countdown
â ËïœĄâàšà§Ë neighbour barista!jae x non-idol!reader àšà§ â§âË â
⥠genre/warnings: neighbours to lovers, but with a sprinkle of barista au and rockstar au?!? (jae is a busy boy)
⥠word count: 5,747 words
⥠authorâs note: finally finished this pic !! writing this got me deep in jae feels so now i'm officially part of the jars fandom... <3 also a very big shoutout to my lover @hyucksos for betareading my first present tense fic ilysb xoxo
⥠song rec: hi hello by day6
âââââââââââââč
Twelve minutes.Â
Heâs tugging on his socks, so obviously mismatched, just barely making it out the door without tripping on his own two feet.Â
He fumbles and feels around his pockets for the keys, breathing a sigh of relief when he feels the familiar imprint against his jeans.
But the relief is short-lived. His eyes widen in panic when his gaze lands upon the sweet old lady making her way towards the elevator from her end of the corridor, walking stick in hand. Cursing to himself, he readjusts his guitar strap on his shoulder, making a beeline towards the elevator.
âCâmon, câmon, câmonâŠâ He mutters under his breath, fingers jabbing the down button at frantic speed.Â
Behind him, a door clicks shut. You step out, double-checking that your front door is locked properly.Â
You turn around, only to be faced with the broad back of your tall neighbour from the end of the corridor. Youâve crossed paths a few times before, but only briefly. From what you could gather, he orders a shit ton of takeout (as evident from the piles of recycled takeaway containers he leaves intermittently by his door), and is always up at irregular hours. You vaguely remember brushing past him by the elevator way past midnight a few weeks ago when you came home from a company dinner that ran way over. You were tired, shoulders slumped, looking forward to a warm shower and a good nightâs sleep; whereas he was dressed in all black, hood pulled up over his head, backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked like he was going somewhere â at 2am.
You shake those thoughts away. Itâs just past seven, and youâre running slightly late for your dinner with an old friend. The bus leaves in five minutes, so you really have to get to the bus stop soon. You briefly consider running down the stairs, but decide against it given youâre on the ninth floor.
You stand carefully behind your neighbour. Heâs bouncing on his feet, fingers tapping against his thighs impatiently. Perhaps youâre not the only one in a rush.
The elevator dings, signalling its arrival.
Jae swears the door slides open at a snailâs pace. Heâd already been late for the last few gigs â he couldnât afford to not be on time today, unless he wanted his head on the chopping block. He quickly jogs in, pressing for the ground floor, but heâs so absorbed in getting in before the ahjumma arrives that he fails to notice your presence.
Your eyes meet in a split second, and he flashes you an apologetic look, before pressing the doors shut.
That bastard!
âIâm sorry!â His voice filters through the rapidly closing doors as you stand there in shock, refusing to believe that your neighbour just slammed the elevator door shut in your face.Â
Needless to say, you were late to your dinner.Â
For the next few days, whenever your line of sight falls upon that particular neighbourâs door, you feel your blood boiling underneath your skin.
âââââââââââ
You settle into the elevator, pressing your AirPods into your ears, ready to start the morning commute and face the day. Itâs a Monday, the start of a new week, and you already miss the soft crinkle of your sheets under your skin.Â
Just as the doors slide close, a hand sticks in between the doors, prompting it to re-open.
Your eyebrow lifts at the new intruder.
And in walks none other than your menace of a neighbour.
Heâs sporting large wire-rimmed, round glasses this time. A shoulder bag hangs upon his lithe frame, and headphones sit snug around his neck. A small ponytail sits atop his head.
You squint your eyes at it, staring.
He sucks in a breath, caught off guard by your presence. He nods his head, almost sheepishly, averting his gaze towards his old Converse, worn from years of sticky bar floors and spilt coffee.Â
The elevator doors slide close, trapping the two of you inside the metal cell.
You know itâs rude to stare, but the contrast between the tiny ponytail and the rest of him (or what you know of him, at least) is too stark to ignore.
He seems to feel the weight of your gaze, following your line of sight before patting his head down with his hand, wincing internally at the realisation that he forgot to fix his hair after brushing his teeth and washing his face.
The air is tense and silent for the rest of the ride. You have nothing to say to him. He seems to be mulling over the right words.
The doors slide open, just as his lips part.Â
âIâm sorry again.â He calls out, voice small as he realises the chances of you hearing him are slim. Youâd already stepped forward, feet crossing the threshold of the elevator. He continues anyway. âI know it was a pretty rude thing to do, but I couldnât afford to be late again. I⊠Iâm sorry.â
You stop in your tracks. You donât say anything, or turn around. You simply nod lightly, before continuing with the rest of your day.
Jae lets out a breath he didnât even realise he was holding.
Let me make it up to you, he wants to say, but the words die in his mouth.
âââââââââââ
Itâs early â way too early, and Jae tries but fails miserably to rub the sleep from his eyes. He yawns, wondering to himself how anyone could possibly function at the crack of dawn.Â
(Or at least, it feels like the crack of dawn for him, a seasoned night owl. It is, in fact, quarter past seven, which is a perfectly normal time for human beings to start their days.)
He glances at the clock.
Eight minutes, Jae reckons. Eight minutes before the morning rush starts and heâd have to interact with other people like a normal, functioning member of society.Â
A sense of dread settles over him.
For now, he absentmindedly wipes over the surface of the coffee machine, the paddle, the coffee grinder â his metal companions for the morning shift. To his left, just at the corner of his eyes, sits his notebook, open to his recent work.
Itâs an uptempo, pop beat coupled with a melody that sits easily on the ears. He has the instrumentals locked in, but the lyrics are a different story. Itâs taking him longer than usual to come up with a cohesive narrative, and by this point, heâs tired of constantly hitting dead ends.
The windchime sings, signalling the arrival of customers. The early summer air blows through the open doors, the fresh scent of newly sprouting trees mingling with the lingering aroma of coffee beans in the air.
âWelcome to â Oh?â
Jae stops, tongue tied. An uneasy smile works its way onto his lips. He tries to conceal his surprise with his best customer service face. âGood morning, what can I get for you?â
Your eyes meet his in recognition. A look passes through your face for a mere second, before you recover your composure. You flash him a polite, tight-lipped smile. âMorning, can I get an iced latte please?â
He pulls a plastic cup from the organised pile, scribbling onto its side with a black marker. âIced latte, coming right up.â He smiles , keying in your order and readying the card machine.
You linger by the counter. The cafe is empty, as it usually is. Youâd tried to come in earlier to beat the morning rush and get your caffeine hit before stepping onto the train.
Itâs funny, you think to yourself. Youâve lived in this apartment for months now, and frequented this cafe a few times a week, but youâve never once crossed paths with your barista neighbour. Perhaps the timing never lined up properly, until now.
âIced latte!â The voice youâve only heard from the echoes along your hallway or within the confines of the metal elevator rings throughout the empty space.
The owner of said voice, whose eyes were partially concealed by his too-long fringe and a cap, shines slightly as he passes you your drink. You find it hard not to notice the dark eyebags sitting below his brown orbs.
âThank you.â You mumble , voice small. You feel uncertain, as though you should say something more, but decide against it. After all, he did close the elevator door on you.
âWait!â Jae calls out, stopping you from leaving. He disappears behind the counter for a second, and re-emerges with a brown bag. He passes it to you.
âWhatâŠ?â
âItâs on the house, I hope you like chocolate chip cookies.â He explains sheepishly. âAn apology for what I did last time. I truly am sorry.â He says , voice and eyes both laced with sincerity.
âI⊠Thank you. Itâs fine.â You reply, accepting the cookie, but unsure of what to make of the interaction. The words linger in the air for a moment too long.
âJae.â He blurts out, a desperate attempt to fill the silence. Inwardly, he cringes at himself. âMy name is Jae. Youâre 918, right?â
A small grin spreads across your lips. You nod, âYeah, Iâm Y/N.â
âWell, I wonât keep you. See you around, Y/N.â
âââââââââââ
Itâs funny, because you swear youâve never seen Jae at the cafe before, until that day.
And then, all of a sudden, he starts popping up everywhere.
The elevator, the cafe, the recycling bins downstairs, at the convenience store across the road, by the bus stop.Â
You searched it up late last night. Itâs called the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon; the frequency illusion â the phenomenon of suddenly noticing something, or rather, someone, and then seeing it appear everywhere around you.
Six minutes.
Thereâs not much time until your bus comes, and if you miss this one, youâd have to squish and be squished in the next one. You briefly consider skipping coffee this morning, but a yawn tears through your soul, reminding you of just how late you stayed up last night.
This wonât do.
You push past the cafeâs double doors, feeling the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloping your fatigued body.
That, and a now familiar voice.
âMorning!â Heâs rather chirpy today, you think to yourself as you approach the counter. âThe usual?â
You nod, stifling a yawn. Wordlessly, you go through the motions of a cafe regular, pulling out your phone to pay and passing Jae your loyalty card.Â
âLong night?â He asks from beyond the steam and screams of the coffee machine.Â
You shake your head. âNo, just bad sleep.â
He laughed, eyes glinting teasingly. âHave you ever considered that perhaps your caffeine addiction is messing with the quality of your sleep?â
You narrow your eyes at him. âDonât take my one single joy away from me.â
Jae pulls his hands up in surrender. âIâm just saying, I know I work in a cafe and all and we profit immensely from this addiction of yours, but cutting down wouldnât hurt.â
You pout, arms reaching out for your savior; your beloved iced latte. âIâll consider it.âÂ
He reaches across the counter with your coffee, but not before pretending to pull it back. Your hands follow the direction of the plastic cup a little too closely, fingers brushing his with a feather light touch.Â
âWow, you really do have a problem.âÂ
âShut up.â You scold. âIâm leaving!â
âOh, one sec.â He hands you another brown bag, this one much larger than before. âI messed up an order â thereâs two slices of cheese instead of one. Iâd usually just play dumb, but you know how particular the neighbour ahjumma is with her ham and cheese croissants.â
You laugh, because you in fact have no clue about this whatsoever. You just take his word for it. âGiven how much free food youâre dishing out to customers, youâre probably running a loss at this rate.â
âNot just any customer, just you.â Jae teases, a playful lilt in his voice.
You wave at him, looking at your app for the next bus.
âââââââââââ
Itâs the weekend, and the weather outside is smiling at you, beckoning you to leave the confines of your house.Â
You comply, pulling on a simple t-shirt and shorts, and tying your hair back in an attempt to look somewhat neat. You step into your slides, grab your keys and let your feet guide you towards your recent obsession. Everyday, you found yourself in one of three places â your home, your office, or the cafe downstairs.
âWelcome to â Oh?â A curious laugh punctuates the unfinished sentence. âItâs the weekend!â
âI know.â You reply breezily, leaning across the counter. âIâm addicted, remember?â
Jae laughs, and youâre suddenly struck by how familiar it sounds in your ears, like a memory you keep reliving, over and over again. âYou really are. The usual?â
You hum in agreement. âYes, andâŠâ You trail off, eyes travelling across the pastries on display in the fridge. Itâs the weekend, after all. You make up your mind in an instant. âAnd a chocolate chip cookie, please.â
âComing right up.â He nods, firing the coffee machine up.
You linger by the counter, your usual spot, not really bothering to find a seat. You prefer to be in his company anyways.Â
âAny plans for today?â He asks casually, just as he shovels ice and pours milk into a plastic cup.
You shake your head, pulling your phone out to pick up where you left off from last night. âNot much â laundry, chores, groceries.â
âWhat are you up to?â Jae wonders, setting your iced latte down on the counter top. He attempts to peek past the coffee machine, but to no avail.
You hum absentmindedly. âHmm, sudoku. Iâm not really good at it though.âÂ
âPass it over.â
You lift your eyebrow, doubtful. âReally?â
âYouâd be surprised.â
Considering you have nothing to lose, you hand your phone over, in exchange for the iced latte. You take a big sip, allowing the caffeine to flow through your veins. You shut your eyes and sigh appreciatively.
âAddict.â Jae scoffs, watching you with a teasing glint in his eyes, before turning his attention to your puzzle.
He remains silent for a moment, studying the screen. âYouâre nearly there.â He begins. âBut I think you need to take a few more risks.â
âWhat do you mean?â You lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of what heâs seeing that you clearly arenât.Â
You get all up in his personal space, staring at your phone without paying any attention to the way Jaeâs breath hitches in his throat. The scent of your freshly washed hair invades his senses, and for a second, heâs not sure whether he wants to take a deep inhale or hide away in the storeroom out back.
âJae, what do you mean? I donât get it.â You stare, willing the right numbers to appear in the right boxes.
He clears his throat. Focus. âI mean, you can just take guesses to eliminate your choices. Like, see here?â He points to a pair of boxes in the corner of the board. âThe eight could go here, or there right? So you can just take a guess. And if itâs wrong, youâll know immediately where itâs meant to go.â
You mull over his words, âI guess youâre right⊠How are you so good at this?â You wonder aloud, looking up to stare into his eyes. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness. You swear you could count his eyelashes if you focused.Â
âUhm,â He gulps. He tries to compose himself, fingers reaching for the brown paper bag, long forgotten. âYour cookie.â
âThanks.â You mumble, quickly accepting it and taking a bite. You wait patiently for his response.
âYeah, my sister used to play heaps. We passed a sudoku book back and forth on the back pews of Sunday church when we were kids.â
You couldnât help but laugh at the mental image your mind conjures up at his description. âReally?â
He bites his lip, a shy smile gracing his features. âYeah, pretty lame, huh?â
You shake your head. âNo, just a bit nerdy.â
âSounds about right.â
âââââââââââ
The days pass in a whirlwind.Â
Your newfound routine gives you comfort. You find yourself looking forward to waking up to a new day, and another cup of coffee from your neighbour-turned-barista.Â
(You didnât know it then, but neither did he. And the lingering conversations and warm exchanges prompted him to request more morning shifts, and to be home earlier, and to get to bed at reasonable times â just so he could be the best version of himself when he greets you in the morning.)
Early summer rolls into the rainy season, and the rain fades away to autumn. As the weather grows colder, you pull on more layers to keep warm. And yet, ironically, it feels like you are slowly, but surely, peeling back the layers of yourself.
(For him, of course.)
Itâs a chilly morning, and you still havenât let up on the iced lattes. You walk into the cafe, appreciating the warmth of the heaters in the cozy space.Â
âYouâre a bit late today.â He remarks, pushing the iced latte across the counter, ready for your arrival.
You laugh, waving to greet him. The two of you dance a familiar tango â you pay, and he stamps your loyalty card. âThanks for being prepared. I took the day off today.â
âOh, how come?â He asks, fingers fiddling with his pen. His notebook lay open, long forgotten.
âGotta go to the hospital.â You reply, pouting as you sip your morning coffee.Â
His eyes shoot up in alarm. âHospital? Everything okay? You feeling alright?â
âWoah, woah.â You scoff, finding his worried expression endearing. âArenât you a little too invested in my health, as my barista?â
He averts his gaze, hands gesturing vaguely in the air. âYou know, this cafe would crumble without your patronage.â
You laugh at that. âYeah, well, you canât get rid of me that easily. Just a routine checkup, nothing too serious, I hope.â
Jae breathes a sigh of relief. âWell, thatâs good to hear. As your barista, I hope you will remain healthy so I can keep enabling your caffeine addiction.â He disappears briefly from behind the counter, and emerges with another brown bag. âA sweet treat, for good luck.â
He sets it down on the counter, next to his notebook. You reach towards it, but your eyes linger on the page. Chicken scrawls fill the lines. âWhat is it?â You ask, curious.
Jae sighs deeply. âA song Iâve been working on for ages, but it just refuses to come out right.â
âYou write songs?â
He looks at you, eyes vulnerable. âUhm, yeah. I sing too, and play the guitar. And the keyboard, if itâs required.â
âOh!â The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. âThatâs why you carry around a guitar!â
âNo,â He begins, voice uncertain. âThatâs because I play in a band.â
âYou play in a band? What?!â
âWhy are you so surprised?â He laughs nervously, unsure of what to make of your constant line of questioning.Â
âNothing, itâs just⊠Youâre⊠Donât take this the wrong way, but you donât necessarily fit the image of a band member.â
Jae clasps his hand across his chest in faked agony. âWhat does that mean?!â
âI mean, no offence, but you said you used to play sudoku with your sister in church. Youâre telling me that boy grew up to play in a band?â
His lips formed a pitiful frown. âHey, now youâre hurting my feelings. And yes, maybe you donât really know me that well â have you considered that?â
You open your mouth, but fail to come up with a smart response. âIâm sorry,â You say sincerely. âI guess we donât really know each other that well for two people who spend most mornings together.â
âNow youâre just making it sound romantic, Y/N.â
Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze for a few moments. The air is strung high with an unspeakable tension.
You take another sip in an effort to dissipate the awkward air, before staring at his notebook. âCan I take a look?â
Jae nods, a sense of deja vu washing over him. âAre you gonna help me with my lyrics cos I helped you with your sudoku?â
âPerhaps.â You mumble, reading his words. It was messy, barely legible, with a slight slant â somehow, it was so him. âDonât underestimate me, youâre looking at the eighth grade spelling bee champion.â
He steps away to clean the dishes, leaving you to your devices.Â
When he comes back, youâre already scribbling across the page.
âHow much do the words have to rhyme?â You ask, curious.Â
He hums. âNot exactly, but they do have to flow naturally together. I donât really know â itâs hard to explain, I just go with what feels right. But for some reason, Iâm really struggling with this one.â
You nod, considering your options. âIâll see what I can do.â
âââââââââââ
All day, at the office, you run your fingers across a single piece of paper.Â
A five-inch piece of parchment with the name of a band you never heard of, until this morning. A date, a time, and a venue not too far away from your office.
Youâve been thinking about it all day â what his voice would sound like, what you should wear, how the audience would react. Your colleagues had to tap you repeatedly on your shoulder to ensure you were paying attention during the weekly stand-up.
And yet, nothing could calm the persistent hammer of your heart against your ribcage.Â
You met him first, as the annoying neighbour that slammed the elevator doors in your face.
You got to know him, slowly, as the barista who made your iced coffee every morning with a warm smile.
Tonight, youâll see a whole other side of him. The performer; the artist underneath the overgrown fringe and wide-rimmed glasses and black hoodies. A different Jae.
It strikes you, then. The layers of him are slowly getting revealed to you, one by one, each more interesting than the last, and you want nothing more than to keep peeling back the layers of him.
Three more minutesâŠ
You think to yourself, willing the hands of the clock to move faster so you could get ready to leave.
âââââââââââ
âTwo minutes til showtime!â The stagehand calls in a booming voice.
On your trip back from the bathroom, you catch him standing in the corner, alone, leaning against a wall.
His fingers twirl the guitar pick over and over, a nervous tick.
You debate between leaving and staying. As your thoughts circle in your head, you watch him pull out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.Â
This wouldnât do.
You walk up to him and wave.
He sees you crossing the room and flashes you an uncertain smile.
âWhat are you doing here?â He asks softly, voice small. âYouâre not gonna get front row seats at this rate.â
âIâm here on very important business.â You tease, a grin working its way onto your lips. Your gaze flickers towards the pack, and for a second you contemplate whether what you are about to do will cross an unspoken boundary, but you think, to hell with it.Â
âIâm not ââ He begins.
You wordlessly reach out towards his hand, holding his trembling ones in yours. âNo,â you spoke softly, with a quiet determination. âYou wonât. You donât need it to do well out there, trust me.â
Jae looks at you for a second, in awe. He looks away when the tightness in his chest gets too much. âHow do you know?â He whispers, voice so small that your heart stutters in your chest.
âBecause,â You take a deep breath, knowing that your words have the potential to make or break his confidence. âYouâve done this before, and youâll do it again. Because youâve conquered your nerves in the past and gave the audience a great show. Because youâve performed and rehearsed these songs so many times. Because I helped you with the lyrics for one of them.â You pause, tightening your grip on his hands, and staring deep into his eyes. The lighting around you is scarce, and you can just make out your own reflection in his large glasses. But beyond that, his eyes are fixated solely on you, unwavering. âAnd because I believe in you.â
âY/N,â Jae lets out a breath he didnât even know he was holding. It feels like a huge burden has been lifted off his shoulders. âI ââ
âItâs showtime!â
A worried look passes across his eyes. You hold his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. âGo, Iâll be watching from the front row.â
âPromise?â He asks, uncertain.
You nod vigorously, knowing right then and there that you would promise him the world if you could.
âââââââââââ
The performance passes in a blur.Â
One moment youâre jamming to the addictive beats, the next youâre being swept off your feet by Jaeâs sweet, sweet vocals. You welcomed it all â moving your body to the music and allowing yourself to be serenaded by the bandâs frontman.
All that dancing and cheering makes you parched, and you want to prolong the buzz and adrenaline with a glass of something chilled and strong.
âHey, can I ââ
âGin and tonic for her, please. And a pint of beer for myself.â A voice, low and familiar, spoke next to you.
You turn towards it, and settle your eyes on the owner. He leans on the bar counter, all 6 feet of him, messy hair with sweat threatening to drip down his chin, staining his graphic tee and ripped jeans. He flashes you a teasing smirk.
âJae,â You breathe, unsure of what to say or do after being completely moved by his performance and stage presence. You had no idea that your klutz of a neighbour could get the crowd going like that, like they were hypnotised by a magician. This is an entirely different side of him that youâve never seen before, and youâre not entirely sure how to interact with it.
âY/N,â Jae hands you your drink, and clinks your glass in a toast. âDid you enjoy yourself?â
âYes.â You answer without hesitation. Taking a sip of your drink, you feel the cool liquid rush down your throat, doing little to calm your quickening pulse.
âI could tell.â He laughs as he takes a swig of his beer. Jae considers you for a second, eyeing you with a certain intensity that makes you warm both inside and out. âYou were having a bit too much fun. It was a bit distracting, honestly.â He continues in a playful tone.
You look at him questioningly.Â
Instead of answering, he just moves closer to you. The bar is getting more crowded by the minute as people try to refill their drinks after the performance. Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the heat from his warm body radiate towards you. Bar goers begin yelling out their orders, and along with the music blasting from the speakers, it becomes harder and harder to hear each other.
Jae places a steady arm around your shoulders, shielding you from the wave of people moving towards the counter. He leans close to your ears, his breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. âHow about we get some food? Itâs way too hectic here.â
Youâre not sure what comes over you, then. Maybe itâs the close proximity with Jae that messes with your brainwaves, or the reassuring squeeze of your shoulders, or perhaps just the comfort of leaning against his sturdy form in a room full of strangers. You reach within yourself and find the courage to utter the next few words, âAre you taking me out on a date?â
âAm I what?â
âIâm not repeating myself!â You laugh, ushering him towards the general direction of the exit.Â
He trails closely behind you, pretending that he didnât hear you. âSay it again! I canât hear ââ
You shoot a pointed look towards him once the two of you make it outside. The constant pushing and shoving ensures youâre pressing flush against him, his arm never straying far from you.Â
The night air is chilly, and you feel a shiver work its way through your bones. Wordlessly, he pulls out a hoodie from his backpack that you didnât even realise he had with him. Jae helps you pull it over your head, and work your arms through the sleeves. Youâre momentarily winded by how his scent swallows you whole. When you emerge from the oversized hoodie, completely engulfed by the fabric, he helps to sweep your hair away from your eyes.Â
He smiles at you like youâre the best thing that ever happened to him. His gaze is soft and sparkly, his gentle touch lingering on you. You wish it stays there forever.
âJaeâŠâ
âCâmon, letâs get out of here.â
âââââââââââ
And thatâs how you ended up back where it all started â within the four walls of the elevator.
Lingering touches, harmonious giggles, and smiles that hide more than youâre both willing to put into words.Â
The two of you stumble in unceremoniously, drunk off of something richer and more potent than alcohol.
If you were asked to recall what your conversation was about, you probably wouldnât be able to give an accurate recount. Your ears could only register the bright notes of his laughter, high and loose, yet familiar all the same. Something about the set, perhaps, or his nerves, but you really couldnât pay attention to much else other than his warm body against yours.
It feels like you were wrapped up in a warm bubble, away from the rest of the world. As the elevator ascends to the ninth floor in what feels like the longest ride ever, you find yourself welcoming the touch of his arms as they snake around your hips, pulling you real close.
Jae presses his lips against your hair, deeply inhaling the whiffs of shampoo that he only ever caught briefly on your morning coffee runs. It makes him lightheaded, but in the best way. âHmm,â He hums, and you feel rather than hear him mumble against your skin. âYou know, I love being around you.â
You giggle against his chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with the belt loops of his jeans. âReally?â
âYeah, I was never much of a morning person, but somehow you changed me.â Jae pulls away slightly, and you have to actively fight the whine that works up your throat at the lack of close contact. âI love how I am around you.â
âMe too.â You admit, looking deep into his eyes, unconsciously nodding and moving closer to him. Now that you got a taste of him, you couldnât bear being apart.Â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â
A few moments of silence follows, as the two of you sway in each otherâs arms. Jaeâs eyes break away from yours and travel slightly down, down, and down, towards your lips. As if on cue, you bite on your lips, heartbeat thundering against your ribcage.
âDonât,â He groans, pained. âDonât do that, youâre so distractingâŠâ
You laugh a little, but refuse.
Jae reaches to cup your face in his hand, his thumb working to pull your lips away. âCan IâŠâ He breathes, leaning in on instinct.Â
Ten seconds, you think, until you can finally indulge in your curiosities (recently, your waking thoughts are preoccupied by how it feels to have his lips touch yours).
âCan I⊠you know?â
You couldnât help laughing at his nervous demeanour. âWhat? I donât know.â
âY/N, pleaseâŠâ Jae whines, his thumb caressing the side of your cheek with a feather light touch, conveying his pleas. He hopes you get the message and stop torturing him already, for goodness sake. For what itâs worth, heâs waited long enough.
You shrug your shoulders, settling deeper into his hold, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact with someone who was always in your orbit but felt just beyond your reach.Â
Jae licks his own lips nervously. âI⊠Kiss⊠Can I ââ
You donât let him finish his sentence.Â
You grab him by the collar and pull him towards you. The moment your lips touch, the haziness in your mind clears. Nothing matters in that moment other than the feeling of him against you, pressed so impossibly close. Itâs like you woke up from a deep slumber, refreshed, or the first satisfying breath after being trapped in an enclosed place. Time slows as your lips move languidly against his, your hands exploring on its own accord, first trailing down his shirt, then up to hook behind his neck, clutching his hair in earnest. At the same time, he walks you backwards and presses you against the metal wall. His palm, big and warm, cradles your face in his grasp, as though youâre his most prized possession. You let him, melting in his touch.
The seconds pass in this way, the two of you too lost in each other to care about anything else around you. And you want to keep going too, if not for the inconvenience that is breathing.Â
You pull away reluctantly, filling your lungs with fresh air, taking a moment to recover because â what was that? You feel like your brain is turning into mush.
 Jae canât seem to get enough. He holds you close against him, his arms tightening around your middle, taking a big inhale as he buries his face in your neck.Â
âYou have no ideaâŠâ He begins, breathless. âNo idea how long Iâve waited to do thatâŠâ
You just giggle softly in response, not trusting your lips to form words yet. You just snuggle closer to him.
âDo you wanna come back to mine? Iâll order food.â
You nod shyly.
âAlso, whatâs taking this lift so longâŠâ He tears away from you briefly to stare at the buttons, only to realise that neither of you even pressed them in the first place.
Laughter spills from your lips at the mishap, clearly both of you were too caught up in each other to notice.
And so the rest of the night ends with lots of fried chicken, cheesy rom-coms and cuddling on his couch.Â
(Of course, he lets you steal the duvet at night, preferring to spoon you instead in search of warmth.)
(He lets you steal his hoodie too, and a t-shirt or two. Or a few.)
(And his heart.)














