#joo

he’s right, by the way.

you’re trying to focus on literally anything else—the pile of laundry you’ve been ignoring, the weird stain on the carpet, the meaning of life—but no, your brain’s like jooyeon’s neck, jooyeon’s neck, jooyeon’s—

you shift uncomfortably, trying to focus on the TV instead of, well, him. the way his hoodie hangs loose around his collarbones is driving you insane. you’ve been doing so well all weekend, keeping your thoughts appropriate, but now? now, the universe has you cornered.

“could you please get your neck away from me?” you blurt out, crossing your arms and leaning as far away as the couch allows. “i’ve fought so hard to remove that image of your neck i saw from pinterest on my mind, and i don’t think i can go through that again.”

jooyeon blinks at you, caught off guard. he freezes. did you just say you’ve been thinking about his neck?

suddenly, the fatigue that had been weighing him down for days? gone. vanished. wiped from existence. he feels alive.

his eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, you think he didn’t hear you. then, he bursts out laughing, the kind of laugh that makes his voice high-pitched, shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle, and okay, now this is worse.

“my neck?” he wheezes, clutching his stomach like you’ve just delivered the punchline of the century.

“yes, your neck!” you glare at him, but it’s hard to stay mad when he’s laughing like that. “someone posted that stupid picture of yours looking all worked up with your head thrown back and your veins showing— and oh my god, describing it is so weird but now i can’t look at you without thinking about it. so move. away.”

instead of moving away, he leans in closer, his face way too close to yours. “you’re saying you’re obsessed with my neck?”

“jooyeon, i swear to god—”

“no, no, go on,” he says, grinning like the menace he is. “tell me more about how my neck haunts your dreams.”

he’s losing it inside—but the way you’re burying your face in your hands makes his chest feel lighter, like he could run another concert right now, fueled entirely by your flustered energy.

“this is why i don’t tell you things,” you mumble, voice muffled.

“but you did,” he teases, poking your arm. “and now i’m never gonna let you forget it.”

you peek at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re obsessed with my neck.”

“oh my god, shut up.”

he laughs again, softer this time, and when you finally pull your hands away from your face, he’s looking at you with that stupidly fond expression that makes your chest feel all warm and weird.

“don’t worry,” he says, tilting his head with a smirk that should be illegal. “my neck’s all yours. if you want, you can even mark it up.”

your brain short-circuits so hard you can barely process his words. he tries stifling a laugh after he see you pause and your jaw literally drop. this’ll be worth it, he thought.

“what—who says that?!” you choke, smacking his shoulder like it’ll erase the memory.

he shrugs, all casual, like his insides aren’t doing somersaults. “i’m just saying, if you’re this obsessed, we might as well make it official.”

you grab a pillow and smack him square in the face. he yelps, laughing as he tries to shield himself, but you’re relentless, fueled by sheer embarrassment and the need to wipe that smirk off his stupidly handsome face.

“ow—hey! violence?!” he yelps, laughing as he tries to shield himself. his cheeks hurt from smiling, and his heart’s doing that weird thing again, the one it always does around you.

when you finally stop, breathless and red-faced, he leans back on the couch, watching you with the kind of quiet confidence that makes your stomach flip.

“you know,” he says, voice soft and teasing, “you’re kind of cute when you’re flustered.”

you groan, flopping back against the couch and covering your face again. and your boyfriend?

he just grins like an idiot, feeling more energized than he has in days.

you can have his neck.

you already have the rest of him, anyway.

—