn't really protest much. You placed couple of more kisses on his cheek. "I love you too baby." You leaned in and pecked his lips, his lips immediately chased you. Oh so he was in an affectionate mood. Good for you. You leaned in and started littering his face with kisses. "Have I told you lately how breathtaking you look?" Innie shook his head, he looked at you with unsure eyes. You smiled at him warmly and softly pecked his lips. "I swear only you can manage to look this handsome even while sick. You even look hot all flushed up and pale. Don't take it as an invitation to neglect your health tho. You look most handome and beautiful when you're all healthy and well." You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes which looked at you expectantly, so warm and so full of love. You couldn't help but place another kiss on his slightly chapped but still oh so soft lips. "I feel like I don't say enough, probably because you're sassy enough, but, I want you to know that I think you're the most beautiful person ever." You noticed that Jeongin looked flushed for all new reasons now and it was a green light for you to continue.

"I didn't believe that there could be something ideal, perfect, something that's universally ideal doesn't exist. Perfection is like a scam and doesn't exist. However, at the same time, whenever I look at you I think that this is what perfection looks like. I absolutely adore and love your otherworldly handsome appearance, I love your eyes," you placed soft kisses on his eyelids," I love your nose, "another kiss ok the tip of his nose, "I absolutely adore your pretty lips," you softly kissed him, he was absolutely putty in your hands and looked at you with awestruck gaze, "I love love love your dimples," you made sure to kiss both of them when you saw them appear from his smile, it made you smile in return. "I love your cheeks." You littered kisses on both of them, noticing that Jeongin's hand migrated on your waist and held you tight against him.

"Don't you think they look swollen a little? I feel like I've put on some weight." Jeongin shyly admitted which made you frown.

"Is this why you didn't eat?" The absence of answer confirmed your suspicion. You sighed and held his face gently in you hand, Jeongin looked guilty but he looked at you when you asked him to. "Listen, all I want is for you to feel comfortable. If you feel like you want to lose some weight I will support you, as long as you do it safely and don't starve yourself like you did now. It's your body and whatever you want to do with it is your choice, I will support your any decision as long as it doesn't put you in danger." You bought him closer and kissed his lips then his forehead. "I've never thought your cheeks looked swollen or anything of that kind. You looked healthy and well for me, now it feels like you're skin and bones. You're handsome don't get me wrong, but you look drained. I just want you to prioritise your health okay?" Jeongin nodded, his eyes watered up again, you gently wiped away his tears and kissed his face all over again, smiling when you noticed that the corners of his lips lifted up and you were greeted with your favourite dimples.

"Okay, I love you." Jeongin muttered against your lips before sealing them together. It was your turn to become all putty. You tried to return the kiss with the same passion as your boyfriend put in, you felt like melting, Your limbs felt like jello and your heart was soaring in your ribcage. You felt surrounded by him, all your senses were overflowing. You didn't think that he had remotely any idea about the chokehold he had over you and how bad you were obsessed over him. Honestly it was beyond you how The Yang Jeongin could ever feel insecure. He was image of perfection in your eyes. Sure you had your differences but that was what made you love him even more. You really had to show him how much you really loved him and how perfect he was.

You slid your hand from his neck into his nape and grabbed his hair making him lean back a little. He looked at you in surprise not expecting for you to be this bold.

"Innie baby, do you want me to tell you more about everything I love about you?" He looked at you unsure for a second but quickly nodded his head once it sinked in. You couldn't help but smile, this was going to be a long night. You leaned back in again and sealed your lips again ready to show him all your love.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated^^

Several hours later when you’re awake, you stumble into the kitchen to make coffee. Unlike your husband, you have no business trips to go on, but doing freelance work is no easy feat either. Jeongin’s usual mug is in the drying rack, so you grab it in lieu of combing through the expansive souvenir mug collection in the cabinet for today’s choice of drinkware. As you wait for your coffee to brew, your phone vibrates with an incoming video call. Jeongin’s face, lovely albeit worn, fills the screen.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve landed, and I’m safe. I’m just waiting for my driver. What are you up to?”

“Coffee,” you answer over the sound of the machine. “And then emails.”

“Did you like the gift I left for you?”

You visualize your bedroom, searching for any object that seems out of place. Then you poke your head out to the living room and find nothing unusual there. “I’d like it better if I knew where it was. Did you hide it somewhere?”

“No. You didn’t pick Mug of the Day yet?”

You hold up his mug, decorated with a watercolor rendition of the Busan skyline. “It’s this one.”

He smiles. “Check the cabinet.”

You open the doors, expecting to rummage through the enormous selection available, but the plush teddy bear makes the search much easier. The mug it sits in is new as well.

“‘I love you bear-y much,’” you read aloud. The cartoon bears hug each other, and a red heart floats above their heads. “This is adorable. I love you bear-y, bear-y much.”

“Love you the bear-y most,” he says, laughing when he notices your slight pout. “Please, just let me win this time. My driver’s here.”

“Okay, fine.” You wave goodbye with the arm of the teddy bear. “Stay safe. Call me when you’ve checked in.”

“I will. See you.”

Jeongin is the shop’s most loyal customer by far. Baboba opened in the middle of June when most students returned home for break, so Jeongin’s frequent visits were greatly appreciated. In fact, he was Baboba’s first customer. There’s a photo of him posing with your dad to commemorate the event. It hangs next to the newspaper clipping announcing the shop’s grand opening. Over the months, he’s developed an attachment to the place, doing homework from his summer classes while nursing a cup of boba. Usually house milk tea with tapioca pearls, but occasionally he’s adventurous and tries something new, taking recommendations from you or your dad. He even chats to your dad when they’re both free.

The point is, your dad loves him.

“He hasn’t come by for so long, I’m worried about him,” he says, his eyes still fixated on the door. He nudges you aside. “Why don’t you go help Yeji with the drinks?”

“Okay, fine.”

You head over to Yeji, Baboba’s latest hire. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she scans the cheat sheet taped to each station and the label on the empty plastic cup. She mumbles to herself, “Matcha milk tea, matcha milk tea.”

“One scoop of this.” You hand her the glass container filled with matcha powder, and she sighs appreciatively. She’s a part-timer and only been here for a week, so you don’t expect her to have the entire menu memorized. “I’ll start on the next order.”

Minho, the other paid employee, adds two more empty cups to the line of unfulfilled orders. He adjusts the light brown cap on his head and gives you a sympathetic look before returning to the customers. After a deep breath, you take stock of the labels, mentally sort them from simple to finicky, and start making drinks.

Sometime during the chaos, Yeji is placed on errand duty, also known as running back and forth between the kitchen and pick-up station to grab food. Your dad is still keeping watch for Jeongin.

In a rare lull, Minho gives you a hand, quickly scooping and pouring ingredients into the shaker cups while you finish the beverages with either additional toppings or lids. In the middle of dolloping cheese foam, you hear your dad gasp, “He’s here! With friends!” He heads to the register, eager to say hello to his favorite patron. However, tragedy strikes.

“We’re almost out of chicken!” comes Yeji’s harried cry.

Your dad’s eyes flick between all three of his employees. Yeji plants herself at the pick-up station, cradling a box of popcorn chicken to solidify her claim. You and Minho exchange glances and have a second-long staring contest for who will work the register now. Neither of you like the position very much, but since he’s paid his dues already, you concede.

Jeongin stands at the front of the group. In a plain white t-shirt and a studious expression on his face, he looks like how he did on the first day he came to Baboba. The menu in his hands is flipped somewhere to the middle, and his friends look over his shoulder and muse about what to get. Jeongin looks up momentarily, and his eyes crinkle when he makes eye contact with you. Your stomach does something you can’t pinpoint.

Over the din of the machines, you say, “Hi, welcome to Baboba. What can I get you?”

“Anything new?” he asks. He passes the menu to the nearest friend and steps closer to the counter, arching his neck to see into the kitchen. “I heard about the chicken emergency. Say ‘hi’ to your dad for me.”

“If you get the chicken, he’ll come out and give it to you personally. He misses his best customer,” you laugh, making him blush. “Nothing new, but check back next week.”

“What’s happening next week?”

You lean in conspiratorially, the same time something clatters in the back. “You didn’t hear it from me, but possibly something with coffee. The usual then?”

While Jeongin deliberates, you furtively check on Minho and Yeji, both of whom are wiping down a spill consisting of pudding and black tea. Minho’s apron has a dark stain on it now. Poor Yeji, silky soft pudding slipping and breaking between her gloved fingers, is flustered beyond belief.

“We got it,” Minho calls to you. “Can you get us a new cup though?”

You check through the order history on the machine and find the corresponding one. By the time you’ve stuck the label onto the cup, Jeongin and his friends are ready to order. They look concerned about what happened in the back. You pull the brim of your cap lower and ask what you can get them.

Brown sugar milk tea, 100% sweetness; strawberry milk slush, 100% sweet; hibiscus green tea, 75% sweetness, and one bungeoppang. And of course, what you now want to name as the Jeongin Special, house milk tea with boba, 75% sweetness, with an order of mild popcorn chicken.

“I don’t mind the ten minute wait,” he says before you can inform him. After you add on the discount for students of Seoul National University, he taps the back of his phone on the card reader. “Are you still gonna work here in the fall?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna get busier, so my dad’s gonna need help.” He smiles in understanding, and in the next instant, your customer service facade slips back on. “Your order will be ready soon. Thank you for coming to Baboba.”

One confirmation nod later, he joins his friends by the pick-up counter. The girl with copper hair greets him by grabbing his arm. Friend or girlfriend? You and Jeongin have never really talked about relationships, mostly because he always asked about the shop and you were all too willing to answer.

While Yeji disappears into the back to grab a fish-shaped pastry, you set aside the hibiscus green tea for Minho to fill after he finishes his current order. In the meantime, you scoop a spoonful of brown sugar boba and coat the insides of a cup with their syrup. Making drinks is as soothing as it is chaotic. Having worked together for the last month, you and Minho dance fluidly around each other, setting aside the latest orders one after another. Meanwhile, Yeji handles the strawberry milk slush, so you’re tasked with the house milk tea. It’s by far your favorite milk tea variation to make.

A minute later, the kitchen doors swing open, and your dad unabashedly exclaims out, “You’re finally back!”

Jeongin replies back, equally as enthusiastic. He introduces his friends to your dad, who heartily welcomes them and points to the photo on the wall. It’s met with awe. They exchange more words, inaudible over the shaker machines and the clink of ice chips. You’re about to leave Jeongin’s drink at the counter until you hear your dad say, “Of course, you’ve met my daughter already.”

He gestures to you, and you pretend to be preoccupied by the shelf of syrup bottles. Yeji is currently busy measuring out the milk. Strawberry, strawberry, where is it?

Your dad calls your name, waves you over, so you slink over with milk tea in hand. You awkwardly say hello to them, lingering for a few seconds while your dad explains that you also go to SNU. A first-year business major with a potential minor in design, he proudly says. You tersely smile. Jeongin looks surprised by the design minor, probably because you didn’t mention it in the last couple weeks. He’s an education major, no plans for a double major or a minor yet.

You feel yourself trying to blend into the floor, so you excuse yourself to help a new customer. It’s much easier to face a single stranger than a whole group of them.

Jeongin and Co. finally finish chatting with your dad, who is extremely excited to share about the upcoming coffee milk teas to celebrate the beginning of the fall semester. Your little tip-off for Jeongin has now turned into an official public announcement. When they walk past the register to exit, you begin to uselessly organize the straws in their metal container. Black, white, gray, brown, transparent. Your dad thought it was too dull for a boba shop, but your mom, the one who works in marketing, said it was on trend these days.

“Hey,” Jeongin says. His friends are gone, and you relax a little. “Design minor, huh? That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, just thinking ahead,” you reply, motioning vaguely at the shop. You always intended to go into business, but with your dad quitting his law firm job to start Baboba, it felt imperative that you take up design as well for advertising purposes. Your mom is too swamped with work to help. “I did most of this stuff, so I figured I should at least learn more. Any feedback?”

He looks around, scrutinizing the cream walls and the pots of ivy hanging by the window. The quaint white tables and chairs, the giant decal on the window declaring the name of the shop, the wall tacked with Baboba’s history. His eyes pause on the large center frame. With a thick black pen and a steady hand, you wrote the story of how Baboba came to be. Jeongin read it while sipping on his first cup of boba from the shop.

“Maybe a photo-op spot?” he suggests. “With lights and stuff?”

There is a blank wall by the front of the store. If you moved the lone seat for one somewhere else, a nice mural and a bench would fit there. “I’ll ask the owner, but it sounds like a good idea. Thanks.”

The door swings open, and a tour group—at least, you think they are judging by the size and overwhelmed expressions—enters. Jeongin notices them as well.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says. He takes a backward step. “Maybe earlier.”

“Yeah, of course.” He nearly collides with a customer, and you stifle a giggle at his deeply apologetic bow. When he waves goodbye, carefully balancing his box of chicken in the crook of his arm, you return the gesture. “I’ll be on the lookout for you!”

He’s out the door, but you still see him through the window and he does as well. You send your regards one last time. He does the same. Then the copper-haired girl calls for him, and he bounds over, eager to hear what she has to say. A foreign feeling fills your stomach. It’s not hunger, that much you’re certain about.

—

You don’t really have time to think about it. It’s Friday now, and since most of the students have come back and since social media posts and flyers have been made about the brand new coffee milk teas, Baboba is now teeming with customers. Many of them are here to try the place that opened over the summer, but quite a few are becoming loyal members of what Minho is now calling the Baboba cult.

“Who’s the cult leader?” Yeji asks. She’s on her break but keeping you and Minho company on the other side of the boba-making stations. As she chews on a complimentary bungeoppang, she studies the cheat sheet and scans the shelf for the location of the ingredients.

“Jeongin,” you answer without a second thought. To your disappointment, he hasn’t come back yet. You do overhear a few people talking about how they his pictures and his raving reviews of Baboba, but that’s all. “Minho, we need to play catch up for a bit.”

At the register, Minho gives you a thumbs-up. He takes one last order before diving into the mess of empty labeled cups. Meanwhile, you set down two matcha slushes on the counter and shout the order number over the noise. There’s so many people today. The air conditioning is on at full blast, but the front door opens at random intervals, inviting customers but also the late August heat inside.

Your dad must be dying in the kitchen.

Whenever he comes out to bring out chicken or bungeoppang or waffles, he always makes sure to stand under the vent for a few extra seconds. Finished with her snack, Yeji asks if he’s all right, if he wants any help in the back, but he shakes his head. You look at him with concern. His shirt collar is ringed with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says before you can say anything. “I have a fan and some ice.”

You cannot believe he was a lawyer before this because that is one of the worst arguments he has made. “Dad, that’s not—”

“Go help Minho.”

You reluctantly obey, but you purposely mess up a drink on purpose to set aside for him. Honey green tea, 50% sweetness, and lots of lychee jelly on the bottom—his favorite.

Yeji joins the fray soon. The three of you tackle the beverages with ease, and by sunset, the afternoon rush slows down a considerable amount, enough that you and your dad can eat dinner together in the back.

Four chairs surround an old table, but only two will be in use. On top of the table lies a stack of glass containers in varying sizes. Your mom dropped off some leftovers earlier, so dinner tonight is rice and grilled fish with a large heaping of pickled vegetables. Your dad savors the drink you made, letting out a loud “ah” every time he swallows.

“We’re gonna have to hire more people soon,” you remark, picking apart fish flesh from bones with your chopsticks.

“Do you think Jeongin will be interested?”

You laugh at his one-track mind. If Jeongin is the leader of the Baboba cult, then your dad is the leader of the Jeongin cult. “I asked him about it in the summer. He’s busy with classes.”

“He’s a nice boy. Very polite, very smart. Handsome too.”

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden statement and reach for some kimchi. This heading towards familiar but unwanted territory. “Minho’s also a nice boy.”

“He is, but I also have to pay him. Jeongin gives me money.” He nods to himself. “He would be a good son-in-law.”

“Dad!”

“I was speaking in general terms. Your own mind went there by itself.”

You sigh, he smiles. He’s won the case. Luckily, he doesn’t prod you any further about him, mostly because you want to run your design idea for the photo wall with him. Murals are quite expensive, but wall decals and wallpaper aren’t. A simple wooden bench is also easy to source. As for the “lights and stuff” portion of Jeongin’s suggestion, hanging light bulbs would fit well without compromising the modern interior.

“That sounds nice. Maybe ask our marketing expert later to see what she thinks, but I like it. Free advertising.” He gets up from his chair and gathers your bowl along with his. “I’ll clean up. We should let Minho have his break now.”

He places your uniform cap back on your head and snugly secures it like you’re a child again. You pretend to squirm, but he knows better. Then he lovingly pats your cheek and sends you out to the front.

It’s still relatively quiet, but the after-dinner crowd will come by soon. Friday nights are by far the busiest. While Minho leaves the shop to grab dinner from one of the nearby restaurants, you and Yeji stay behind and fulfill orders at a relaxed pace. She’s less frenzied now, more comfortable with the measurements and ratios. As she smoothly goes around each station, you handle the ten slush teas, all in varying flavors, all from the same single order. The whir of the blender shuts you away from the rest of the world. You’re unaware of someone calling your name until Yeji finally taps on your shoulder.

“The Baboba cult leader is here,” she says. She has two completed, identical drinks in her grasp. “Do you want to take his order? I can finish yours. More practice with slushes.”

You glance at the register where a patient Jeongin is waiting. When he sees you looking his way, you raise a hand in hello. “Yeah, I’ll take his. Have fun.”

A ready smile on your face, you head over to him. He’s in a brown and white striped jacket this evening, but the collar of a white shirt peeks out from underneath. Is his closet mostly white shirts, you wonder. It’s what you typically see him in, and it seems like he has an endless supply.

“Welcome to Baboba. What can I get you?”

As usual, mild popcorn chicken and house milk tea with boba, 75% sweetness. However, the Earl Grey milk tea with boba, 100% sweetness, is new. It’s your preferred drink of choice, albeit with the wrong sweetness level. You think back to the girl with copper hair who touches his arm constantly, but quickly push those thoughts away.

“No ten minute wait today?” he jokes as he watches you stick on the labels.

“No, my dad prepped a lot before we ate. You didn’t want to try the coffee milk teas? They’re really good, especially with cheese foam on top.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ll save that for the first day of class then.” He sighs and looks around the shop. “I’m gonna miss summer.”

You agree and motion for him to sit somewhere as you get started on his drinks. Yeji, leaning against the counter as she keeps an eye on the blender, notices that you have more than one cup.

“He must really like boba if he’s getting two,” she remarks. She’s barely audible over the drone of the machines. “Do you need any help?”

“Can you get a mild chicken when you’re not busy?” you shout back.

She nods. In the meantime, you focus your attention on the ingredients. Both beverages are simple enough, and before you know it, you’re at the pick-up counter with his order.

“No photo-op yet?” he teases. “I was looking forward to taking some nice pictures there. I dressed up all nicely for it too.”

The room feels a little warmer than usual. “It’s still a work in progress. My dad seemed pretty happy with the idea though, so maybe in a few weeks? Sorry we made you waste an outfit.”

“Nah, I’m kidding. Oh, and uh”—he takes a deep breath—“this one’s for you.”

He pushes the Earl Grey milk tea back towards you. You stare blankly at it, unsure of what to say or do. The air conditioning has seemingly turned off, and all the heat of summer has descended upon you.

“Thanks,” you stammer. Nonetheless, your hand circles around it anyway, the chill of the ice against the cup a blessing. “You didn’t need to, but thanks. Really. That’s very sweet of you. You—you know I work here, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, but I know you like it and… it’s just a gift. Fundraising for my idea, if you wanna look at it that way. But it’s for you. Did I get it right? I remember you telling me that you liked boba more than jelly.”

“50% is my usual, but it doesn’t matter.” You bring the drink to your chest, almost cradling it. Your heart thuds against your apron, wanting to imprint itself on the plastic cup. “Thank you.”

The doors swing open, and a group of rowdy friends clamor in. Yeji yells a welcome as she hurries over to the register as they crowd around the menu. She shoots you a nervous look.

“I need to get back,” you say, “but thanks again. I’ll see you soon?”

After a moment, he replies, “Yeah, I should get going too. Tell your dad hi and bye for me.”

“Of course. Have a nice night.”

You hide your present underneath the counters and fall in line behind Yeji as she taps on the screen of the register. You half listen to the orders. Jeongin left a few seconds ago, so you sneak one last glimpse of him through the window. He sips his drink while he walks. His straw is the same light brown of your cap and apron.

Your gazes meet, and you suddenly crave a particular extra sweet drink.a

You exited the app, throwing your phone to the side in a sad effort to distract those toxic thoughts again. You couldn’t blame either Jeongin or the other models for their natural born talent and beauty. But, that didn’t stop you from rubbing your hands together. 

Instead of the smoothness you craved for, a dry, crackling sound scratched upon the friction between your palms. You cringed at the ruined ambiance, feeling significantly less confident, if you had any to begin with. You face your open palms towards yourself, bringing them closer to get a good look at them. Instead of the smooth lines you expected, your eyes zeroed in on the various calluses ranging from yellow to white, depending on how long they’ve lived there for. 

Using the tip of your pointer finger, you traced the calluses of one hand, hating the way the bumps felt. The hard, rough patch of skin left you feeling dejected and hopeless of ever changing. Suddenly, you clenched both hands, wanting to quickly fix the mess as soon as possible. 

Making your way to the bathroom, you raided Jeongin’s endless supply of hand creams and moisturizers. Choosing the closest bottle, you lathered a hefty amount -- albeit a bit too much now that you rubbed it in -- and resumed looking at your palms. You weren’t sure exactly what you were expecting or the results you wanted from this quick spree; however, you did recognize that same feeling of insecurity upon realizing that one moisturizer could solve the root of your problems. 

“Y/N, baby?” Jeongin called from the front door, “I’m home!”

You didn’t get a chance to move before Jeongin had already found you. Quickly, he walked over to you, clad in his jacket and all to give you a squeezing hug, “I missed you.”

You accepted his embrace, burying your face in his scent. If anything could cheer you up, it was Jeongin’s comfort that brought you ultimate happiness. So much to the point, you’d forgotten what you were originally doing prior to his arrival. It was only until Jeongin released you when the both of you took in your surroundings. Jeongin lifted a brow, “Were you using my hand creams?”

You stuttered, feeling shy, “Um, maybe?”

“Maybe?” He gave you an unimpressed look. 

“I just wanted to try them,” You admitted. 

Jeongin nodded in understanding, glancing at the open bottle, “Next time, use the red one. It’s my favorite out of all of them.”

You picked up the red bottle, making a mental note to try this product later. Maybe this was the miracle worker you were hoping for. You didn’t have a chance to read the labels as Jeongin set the bottle back onto the countertop. He beckoned you with a gentle nudge of your elbow, “Let’s get coffee? I’m dying for an Americano.” 

“Only if you’re paying,” You escaped his arms to find your jacket, slipping your phone inside the pocket. 

Jeongin laughed, following behind you being the one to lock the door, “Of course, I am. How could I let my baby pay, hm?”

You giggled with him, feeling much better than before. Upon exiting the apartment building, you felt the cold air blast you. You shuffled closer towards Jeongin, silently asking to share his warmth. 

He looked at you, “Cold?”

You nodded, ready to accept his side hugs like you’ve always done before. However, instead of a side hug, Jeongin took one hand out of his pocket, holding it out towards you. Without thought, your face dropped immediately which frightened Jeongin, “What? Do you not like holding my hand?” 

You shook your head with lighting speed, feeling guilty indirectly making him the villain, “No, no, I just- I’m just-”

The words you wanted to say got caught in your throat. You weren’t entirely sure you were ready to reveal your insecurities to him yet, leaving you to sigh in defeat, “Here, gimme your hand, please.”

Reluctantly, Jeongin gave you his hand, feeling that something just wasn’t right about the way you were behaving. Nonetheless, he shook it off as you both continued towards the cute cafe settled on the corner of the intersection. 

Entering the cafe was a blessing of its own, providing the warmth you both craved. Even in the warm environment, Jeongin refused to let go of your hand even when you tried too. All your attempts were defeated with a quick squeeze of cease. 

Annoyed, Jeongin turned towards you, “Are you trying to run away from me?”

“No,” You looked away, not wanting him to see through your lies, “I’m just getting hot, that’s all.”

“I don’t care,” Jeongin pouted, facing forward back in line to order, “Your place is next to me.”

You hummed, getting lost in the menu. You’d been to the humble cafe countless times before with Jeongin and each time Jeongin would get his usual Americano as you changed up your order every time. Being the bean that he was, Jeongin ordered for you, knowing exactly which drink had caught your attention. He guided you towards an open booth by the window where you both sat waiting for your drinks to be made. 

It wasn’t long until both orders were called by the barista. Inevitably, Jeongin released your hand to carry both drinks. Without thought, you folded your hands neatly on the table and took your drink for a small sip. Following your actions, Jeongin sipped his drink as well before reaching over the table with both hands to capture yours. Without thought, you flinched away, nearly knocking over your freshly made beverage.

Jeongin looked at you in bewilderment, perhaps more startled than you, “What’s wrong? Why won’t you let me hold your hands?”

The hurt and offended expression sent a jab straight towards your heart, aching upon realizing that you’re hurting the love of your life, “I’m so sorry, Jeongin. I just, I just don’t feel good.”

His expression shifted to one of worry, “Are you sick? Where are you hurting?”

“No, no, baby,” You denied softly, “I’m not hurt, physically. What I mean is that I don’t feel good about my hands.”

Jeongin frowned, not quite understanding your concern. You followed the lines of his confusion, answering the question he hadn’t asked, “I feel so insecure about my hands. They’re ugly, rough, and callused whereas yours are so, so perfect. And, when you work with other hand models with perfect hands, it makes me wonder whether you feel disgusted holding my hands.”

He shook his head at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed to slip out, “How could I ever think that of you? You’re the most beautiful person ever. How could you even think that of yourself?”

You moved to show him your dry hands, “This is why! Look at them, Jeongin! I just wish they were smooth and pretty, like everyone else.”

“But, I don’t like everyone else,” Jeongin argued, nearly having tears in his eyes, “I like you for you. I wouldn't change anything about you, ever.”

You let him take your hand in his, interlocking your fingers together. He rubbed over your knuckles, “You have nothing to worry about, because I don’t care how soft or rough your hands feel. I love you for who you are, no matter what.”

You breathed deeply, “You really don’t care? Promise?”

With a soft smile, Jeongin nodded, “Promise?”

He then kissed the knuckles of each hand, rubbing them soothingly. You looked at him with pure admiration, feeling bad that you thought that he was shallow enough to leave you because of your appearance. But everything he told you was what you needed to hear to get rid of those thoughts that clouded your confidence. 

You smiled at him, lovingly, “But, can you show me how to take care of my hands still? I want them to be healthy at least.”

Jeongin squeezed both hands simultaneously, “Anything for you, baby. We go hand in hand.” 

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- masterlist - 

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Banner Cred: @kissmenotyou​

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