#lune net

“We’re gonna fail this exam if you keep doing this,” you tut as you flip to the next page. The sentences from the previous one barely stick in your memory, the words a sepia-toned haze.

"That statement is entirely rhetorical and you know it," he whispers, still creating patterns on your skin that leave a fire in their wake with a smirk that could make you fold ten times over.

Ever since you met Nicholas, he's always been stubborn about his desires, big or small. If it’s something as simple as touching you, he’ll do so without a care for what or who might stand in his way. He doesn’t mind the stares and pays no attention to commentary, cares little for the secondhand consequences that come from his decisions. For all its drawbacks, his willingness to go after anything and everything makes him such a good audio engineering major and confident student.

Just when he's on the cusp of frustrating you, he reminds you why and how he pulls you in so easily, even if he’s not completely yours and you’re not his.

The touches in crowded rooms help, too, even if you'll never admit it.

“Yixi…” you sigh as his hand inches higher, leaving yours in your lap as he runs more curves and swirls into your thigh.

"Have I ever told you how much I love my name when you say it like that, all flustered and shit?"

"We can't do this here," you chide him with a forceful murmur, but it holds no weight when you lean into it, into him, with a small smile on your lips that matches his own.

"Nobody can see us," Nicholas promises as he continues his path upward, toying with the zipper of your jeans. The rings on his fingers clink against your belt, and the sound is almost heavenly. You want to do more, but all the things you envision in your mind still wouldn't be enough. "And I can control myself. Question is if you can, tiánxīn." The term of endearment leaves his lips like water, effortless in its usage but volcanic in its impact.

It clenches at your heart and twists it so beautifully, it almost stops you from remembering all the boundaries you keep crossing. You think most days and nights that, with the way you act around Nicholas and vice versa, you won't come out of the whole arrangement alive.

"No strings," you said in the quiet of your bedroom after that first time three months ago, dead-set on guidelines he would've been stupid not to agree with. He had just broken up with Yeri, and you were too consumed with school and work to think of maintaining a stable relationship.

Every day, you tell yourself it won't last long, even if you spend a secretly copious amount of time entertaining the idea of something beyond the physical with him. You'll become a fleeting memory when he goes back to his ex-girlfriend or finds a new slice one of these days, fading into the shadows of his life filled with fraternity parties, basketball practice, and rich kids. Standing in the peripheral vision of someone as magnanimous as Wang Yixiang is inevitable, predetermined like fate.

It's best to enjoy it while you can, but it's hard to do so when you and Nicholas blur the edges of what it means to be beneficial friends.

Breaking from your thoughts, you realize his lips are a hiccup from yours. One accidental push forward and they'll touch, right there in the library for everyone to witness. From the gleam in his eye, you can tell he couldn't care less. He practically goads you to do it, hiking one eyebrow up at you in jest so you take the ultimate step.

Before you can do so, three people advance towards your study table. You recognize Taki and Maki from miles away, Nicholas's fraternity brothers donning red and bleach-blond hair, respectively. The third person, Nicholas's ex-girlfriend Yeri, is who makes your blood turn cold, her perfectly composed makeup and outfit dominating the entire room.

You retreat immediately from Nicholas's side, going back to staring down at your textbook and scribbling something quickly in the margin to look busy. Nicholas doesn't remove his hand from your jeans, but you feel it flex against your skin like he's just been burned.

"Hey, Nicho," Maki says to Nicholas with a wide smile, his teeth practically blinding. "Was wondering where you ran off to."

Nicholas takes his attention off of you and looks up at the younger kid, suppressing a scowl. "I told you I'd be in the library until 7. It's 5:45," he deadpans, saying the words with a calculated method he's never used with you.

"We were just making sure you remembered to bring the keg since the party's at 8," Taki adds. "I know Study Buddy keeps you busy."

Study Buddy, your official title to the PSI horde Nicholas hangs out with. You should feel hurt by the lack of address, being talked about instead of to like you're not even there. But Riki #1 and #2 don't have two brain cells to rub together, according to Euijoo and Harua, so there's no point in feeling provoked by their tactics.

"And you couldn't tell me that in a text?" Nicholas asks, jaw ticking.

Yeri pipes in with, "She's not coming, is she?" She tilts her head in your direction, black hair swishing, but you just continue reading the same line in your textbook over and over to avoid responding.

Strings, woodwinds, brass. Strings, woodwinds, brass. Fuck Yeri and her lackeys. Strings, woodwinds, brass…

"I don't think you have any business saying who does and doesn't come around my house," Nicholas bites back. "What are you planning on doing there, anyway? Need to find some fresh meat now that Sungho's dropped you? Wasn't it Jungwon last week?"

Yeri's bottom lip purses as she crosses her arms. "Just don't want people hanging around our group that'll feel uncomfortable, obviously."

Nicholas laughs, the sound as artificial as Yeri's nails. He removes his hand from your leg to emphasize the space between him and Yeri animatedly. "We don't have an our anymore. Haven't for a long time now, and I prefer it that way." Nicholas turns back to the red and yellow-haired meatheads with indifference. "I'll bring the beer. Let me get back to studying for my exam, yeah?"

The two guys skitter off as Yeri stomps away, and you exhale the breath you were holding in their presence.

Nicholas inches forward until his chest is flush with your side, invading your space the same way he was before the trio crashed your study session. "You okay?" he asks into the curve of your shoulder, lips stroking the skin like a paintbrush, gentle in its touches.

You nod slightly, the gesture the only thing you can manage. Normally, despite your introverted nature, you rarely let others make you feel small or leave a conversation like that without saying something in your own defense. But what could you possibly say that would make the passive aggressiveness sting less? Were they right? Would it make more sense for Nicholas to be anywhere but right next to you?

"Words, tiánxīn. Are you alright?" His words are so featherlight they clash with the deep timbre of his voice, and all your worries could melt from that alone if you weren't so absorbed by your own doubts.

You turn so you're looking directly at him and nod once more. "They're right, though. I don't belong at some big Psi Sigma Iota party."

"You belong with me," he says. It warms you down to your soles how easily he says those four words. "Even if it's at some trashy fraternity bender."

You giggle. "You know you're talking about your own fraternity, right?"

Nicholas grins and rolls his eyes. "I told you. I only joined because Kei needed a friend during Rush week."

"Right." Out of habit, you run your index finger over his plush bottom lip, no longer concerned with the attention of anyone else in the library, too lost in Nicholas to care about the reactions from your peers.

Nicholas leans into your hand, kissing your skin like it's all he cares to do with his time. "We still have an hour to kill," he says, "and there may be a stack upstairs with our names on it."

"Oh really?" You bite your lip. You used to be the girl who never socialized, stayed glued to books like it was her job, and kept her circle small. Now, Nicholas has you contemplating a quickie in a public place with serious intentions of accepting his offer.

As you pack up your stuff with a lust-clouded brain, you know for sure this thing with Nicholas can only end two ways, and you pray he won't leave you broken in the aftermath.

Yeri finds you before your next Musicology class with a deep grimace on her face. It was bad enough your shift at the coffee shop ended with a customer threatening to throw their "incorrectly-made" iced macchiato at you, but seeing Yeri now leaves an even worse taste in your mouth.

"This thing you have with Nicho, what is it?" she asks with no preamble. You appreciate her willingness to get straight to the point, but you're still taken aback. It's been ninety-days, ninety-five if you were being technical, since they had anything to do with each other. And they dated for only six months, which Nicholas called "some of the worst of his life."

"What are you, his mother?" You chuckle, mystified. "And I don't know what you're talking about, anyway."

"Don't play dumb."

"Not that it's any of your concern, but we're just study partners. Nothing more."

"You let study partners get that close to you in the library?" She blows out a breath. "Better be careful. Your reputation as the meek little nerd'll be over in a flash if you keep that up."

You take a step forward, boots landing hard on the tile floor of the hallway. Yeri's thrown off kilter by your advance, and it makes you smirk. "I suggest you go back to wherever your Lambo is parked and mind your fucking business."

She scoffs and makes her way to the glass doors of the building. Before she goes, high heels clacking like nails on a chalkboard, she holds one door so she can turn and say, "Just know that you're not the first person he's taken to the stacks. And you'll gain more than your fair share of the freshman fifteen if you keep eating takeout from Choi's."

Your eyes widen before you can stop them, your reaction being exactly what Yeri wants to see. She leaves you to stew with a smug grin on her face, getting the last word that knocks you off your feet.

You feel your heart crawl into your throat, the name of the fast-food restaurant you and Nicholas often frequent ringing in your ears. Choi's is one of the best spots in town within an affordable price-point, you reason. It has nothing to do with Nicholas's past. But how much do you really know about him, anyway? What important details have you gleaned from the ninety-five days he's spent in and out of your bed?

You hear Nicholas call your name from the other end of the hallway, and you can see his pink hair flowing without having to look back at him. You let the worries of your mind fall away when you turn around, plastering a smile on your face before he can question it. "Hey."

"We're gonna be late. You didn't have to wait for me." He pulls you in softly by the neck and kisses your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. It's another display of affection entirely out of the bounds of normal for your relationship, but you give in to it like you always do, because it feels nice to let yourself get swept up in him and his attention. To allow him to hold you close and keep the shadows away for as long as possible.

"We still on for studying after you get out of Humanities later?"

Your face scrunches up at his question. "I thought you had basketball practice after school."

"Was gonna skip it. Figured we could run by Choi's, split the galbitang you like."

You gulp a hefty breath of air at the sound of that name and hold the strap of your backpack tighter to your chest. "Maybe another night. I'm actually not feeling too well."

Nicholas runs a hand over the place he just kissed and laughs after another beat. "You're not running hot or anything."

"No, i-it's probably just a stomach bug. Euijoo wasn't feeling that great at the coffee shop this morning either."

Nicholas's smile slowly fades, comfort turning into confusion. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, I can tell when you're not being honest." He presses his fingers to your face before cupping the left side of your jaw in his hand. "Your bottom lip quivers right before you lie."

Damn Nicholas Wang and his perceptiveness. You close your eyes, trying your hardest not to let the entire truth spill out of your mouth.

"Talk to me, tiánxīn," he says with raw sincerity, his eyes burning golden brown.

"Just got into it with Yeri, but I'm fine. It was nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's got you worked up like this." He runs his thumb across your cheek in slow circles and frowns. "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"And say what? I'm not your girlfriend, Yixi. You don't need to stick up for me."

Something flashes over his face, his frown set into something firmer, sadder and more solid. "Right." He steps away from you an inch, and it feels like a chasm has erupted between you.

You sigh. "Can we just forget this happened and go to class, please?"

"Sure, yeah, whatever you want." His words are clipped, straight to the point, but you know him the same way he does you. His emotions bleed through everything, as much as he tries to deny it. And you know he's pissed.

He says nothing throughout class, and you feel worse somehow for not hiding your conversation with Yeri better. Then you wouldn't be in such a predicament right now, worried about what Nicholas is thinking as you both write down notes you barely need.

Once your professor lets you out of class, Nicholas mutters something about not wanting to be late for practice, and your heart sinks watching him walk away with tense shoulders and not a single glance back at you.

You found him in the music room a week after the fall semester started, and a week before your relationship would change forever.

He was playing a song you didn't recognize on the piano, one with a beautiful melody that bled into a faster-paced bridge.

"I'm sorry," you said when he caught you staring, interrupting his playing. "I was looking for Mrs. Lee, and I just—"

"No, it's fine, really." His small smile sent a shot straight to your heart; your new classmate was not as scary as you initially predicted from his chocolate brown eyes, deep voice, and even darker clothing. "I was almost done anyway. You're in my Musicology class, right?"

You nodded, grinning. "Yeah, I sit in the back most of the time. Didn't think you noticed me."

He nodded back and ran his fingers along the keys in front of him. "It's hard not to notice you when you get all of the professor's questions right. We just started and you're showing everyone up already."

You blushed. "That wasn't my intention."

"No! It's okay, I like it."

He beckoned you to come closer, and you hesitated for a moment. You knew he had a girlfriend, her presence made known in the times you saw Nicholas entering class and Yeri running back to her own with a scowl on her face.

You sat down next to him on the bench and avoided brushing his shoulder with your own. "I'm Y/N."

"I know," Nicholas said with a smirk. "I'm Yixiang. But most people call me Nicholas. You can call me whatever you want."

He held his hand out for you to take, and his palm was so warm in yours, you should've known from that moment on that he would become far more than your seasonal classmate.

"This is a bad idea," Euijoo comments as you drag him by the hand into the fraternity house, PSI lit up with rambunctious partygoers and flashing neon lights. There's almost no room for the two of you to walk inside, but you make do in your efforts to grab drinks immediately from the island in the kitchen. You heard offhand comments from classmates about the party, and being off of work tonight gave you the perfect excuse to bring along your friend as a buffer.

"Come on, we don't have to stay for long! I just thought it'd be fun," you comment, although it's partly a lie.

You haven't spoken to Nicholas in two days, the longest you've gone without communication since you started spending time with him. You miss him so much it makes your muscles ache. It wouldn't hurt to scout the party for him to see what he's been up to, and if he's spending his night with someone who isn't you.

You search past the throng of people for Nicholas, recognizing some of his fraternity brothers in your search for him. There are some kids making out, others taking hits of joints, and a few even sleeping in the recliner chairs around the room. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot him against the wall with a beer in his hand, talking solemnly with a younger kid you don't know.

His hair is now dyed red, a stark color against the blue and purple lights strewn about the living room. He's wearing a tank top with a pair of baggy cargo jeans, the fit so perfect on him it's almost unfair. You yearn to go up to him and put your fingers through the loops of his pants, to pull him as close to you as possible and kiss him so everybody knows whose name he calls at night.

You're about to take the trek over to Nicholas's spot when Yeri comes up in the crowd to talk to him. He doesn't give her much attention, but he doesn't push her off or tell her to get lost. He splits his attention between his young friend and her, and the sight gnaws at your stomach.

"I don't know what you see in him," Euijoo comments from over your shoulder.

You take a sip from your solo cup to steady your nerves. "He's different from the others. You don't get it."

"You're right, I don't."

"He really is, Juju. I bet you would get along if you got to know him," you suggest, but you know your best friend won't go for it. You're more extroverted than Euijoo, but not by much, and he keeps his circle even tighter than yours.

"Maybe. I just hope you know what you've gotten yourself into," Euijoo comments before drinking from his own cup.

When you turn your attention away from Euijoo to point back at Nicholas, you find him already staring at you with a soft smile on his face. Meeting his eyes, his brown orbs twinkling in a way they weren't during his conversation moments before, the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. Your body buzzes from more than just the booze, and you wonder how much longer it'll take for him to cross the distance between you.

In the next second, he whispers something in his friend's ear before bee-lining over to you, his smile widening. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Surprise?"

He chuckles and kisses you on the cheek, his breath smelling of mint gum and whiskey. It's not a combination you would think to pair together, but because it's Nicholas, you think he can make any scent appealing. "Come with me."

You tell Euijoo you'll be back soon before following behind Nicholas, your hand wrapped tightly in his. You know he's leading you to his bedroom upstairs, but Maki stops you both before you even make it to the staircase.

"Nicho, Study Buddy! We were just about to play TDB."

"TDB?" you ask curiously.

"Truth or Dare or Bottle," Maki responds, "Not the greatest name for a game, but it's fun! Mixes Spin the Bottle and Truth or Dare together." He waggles his eyebrows, and some part of you worries how well this game ends up going for its participants.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," Nicholas says in your ear.

"No, let's do it. I'm down to play," you say, because it's true. Perhaps taking part in their pedestrian games will help you be seen as an equal in Nicholas's group rather than an outsider.

"Perfect!" Maki exclaims.

He motions with his drink for you both to join him in the sitting room off of the main hallway, and you see the group of people willing to play on the floor around the sectional. "Alright, two new players!"

You and Nicholas sit next to each other, and you scoot in closer when Yeri steps into the room with a lipstick-lined grin. She doesn't say a word, but she doesn't need to.

The game goes like normal, a handful of dares and truths passed around between the group that make some of you laugh or gag, or both. By the time your turn is up, you steel your nerves and pick "Truth" to be safe.

"How many guys have you slept with in the past six months?" Yeri asks abruptly, her cheshire grin spreading.

Nicholas flicks his head in her direction and gives her a piercing glare, but you put your hand on his shoulder to quell him.

"One," you answer. You take a swig of your beer and swallow down your irritation.

"Your turn, Nicho," Taki says.

Nicholas chooses dare, and you see Yeri pounce before anyone can stop her.

"Tell us how many people you've slept with in the past six months, Nicho." She says the nickname with venom, her remaining words breathy in their delivery.

"What the fuck, Yeri?" Maki asks, confused why she's taking it so far.

"I could probably answer for him, actually," she says with a laugh when Nicholas remains silent. "There was me, a lot. That one girl Chaewon you wanted to have a threesome with but didn't tell me about until after we had that break, so that's two. Oh! And we're forgetting—"

"Yeri, shut the fuck up before I drag you out of here," Nicholas warns, his jaw tensing and the muscles in his shoulders flexing hard.

"That's not even including how many girls he's kissed in between all of that," Taki interjects with a small laugh.

You feel incredibly exposed, unsure how to go about moving forward with such information Nicholas didn't give you the courtesy of knowing. You leave the circle immediately and run to the nearest doorway, trying to find your way out of the house with what feels like a million eyes on you. The urge to throw up is present in your gut, but you don't and won't feel safe to do so until you're back in your room away from the chaos of the party. You don't even try to find Euijoo; you just run.

But you're not the only one running.

Nicholas calls your name as he follows you out of the house and onto the front yard.

"Wait, goddamnit!" Nicholas yanks you back in by the hand. He runs his arms long your sides, terrified to let you go before he can explain himself, but it's all static in your ears. "Don't listen to their bullshit, please? It's not important."

"It is to me," you croak, stunned and shattered. "I feel like I don't know you."

Nicholas tries to reach out and touch your face, but you flinch. His own expression sets in a firm line, although it remains soft at the edges. "I'm me, tiánxīn. I'm your wise-ass study partner, remember?"

You shake your head, tears falling down your face rapidly. Some folks on the lawn are looking at you with confusion and pity, but you don't care right now. Not when your heart is breaking. "So I'm just supposed to let all the things I heard in there slide? Believe you when you say I'm enough for you when that's clearly not the case?"

With each question, your voice goes up a decibel, the alcohol making you brave in the face of all of your insecurities bubbling up to the surface.

"All of that stuff was before I ever met you. It has nothing to do with us."

"Sure." You bite down on your lip so hard the skin threatens to bleed.

"Think about it, Y/N. How many girls have I looked at since I've started seeing you?" he barks. "None, not a single one. I don't need anyone else, or want anyone else. All I want is everything I have with you."

"Why, because I fuck you too well for you to look elsewhere? And when that's not enough, what then?" You shed more tears as you shield yourself with your arms, stepping further away and staving off any attempts for Nicholas to break through the barriers of your fears.

He yanks at the sweaty ends of his hair, exasperated. "After all the time we've spent together, you think that all I care about is getting my dick wet?"

You say nothing, your tongue feeling like cotton and voice hoarse from exertion. Your silence is all he needs to hear, anyway.

His eyes burn as he says, "If you really think the only thing I want from you is sex—that all I see you as is some girl to screw around with—then you should just go. Now!" He raises his hand toward the lamp-lit street behind you, his arm shaking with anger.

You take another step back, stunned at how matter-of-fact he's being. The only thing that keeps you from falling apart all over the front lawn of the PSI house is Euijoo's hand suddenly clasping your arm. "Let's just leave, alright?"

The last picture you have of Nicholas is his chest heaving and his face wet from a mixture of sweat and tears, and you don't know if you'll ever erase such a sight from your memory.

As Euijoo drives you back to your dorm, your heart broken in a million fragments, you realize you should have listened to your friend and never pursued something with a guy like Nicholas.

The week without Nicholas has been painstakingly dull, grey and hollow in all the spaces he used to occupy.

You skipped class twice this week to avoid him and instead took a couple of extra shifts to fill the time, not wanting to waste away in your dorm room with only thoughts of him to make you feel worse. It wasn't much, but it was better than stewing in your misery.

Cut to today, eight days later, and you're somewhat on the mend, still keeping yourself occupied but stuck in an endless loop of suffering through the tint of Nicholas clouding your thoughts.

You and Euijoo are cleaning dirty mugs when Maki walks into the café, hoodie pulled up to fight the rain. Euijoo immediately steps in front of you before you can say anything, shoulders squared and expression gruff. "Whatever bullshit you're about to spew, I suggest you get out of here now before you're thrown out."

"All I want is a coffee man, I swear." Maki raises both of his hands in peace, and you put a hand on Euijoo's shoulder to prove you're okay with the younger guy coming inside.

"Just leave us for a second, okay? I'll be fine."

Euijoo flits his gaze between you both before nodding his head, going to the backroom to leave you and Maki alone.

"What can I get you?" you ask first, approaching the register with a steel tone.

"Iced Americano?"

You tap in the order and take Maki's cash from his hands, noticing the slight tremble in them when you take the bills and coins.

"So, I haven't seen you around," Maki notes as you whip up his order, and your eye roll is all you need to give him to kill his appetite for small talk.

You respond anyway. "Was I supposed to come around after whatever the hell happened that night?"

"I mean— Nicho's just been in a shit mood ever since. Figured it's because something happened between the both of you."

You say nothing following that comment, your heart sore from hearing Nicholas isn't faring any better than you are right now.

You hand Maki his drink, the cup already sweating from the melting ice, and he thanks you for the speedy service.

Before he leaves, he reaches into his pocket to pull out a couple of wrinkled pieces of paper and set on the countertop in front of you.

"I'll probably get killed for giving these to you, seeing as they were in the trash, but it's the least I can do after the shit my friends pulled on you before. And you deserve to know how Nicho really feels about you."

He gives you a small smile and walks out of the café, leaving you to read the contents of the documents alone.

One of them is a piece of sheet music, your name written at the top in quick squiggles. Even though the song is unfinished, with only the first few verses and half the chorus written without lyrics, you can still hear the strands of it in your ears as if it's coming through the shop's speakers. It brings a tear to your eye, its beauty enthralling. But what really makes the waterworks come is on the second page, a letter entirely penned with handwriting you could recognize anywhere.

I'm not good at being vulnerable, Y/N, but the one thing you deserve above all else is honesty, so here it goes.

Do you remember the first night you stayed over my place? I snuck you into the fraternity house when everyone was at some dumb sorority party across campus. We spent almost the entire night talking about music, even though we both had class in the morning. We didn't care, getting into it about what makes the perfect melody like we had all the time in the world to break it down together.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like someone saw me for who I was, not the fraternity brother who intimidates most people. It reminded me of when you interrupted me in the music room the first day we ever spoke. I was just a guy with a piano who played a song you were interested in hearing. And you've mesmerized me ever since.

And if I'm being completely honest here, there's another thing you need to know.

I told you before that the reason I broke up with Yeri was that she was getting too clingy and overbearing, and while a part of that was true, another reason we ended things was because of you. Well, because of me, really, and my feelings for you. Yes, I didn't know you very well back then, but what I felt for you in only a few days eclipsed everything I ever felt for her.

I've fallen harder for you every day. I love the way you don't let others' perceptions of me shadow your own, for your silly ramblings about the circle of fifths and that being your favorite form of pillow talk, how you take all of me beyond face value. We may come from different backgrounds, have particular interests, possess unique dreams, but I love that about you, too. About us.

I love you, tiánxīn, more than I've ever loved anyone else and in a way I never have before. I'm terrified once I tell you this, how you see me will change for the worst. Maybe that's why I've been holding this in, because I don't want to lose you. But love means there's always the chance of loss, and what we have is worth the possibility of heartbreak.

My heart is yours anyway. Break it; don't break it. Do with it as you see fit.

You find him in the music room again, a little over a hundred days later, the same song playing from the keys the day you first met.

You stand by as he continues the song, the ending notes of the bridge you remember so vividly piercing the air. It gives way to the final chorus, and it's just as beautiful as the first time you ever heard it. He also looks as devastatingly handsome from the back as he did all those months ago, neck veins on display from the cover of his denim jacket.

Nicholas senses someone behind him, and his shoulders slump before saying, "I'm leaving in a few minutes—" When he turns, finally seeing you there with teary eyes, his face contorts into a subtle but earth-shatteringly solid line. He doesn't know whether to frown or smile at you; you can tell. And he's quiet, deadly so. On your end, you don't know whether to run immediately into his arms or leave him be.

You choose neither, instead standing firm and trying to muster some piece of courage. Pulling the crumpled papers from your pocket, you reread some of Nicholas's writing. "You said that there's always the chance of loss with love, right?"

His eyes widen. "Where did you get that?"

You ignore the question. "Well, I've already lost you once, and I don't want to do it again. Not when the two of us have a lot left to say. Or rather, I do.

"I love you because you're incredibly headstrong, some would say bullheaded, talented by every definition known to man, and devastatingly handsome. Most of all, I love that you don't let the opinions of others guide you. You follow your own heart, your own compass, in a way that I admire every day.

"I love you, Wang Yixiang," you say, voice interlaced with unshed tears. "I've been in love with you for a while now, and I don't want to hide from it anymore."

That's all it takes for Nicholas to leap from the piano bench and launch into your arms. He entangles his hands in your hair and captures your lips in a devastatingly deep kiss, your tongues linking immediately. It's a week's long amount of pain that you spill into each other's mouths, eager to make up for lost time and catch up on what you both have been missing.

When you part, he rests his forehead on yours and smiles so wide it makes your heart ache with relief. "What took you so long, tiánxīn?"

You giggle and peck his lips once more. "I could ask you the same thing, Yixi."

He shakes his head and runs his fingers along your face. "We've been pretty stupid, haven't we?"

You nod, agreeing.

He kisses you again, sweet and slow, before taking your hand in his to leave the music room, going anywhere the wind takes you now that you're together.

Nicholas takes you back to the PSI fraternity house, immediately running up the stairs to his bedroom and caging you against the door. His movements are unrehearsed, unpracticed, yet he touches and kisses like he's done a million times before. As expected, all of it makes your cheeks burn wildly and your body hum for him like a guitar, plucked with the utmost care for him alone to admire.

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip before sinking his teeth into the plush skin. It makes you moan, and he eagerly swallows it with his mouth.

"I missed all the beautiful sounds you make when I'm this close to you, pretty," Nicholas murmurs, running his hands under your shirt to squeeze at your hips.

He shucks the fabric off of your skin and takes off your bra too in order to gain access to the swell of your breasts, toying with one of your nipples with his teeth. He suckles like it's the best thing he's ever felt between his lips, and you writhe in his hold from the small contact alone. Already, he's got you by the throat, your desire for him too deep to measure.

His hands work of their own accord as they go lower, removing your jeans and underwear in one swoop. You're completely naked before him in record time, all while he's still fully clothed.

"Weno," you whimper as his hand finally touches the cleft of your thighs, fingers gathering wetness from the pool of arousal that coats your pussy.

He murmurs in Mandarin So fucking beautiful before he's picking you up into his arms. He lays you down gently onto the bed, covering your body with his own once you're resting comfortably on his mattress.

Nicholas kisses his way down your body, savoring every inch, all while he's discarding his own clothes to put in a heap next to the bed. Denim jacket, tank top, baggy jeans. All of it is discarded by the time his breath is ghosting over your cunt, his underwear the last garment covering his beautiful skin.

He licks a long and deliberate stripe between your legs, stopping with the curl of his tongue at your clit, and you moan unabashedly, eager to let the sinful sounds rip from your throat. "That's it, tiánxīn. Let everyone know who you belong to," Nicholas goads, "Who I belong with."

He buries his face in your pussy, getting his chin and mouth soaked in your essence with the way he messily devours you. It's all building, the heavy feeling in your gut that's almost too much to bear. It's an exercise of restraint not to fall apart so quickly on his tongue after only a few minutes, but how can you not? You're building for him, because of him, to heights that only he's ever been able to take you to.

He slips his fingers inside of you, two ring-covered digits that feel both burning hot and icy cold, and after only a few moments of him scissoring you open and toying with your clit, you fall apart on his tongue. You feel boneless by the time he removes his face and hand from your pussy, but you know he's not done. Not even close.

"Open those beautiful legs for me, pretty. I want one more outta you," he commands with a sultry tone as he uncovers himself, his dick smacking against his abdomen with pre-cum pearling at the tip. Without question, you spread them wide for him to slide between.

He glides inside with ease after he lines himself up with your entrance, panting into your mouth at the feeling of you squeezing him tightly the second he slips in. "Fuck, I missed you," he says, his eyes boring into yours with raw emotion.

You keen under him and wrap your legs around him tighter, wanting him as close as possible. "I love you," you whisper into his mouth.

"I love you more," he replies before thrusting his hips sharply. You gasp into his mouth with every snap of his lower half into you, and you clamp down on his arms with your hands to take all the force he's giving you. Reaching your peak, you're unsure if you're unraveling so fast because of how long you've been without him or not, but you don't care. You want to fall apart again sooner rather than later.

"That's it, pretty, take all of it," he grunts when he bottoms out for the umpteenth time. "Such a perfect pussy, wrapped so tight around me."

"Jesus, Weno, I need to come," you whine on his tongue.

"Do it, tiánxīn. I'm close too, want to come with you," he pants. He quickly presses his hand between your bodies to flick at your clit hard and fast, and the cusp of your climax comes. You see white feverish light behind your eyes as you let your body burn in the throes of your orgasm.

Nicholas follows behind with breathless moans of your name and curses, spilling so deeply inside of you that you can feel the warmth of his release in your bones. He doesn't slide out of you, even when his hips slow. He stays intertwined with you as he rolls you both over. His back sticks to the bed as you stretch your body across the top of his, worn out but glowing.

"So, I guess this means I'm your girlfriend now, right?" you ask rhetorically once you've both caught your breath, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

Nicholas chuckles and squeezes you tightly against his chest. "If you know what's good for you. You're all mine now, tiánxīn," he whispers into the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.

As if I wasn't already yours, you think to yourself as you drift. In the moments before slumber takes you, you realize you've never felt more at home in your life than when you're in between Nicholas's arms. And when your eyes close for the night, knowing you'll wake up to the man who calls himself yours, you know your dreams cannot compare to the reality that is right now.

🏷️ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@yvampyr @prkhaven @filmnings @nephynes @lunegenic @hoonieyun @v4mpnicho @guliexe @starryjake @jsbluu

it's not like you didn't want to kiss him like, all the time. but the thing was… no one knew you were dating.

you were like a part of the family since you two met in middle school; you were his best friend. the lines between your friendship and something more were getting blurry, and it was only a matter of time before you turned into lovers.

the issue was that his (and your) parents didn't know yet. and you preferred it stayed this way, since even though it was maki, your maki, your parents wanted you to focus on school.

and his… well, you were sure they thought of you more like a daughter of theirs.

"are you done with the baking? can we do something fun now?" he asked, swaying you both gently.

"well, actually…" you hummed, tilting your head. "we need your help with the rolling pin. the dough won't budge"

"ah" maki rolled his eyes. "using me for my muscles… rude"

"okay, shut up. first, your mom asked me to ask you. second of all, i know you just looove bragging and putting your beefy arms to good use" you whined and playfully jabbed his waist. maki let out a small squeal.

"fine, i'll do it. just to pretend i don't see you staring at them by the way" he teased and grinned. "for a kiss, though"

"offer accepted" you stood on your tiptoes and placed your lips against his. maki smiled into the kiss, the evidence of you snacking on the chocolate very much palpable on your lips. your hands sneaked to the pockets of his jeans, while his just manhandled your head for a better angle.

"y/n!" maki's mom voice reached you unexpectedly, and you two jolted away.

"coming!" you yelled back and stepped away.

"me too!" maki added. he went to open the door but felt a sudden slap on his butt. he turned around, wide-eyed. "girl!"

"sorry, it was stronger than me!" you just laughed and signaled him to go.

you didn't realize that your hands left a floury hand print on his ass.

"thank you, dear" his mom smiled upon seeing her rosy-cheeked son. maki got to work, heart bumping in his chest with adrenaline/ and just when he heard you come into the kitchen, his mom let out a small gasp, looking at the white trace on his jeans. "what's that?"

and that's how you knew you fucked up.

masterlist <3

“are you gonna pay for gas?” he brings the blunt to his lips for yet another hit.

“no.” your hand instinctively reaches out for the blunt once he was done, only to be met with nothing but smoke when nicholas pulls it even further away from you.

“then I'm keeping the ac off.”

he stares at how flush your skin has gotten and pays even closer attention to how heavy your breaths are. you’re still trying to reach over and get a hold on the blunt. you prop yourself up on the handbrake while your other hand stretches out across nico’s torso, the smoke from his fresh exhale tickling your skin.

“hand it over, dude. you need to stop anyway, aren’t you driving back home?”

his hand is pretty much out the window and in the open at this point, whereas his eyes remain on you.

“I'll be completely fine, thank you.” his free hand lands on your waist, “looks like you’re struggling quite a bit, though.”

the shirt you’re wearing isn’t even that thin, yet his touch startles you and you’re suddenly met with his face mere centimeters away.

“give me the blunt.”

his gaze travels from his hand on you all the way up to your eyes. he doesn’t even know why he’s so worked up, but all he knows for sure right now is that he desperately needs you to stay right where you are.

“go on, take it from me.”

he stares straight daggers into you. your skin starts to tingle. it’s finally hitting, but you swear it couldn’t come at a worse time.

“what are you playing at, nico?” you feel his warm breaths against your skin. “give me the fucking blunt.”

his tongue swipes across his lower lip. “no.”

you’re done with his shit. “whatever,” you roll your eyes and right as you’re about to sit back down, his grip on your waist tightens.

“don’t move.” his voice is almost a whisper, you wouldn’t be able to hear it if you weren’t mere inches from him.

he pulls his hand back inside and raises the blunt to his lips. his lidded eyes are trained on you while he takes a slow, long hit. you think he's finally going to hand it over so you reach out. that's when his other hand that was on your waist shoots up to you jaw and pulls you close. the sudden action throws you off balance but nico steadies you when he pulls your lips onto his.

"breathe," he mutters under his breath before blowing the smoke from his hit into your mouth. it stings less than usual when it travels through you. he doesn't let you breathe it out immediately. rather, his lips keep sucking on yours, his teeth brushing over your lower lip, his tongue poking and prying your lips open.

"what are you doing?" it's hard to focus when your body feels engulfed in heat. from the weed or emanating from his body, you're not sure. your fingers don't feel like your own when they go from holding you up to twisting in his shirt. your body feels weightless as you climb over the center console onto nico's lap.

you finally get a chance to breathe out when nico pulls away, his lips swollen and red. you can't feel anything else inside your mouth other than the strange tingling sensation behind your teeth. you crave nico's mouth against yours again to dull it.

he takes one final hit of his blunt before putting it out. his eyes rake down your body, his vision all blurry except for the sight of you.

"hey, I still wanted to hit that." you stare down at him with your brows furrowed.

"don't worry, pretty." he chuckles before pulling you close again, "you can have more later."

his lips are back on yours. his grip around your waist tightens. his warm palm on your jaw is all you can feel while your brain hones in on his lips. how they're slightly chapped and bitten, how his breath fans over your skin whenever he pulls back to take a quick breath. how his tongue swipes over his lips before going back and indulging in the warmth of your lips. you can't even tell if your eyes are open or not because all you see is bursts of white and nico's sharp eyes staring at you from under his eyelids.

you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. anything to get you through this trip, you thought. his hair feels soft. you tug his head back a little, far enough to catch a glimpse of his smirk.

"what the fuck was in that blunt?" your grip still tight in his hair. "doesn't feel like your usual shit."

his hand nudges at the skin under your shirt. "finally caught on?" his touch sends fiery chills up your spine. your body feels like it's floating and grounded at the same time. nico's hardness under you sits too well against your heat.

"friend hooked me up with a new strain," he glances down to your thighs draped over his lap. "said it's laced with something else. guess that something else is really doing it for you, huh?"

"shut up." you dive down into his lips again. this time driving forward with your tongue, reaching as far as you could. the strain in your thighs disappear as you grind onto him, swallowing his moans and the deep vibrations coming off his chest.

nico's hand travel up your spine, leaving a burning trail in its wake. he swiftly unhooks your bra and a wave of relief washes over you as your exposed nipples finally get the chance to brush against him. he flips the front of your shirt up and braw along with it and instantly latches his lips around your nipple.

you keep moving in messy circles on his ever hardening cock.

"fuck nico, I need you right now." your hips begin to stutter as you begin to lose awareness of your own body.

his hands move to grip your hips, helping you grind along with his sparse, and admittedly involuntary, thrusts up into you.

"when do you have to head back?" he releases your nipple with a wet pop.

you finally remember where you were, and where you're supposed to be right now. "in like fifteen minutes."

he licks a long stripe up your neck and end at your ear. the grooves on his tongue feel like sandpaper against your skin. "then get in the back." he pulls your shirt off you and throws your bra into the passenger seat. "now."

you hastily nod, and to the best of your ability, cross over the center console and into the backseat. nico gets the driver's side door, shutting it before climbing in with you in the back.

he sits back and works on unbuckling his belt, all while you crawl into the tight space between his legs and the back of the front seat.

"now put that those pretty lips to use." he looks down at you, his eyes barely able to focus on the way you purse your plump lips before placing small kitten licks up his angry shaft. your warm breath against his tip sending waves of heat all the way up his neck. he takes your hair in a harsh grip, "keep teasing me and you're not walking out of this parking lot later."

you press your fingertips into his clenched thighs as you take his leaking tip into your mouth. his precum coating your tongue with a delicious saltiness. you can't feel the pain in your jaw as you take him deeper, the tingle on your scalp and the heat pooling between your legs taking priority.

"that's a good fucking girl." he stares at how your lips wrap around his cock, thrusting up slightly to meet your desperate bobs. your spit pools around the of his cock, dripping down your chin and neck.

"you're gonna take it all, yeah?" he holds your head still as he begins to thrust up harder and faster into the warm chasm of your mouth. "all my cum, you're gonna take it." tears start to blur your vision and the tingling in the back of your throat grows to one that burns worse with every harsh thrust. but you take it, your tongue, your lips, your throat, all welcoming the intrusion.

he throws his head back as you gag around his cock. "fuck," he mutters quiet and barely coherent curses as he unloads into your mouth and down your throat. your lips are still latched tight around him, letting his cum pour into your mouth. you feel full already.

once he settles down, he looks at you. his deep red hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, and pupils so dilated you wonder if it's from the blunt or not. "up."

you don't need to be told twice as you climb up and hoist yourself onto the seat. he instantly turns and presses your body until your back touches the cool leather. he makes quick work of your sweats and throws them into the front seat.

he plays with the hem of your panties as he stares at the wet spot between your legs, his tongue wetting his lips. "someone's excited." he presses his knuckles up against the wet spot and chuckles. "need me that bad, huh?"

"stop talking and fuck me already, nico." your toes clench despite there being little to no friction. you feel the imprint of his rings against your clit through the wet fabric. "fucking asshole."

"guess getting high as fuck still doesn't quell that dirty little mouth of yours." he pulls off your panties and stuffs them in your mouth. "maybe this will help."

you're about to object but all that remains of your coherent thoughts immediately vanish when his lips wrap around you. using his fingers to spread you open, he sucks and nibbles at your clit, not letting up until you dig your nails into his scalp. not that he's done, though, he slides his tongue down your folds and prods at your leaking entrance, groaning at the scent of your heat.

"all ready for me," he mutters before pushes his tongue in. his fingers that were previously spreading you open move to pinch at your swollen bud.

you see bursts of white. you don't know whether they're real or not because you can't even tell if your eyes are open or not. you realize your mouth is agape but you're unsure how loud you're being. every time you breath out, your warm breath stings the back of your teeth.

to nicholas, the pretty gasps and pants dripping from you is like music to his ears. he presses his tongue up against your walls harder just to hear you sob louder.

various fluids pool on the leather underneath you. nicholas lets his spit and your precum drip down his chin. every time he switches between sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his chin drags deliciously through your folds.

"don't stop." you try to say but the bundle of fabric in your mouth muffles your words. you raise your hips up into his mouth, desperate for more.

much to your displeasure, he pulls away, the knot in your stomach loosening in a hot puddle inside you. seeing you frustrated, he finally takes your underwear from between your teeth. "fuck you, nico."

"of course, pretty." are the last words you hear before he stretches you open with his cock, burying it deep inside you. he has your legs in his hands and he sheathes himself fully in you. "since you need me to fuck you so bad," he leans his weight onto you and presses your knees into the seat, folding you in half, "you're gonna get all of me. hope you're ready, slut."

large is an understatement. you can't see where he's entering you right now, your head rolling back and your eyes unfocused, but you feel utterly powerless under the pressure of his cock splitting you open. every time he pushes back into you, you feel your body jump and jolt from the sensation alone. his fingers press into the back of your knees, and under his vice grip you get the feeling you won't be able to move even if you wanted to. so you take it. you take every deep thrust and and brutal intrusion, your pussy screaming in both pleasure and pain. maybe you're screaming too, but you don't care anymore.

every time you feel his weight slam back into you, you feel the sensation wash over you, smothering you in exquisitely suffocating pleasure. every inch of you burns. the slight tingle from earlier having amplified into a impeccably searing pain stretching across you.

you dig your nails into the leather as you feel your mind leave you. all thoughts gone as the feeling of nicholas' cock brushing up against your walls takes over and leaves you speechless, yet your mouth agape and letting out a continuous string of curses, pleas, and a combination that sounds too good in nicholas' ears. you cum screaming bloody murder, nicholas' name tasting heavenly coming from your lips. something snaps inside you. gone is your agency you prided yourself on. all you know now is how nicholas keeps burying his cock deep inside you.

"perfect little cunt swallowing me whole." seeing you unravel under him brings him to his limit quicker than he had expected, your sweaty, flushed, body under him prettier than he had ever imagined. all those nights spent thinking of your mouth or cunt around his cock as he desperately fucks into his hand pales in comparison to the real thing. every time your boobs bounce with his thrusts, or every time you feverishly moan his name aloud forces his timer to tick down faster, his composure thinning.

drops of sweat travel down his temples, gathering at his chin before dropping onto your stomach. everything else is a blur and you're the only thing that remains clear and crisp in his vision. his princess. his slut. everything he needs. your endlessly pretty form under him taking his cock so well, welcoming every thrust with each flutter of your tight, clenched walls.

"gonna fill you up," his hips stutter, "can't hold it anymore. you're too fucking tight, pretty." after pounding you one last time, he releases inside you. his warm load filling you up until you feel full, too full, like you can't handle taking all of him. that doesn't bother nicholas, though, he makes sure not a single drop leaves your quivering hole. scooping it all back up inside you with his cock, ignoring how each swipe, stroke, and nudge sends his body into overdrive as well.

that's when his phone rings. he plans to ignore it completely but one glance at the contact name has him thinking. he reaches over to grab his phone in the front seat and clicks on answer.

you're still trying to catch your breath and your ability to think when, out of nowhere you hear a voice.

"dude where are you?" a man's voice comes from the phone in nicholas' hand.

"umm, parking lot behind the college." nicholas answers breathlessly, yet a small smirk forms on his tired expression.

"wh- the college? why the fuck are you-," the man cuts himself off, "-why do you look like that?"

"well, yuma," nicholas starts again, using his other hand to drag his still-swollen tip through your cum soaked folds, "that shit you gave me worked real well." he flips the camera and points it down at your wrecked cunt. "here's a thank you."

"wh- oh fuck, nico." the man on the other end, presumably yuma, clears his throat before chuckling slowly. "you're fucking insane."

> end of file reached. see you again soon!

tag list: @1009high, @luneilyyyy

Great.

You freeze, heat flaring behind your ears. Your hands go useless for a second, hovering above the mess as if you can will it back into order.

A hand appears in your periphery—long fingers, clean nails, a silver ring catching the light. He crouches without hesitation, gathering your books with a quick, practiced rhythm, as if helping is something he does the way other people breathe.

“Here,” he says, voice soft enough that it doesn’t disturb the quiet. “This one’s yours too, right?”

He holds up a notebook—yours, yes, with the corner bent and your name scrawled on the first page. When you look up, your mouth opens on a thank you that gets snagged on your own surprise.

Because Euijoo is—beautiful, yes, but not in a distant way. More like… deliberate. Like someone who’s learned how to exist in his own skin and decided to be gentle with the world anyway. He wears a plain hoodie and a scarf that’s too thin for the weather, and his hair is damp at the ends as if he ran here through drizzle. His eyes are dark and awake and kind.

“You dropped your whole semester,” he whispers with a faint smile.

You swallow a laugh, relief loosening the tightness in your chest. “I’m trying to make an impression.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Your fingers brush when you take the notebook. Electricity is such a cliché, but you feel something—small and quick and bright—skitter through your bones like a match struck in the dark.

He stacks the last book in your arms with careful precision. “Do you want help carrying these?”

You should say no. You’re an adult! You can manage a few books. But his hands are already reaching, his posture already angled toward your burden like he’s decided you’re something worth making lighter.

“Sure,” you whisper, and then, because the quiet makes honesty feel dangerous, you add, “If you don’t mind.”

He takes half the stack and nods toward the study tables. “I don’t.”

That’s it. That’s the beginning. Not fireworks. Not a dramatic confession under moonlight. Just a Tuesday that thinks it’s a Monday, and Euijoo deciding—wordlessly, instinctively—that you matter.

…

You become a pattern in each other’s lives the way the seasons become a pattern: slowly, then all at once.

At first it’s small. Study sessions that start as coincidence and turn into agreement. Coffee runs where he remembers—somehow—that you like two sugars and no lid because you hate the taste of plastic. Messages about deadlines, jokes about professors, photos of lecture slides taken at an angle because you’re late and he’s already in the room.

You learn him in pieces.

Euijoo taps his pen against his teeth when he’s thinking. He looks up when he’s nervous, like he’s checking the ceiling for permission. He laughs with his whole body—shoulders, eyes, hands—like laughter is a thing that has to be let out or it will split him open.

And he’s good. Not performative-good, not the kind of kindness that expects applause. Just—good in the way some people are good the way some nights are clear. He holds doors, yes, but he also notices when you’re quiet for too long. He walks you home when the campus gets emptier and the streetlights flicker, and he never makes it feel like a favor. He just… does it. Like it would be stranger not to.

One evening in late October, you’re sitting on the grass outside the student union, sharing fries that taste like salt and oil and comfort. The air smells like fallen leaves and distant smoke from someone’s cigarette. Euijoo has his knees pulled up, arms folded over them, scarf looped too loose.

You’re telling him about your family—some half-complaint, half-confession—and your voice does that thing it does when you’re trying not to be vulnerable.

He listens without interrupting. When you finish, you stare at the fries so you don’t have to stare at him.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

You glance up.

His eyes are steady, almost solemn. “You don’t have to earn love.”

The words hit you like a hand on your chest—not pushing, but anchoring.

You blink. “I—”

“You don’t,” he repeats. And then, softer, like he’s telling himself as much as you, “You’re already… you.”

You swallow. Something inside you shifts, like the world has tilted a degree in a direction you didn’t know existed.

For a second, you think you might cry. Instead, you steal a fry and point it at him like a weapon. “Are you always this serious?”

He breaks, smiling, tension falling away. “Only when it matters.”

“Does this matter?” you ask, waving the fry.

He watches you, eyes warm and bright. “Yes,” he says, and then he leans forward and bites the end of the fry you’re holding.

Your fingers freeze.

His lips brush your knuckles.

It lasts half a second. It feels like a lifetime.

You stare at him, caught somewhere between laughter and panic, and Euijoo’s gaze flickers—down, then up—like he knows exactly what he just did.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t look sorry. He looks… struck. Like he’s just realized something about himself and he doesn’t know where to put it.

You manage, very calmly, “It’s just a fry.”

He nods, eyes dropping again, voice rougher. “Yeah. Just a fry.”

But you both know it wasn’t.

…

The first time he kisses you is not planned, and that’s what makes it feel inevitable.

It happens in December, when the cold becomes a personality trait and the sky goes dark at four in the afternoon. Finals week has turned everyone into ghosts with caffeine breath. You’re exhausted in a way that feels like your bones are full of sand.

Euijoo finds you in an empty hallway outside a lecture room you’re not even supposed to be in, sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, your notes spread around you like you exploded.

He crouches beside you. “Hey.”

You lift your head. Your eyes burn. “I’m failing.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately, like he’s correcting an insult.

“I don’t understand anything,” you whisper, and the worst part is how true it feels in the moment. Like your brain is a locked door and you’ve lost the key.

Euijoo’s hand hovers near your shoulder, then settles there gently. His thumb moves once, a small stroke through your sweater. “Look at me,” he says.

You do.

He holds your gaze, steady as a heartbeat. “You’re tired,” he says. “Not stupid.”

Something in your throat tightens. “I can’t—”

“Breathe,” he tells you. “Just breathe with me.”

You inhale. He inhales. You exhale. He exhales. His eyes never leave yours, as if he’s physically keeping you from falling apart.

The hallway is silent, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above you, the distant sound of someone laughing far away like another world.

You don’t know who moves first. You only know that Euijoo’s face is suddenly closer, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your cheek, his palm warm against your cold skin. His eyes flick down to your mouth and back up, a question he doesn’t ask out loud.

You nod, barely.

He kisses you like he’s been carrying it for months. Like he’s been holding his breath and finally decided he’s allowed to exhale.

It’s not desperate. It’s not messy. It’s—precise, careful, reverent. He pulls back after a second, forehead almost touching yours, and you see it: the stunned softness in his eyes, the way his pupils look blown wide, as if he can’t believe this is real.

“Okay?” he whispers.

You laugh, shaky. “Yeah.”

He swallows. “I… I wanted to do that for a long time.”

Your heart kicks hard. “Why didn’t you?”

His gaze drops, and for the first time you see him looking unsure—Euijoo, who always seems so quietly certain.

“Because,” he says, voice low, “I didn’t want to be the kind of person who takes something you weren’t ready to give.”

You stare at him.

His eyes flick up again, earnest enough to hurt. “I don’t want to ruin you. Or—well, us.”

You lift a hand and press your fingers to his scarf, anchoring him the way he anchored you. “You didn’t.”

Something shifts in his expression—relief, tenderness, a bloom of something older than a crush.

He kisses you again, slower, and you swear you feel it all the way down to your ribs.

…

After that, you become each other’s home in the middle of everything that keeps changing.

You learn the shape of Euijoo’s affection: the way he tucks you into his side when you’re waiting for the bus, palm splayed on your shoulder like a claim that isn’t possessive, just protective. The way he watches you when you talk, like he’s memorizing the movement of your mouth, the curve of your smiles, the moments your eyes light up. The way he says your name like it’s a secret and a prayer.

Sometimes you catch him staring.

Not in a creepy way. In a wrecked way.

Like he’s looking at you and remembering that you exist, and it hurts him because it’s so beautiful it’s almost unbearable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask once, half teasing, half self-conscious. You’re sitting in his tiny dorm room, legs tangled on his bed, a cheap movie playing on his laptop. The air smells like laundry detergent and instant noodles.

He blinks, as if returning from somewhere far away. “Like what?”

“Like I’m—” You wave a hand, searching. “Like I’m the answer to a question you didn’t know you asked.”

His mouth twitches, but his eyes don’t soften into humor. They stay serious, almost raw.

“You are,” he says simply.

You laugh, because you don’t know what else to do when someone says something that honest. “Euijoo.”

He reaches out and takes your hand, threading your fingers together. His grip is firm—not painful, but solid, like a promise.

“I mean it,” he says, voice quiet over the movie’s dialogue. “Sometimes I look at you and I think… how is this real?”

Your chest tightens. “It’s real.”

He nods, but his gaze flickers, betraying something inside him that doesn’t fully believe he gets to keep good things.

You squeeze his hand. “Hey.”

He looks at you.

“Don’t make yourself suffer over something you haven’t lost,” you whisper.

For a moment, his eyes shine like he might cry. Then he lifts your hand and presses his mouth to your knuckles—gentle, devotional.

“Okay,” he breathes. “I’ll try.”

But you learn, over the months, that Euijoo’s love is not a simple thing.

It’s not light. It’s not casual.

It’s deep and old, like it was waiting in him long before he knew what to call it.

…

By spring, everyone knows you’re together.

Not because you make a show of it, but because Euijoo looks different when you’re near. Softer. Brighter. Like his body relaxes into a shape it prefers.

He walks you to class and carries your bag when you’re tired. He buys you ridiculous little things—a keychain shaped like your favorite animal, a cheap bouquet from the corner store because it “looked like you.” He leaves notes in your textbooks when you’re not looking: Eat. Sleep. Don’t die. I love you.

The first time he says it out loud is in April, on a night the wind is warm enough to feel like a hand.

You’re sitting on the roof of a campus building you’re probably not supposed to be on, legs dangling over the edge, the city sprawled below like a sea of lights. Euijoo has brought two cans of soda and a blanket that smells like him.

You’re talking about nothing—summer plans, internships, how adulthood feels like standing at the edge of a cliff and pretending you’re not scared.

Euijoo goes quiet. When you look at him, he’s staring at his hands, fingers worrying the tab of the soda can.

“What?” you ask gently.

He exhales, and the sound trembles. “I’m thinking,” he says.

“About what?”

He turns his head and looks at you.

And the expression on his face makes your breath catch—like he’s standing in front of something sacred. Like he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing and breaking it.

“I love you,” he says.

The words aren’t dramatic. They’re not shouted into the wind. They’re said like a fact. Like a confession. Like something he has carried for so long it has become part of his spine.

You stare at him, stunned for a second. And then warmth floods your chest so fast you almost choke on it.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Euijoo’s eyes squeeze shut for a heartbeat, as if he’s absorbing it physically. When he opens them, they’re wet.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft. “Why are you crying?”

He laughs, but it’s broken. “Because—” He swallows hard. “Because I didn’t think I would get this.”

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms. He clings like he’s been starving. His hold is careful but fierce, hands spread over your back, his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

And you feel it: the way his body shakes, the way his breathing stutters, like his heart is trying to learn a new rhythm.

It hits you then, quietly, like a truth settling into place.

Euijoo loves like he’s afraid.

Not of you. Not of love.

Of losing it.

…

Time moves the way it always does—relentless and tender. You survive finals. You survive summers that stretch like taffy and winters that make your cheeks sting. You move from dorm rooms to tiny apartments, from instant ramen to grocery lists and shared chores, from “I miss you” texts between classes to “What do you want for dinner?” shouted from the kitchen.

You grow up together in all the unglamorous ways that matter.

And somewhere along the line, Euijoo changes.

Not in the sense that he becomes a different person—he doesn’t lose his gentleness, his quiet humor, his habit of tapping his pen against his teeth. But something in him settles. Deepens. Hardens into certainty.

You see it in the way he stands behind you when you’re cooking, arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder. In the way he looks at you at parties, across crowded rooms, eyes finding yours like a compass needle snapping north. In the way he reaches for your hand in public without thinking, like your fingers belong there.

At first, his love feels like a bright, frantic thing—like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t hold you, you’ll disappear.

Then, gradually, it becomes something else.

Something older.

Something that doesn’t just want you.

Something that wants a life.

…

It happens on an ordinary day, which is how you know it’s real.

You’re in a grocery store aisle arguing about cereal, because you’ve reached that stage of intimacy where your biggest conflicts are about sugar content and brand loyalty. Euijoo has a box of something aggressively healthy in his hand, and you’re holding a bright, childish, chocolate-covered option like it’s the only joy left in the world.

“You can’t eat that every day,” he says, trying to sound stern.

“You eat instant noodles like it’s a personality,” you shoot back.

He huffs, amused. “That’s different.”

“It’s literally not.”

He looks at you, eyes narrowing, and you prepare for him to make some ridiculous comeback.

Instead, his gaze shifts—past you, down the aisle.

You follow it and see, near the endcap, a young couple with a toddler. The child is in a puffy jacket too big for her, hair sticking up in staticy wisps, cheeks flushed. She’s holding her parent’s finger with both hands, babbling happily while the adults laugh and try to wrangle her toward the cart.

It’s nothing special. Just life.

But Euijoo goes still.

Not stiff. Not tense. Just… quiet, as if something inside him has stopped moving long enough to listen.

You glance at him. “Euijoo?”

He doesn’t answer at first. His eyes are fixed on the child’s tiny hands, the way she leans into the safety of her parents like she has never doubted she’ll be caught.

When he finally looks at you, it’s like he’s seeing you in a new light.

His pupils are wide. His mouth is slightly open, like he’s been punched with the thought.

“What?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

He swallows. His throat moves hard. “I—” He stops, as if he doesn’t know how to say what’s in him without breaking it.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “What is it?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, then to your hands, then back to your eyes, like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“I don’t think,” he says slowly, “I love you like a boy loves someone anymore.”

Your breath catches.

He keeps going, voice raw, as if once he starts he can’t stop. “I think… I love you like—” He presses a hand to his chest, fingers splaying over his heart. “Like something in me is old.”

You blink, stunned. The grocery store hums around you: carts squeaking, a kid whining somewhere, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

Euijoo’s eyes shine. “Sometimes I look at you and it feels like my bones crack if I don’t hold you,” he whispers, and there’s a faint, trembling laugh in the words, like he knows it sounds insane but it’s true anyway. “And it scares me, because it’s not just… wanting you. It’s not just missing you.”

He leans closer, voice dropping to a confession meant only for you. “It’s like my soul knows you. Like it’s been waiting.”

Your hands tighten around the cereal box.

Euijoo reaches out and covers your fingers with his, warm and steady. “I keep thinking about… years,” he says. “Not just weekends. Not just next semester. Years. Like—”

He swallows again, and this time his voice breaks slightly. “Like I want to marry you.”

The words land in you like a bell struck deep.

Euijoo’s eyes fill. He looks almost anguished, like saying it hurts, like wanting you this much is something he both craves and fears.

“I want to call you my wife,” he whispers, and his expression twists, love and terror braided together. “I want… kids. I want to watch you hold our baby like it’s the only thing in the universe. I want to watch us get old and complain about our backs and still reach for each other in our sleep. I want to sit at a table with you and our grandchildren and think—we did it.”

Your throat tightens until you can barely breathe.

Euijoo’s voice drops even softer, almost a plea. “And it makes me feel like I’m breaking, because if I want it that much—if I let myself want it—then losing it would kill me.”

He looks at you like you’re the sun and he’s been orbiting you without admitting it. Like he’s terrified you’ll say no and confirm his worst fear: that good things aren’t meant to stay.

You set the cereal down carefully on the shelf, hands shaking just a little.

Then you step into him.

Euijoo inhales sharply when your arms wrap around his waist. For a second he’s frozen, as if he can’t believe you’re doing it, and then he folds around you—tight, fierce, protective. His hold is the kind of hold that says mine without ownership, home without walls.

You bury your face in his shoulder. “Euijoo,” you whisper, voice thick.

He presses his cheek to your hair. His breathing is uneven. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut in, pulling back just enough to look at him.

His eyes are wet. He looks wrecked.

You cup his face with both hands. “Look at me.”

He does, trembling.

“I want that,” you say.

He stares. “What?”

“You,” you whisper. “All of it. The years. The old love. The terrifying love. The stupid grocery store fights. The kids, if we decide. The getting old. The being yours.”

Euijoo’s breath leaves him like he’s been shot.

“You mean it?” he asks, voice cracked.

You smile through the ache in your chest. “I’ve meant it.”

His face crumples with something so intensely relieved it hurts to witness. He closes his eyes, forehead dropping to yours, and a sound escapes him—half laugh, half sob.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he whispers, words desperate with sincerity. “I’m going to love you so well. I’m going to—”

“You already do,” you murmur.

He shakes his head, as if he can’t accept that it’s enough. “No,” he says. “More. I will—more.”

And then, right there between the cereal and the pasta sauce, Euijoo kisses you like a man who has found the thing he intends to keep for the rest of his life.

Not reckless. Not showy.

Burning.

Deep.

Old.

Like he’s making a vow with his mouth.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining so brightly it feels like staring into a flame.

He looks at you the way people look at miracles.

And you realize something too, in the quiet after his confession:

Euijoo doesn’t love you like a story.

He loves you like a future.

…

Later, when you’re home and the groceries are half-put away and you’re both still dazed from what happened in aisle seven, he comes up behind you in the kitchen.

You’re rinsing apples at the sink. The window above it is dark, reflecting your own faces back at you: you in a soft sweatshirt, hair messy, Euijoo behind you like a shadow made of devotion.

He wraps his arms around your waist.

His chin settles on your shoulder.

You feel him breathe in, slow and deep, like he’s inhaling you into his lungs.

“You’re real,” he murmurs.

You turn your head slightly. “I’m real.”

His grip tightens, just a little. The kind of tightness that says he’s trying to fuse you into him.

You cover his hands with yours. “Hey,” you whisper. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

He exhales, shaky. “I’m not afraid of you,” he says.

“I know.”

He nuzzles your shoulder, voice low. “I’m afraid of how much I want this. Because it’s… huge.”

You turn around in his arms and face him fully. His eyes are soft but haunted, like the depth of his love sometimes scares even him.

You reach up and smooth your thumb under his eye, catching the smallest hint of moisture. “Then we’ll hold it together,” you say. “We don’t have to carry it alone.”

Euijoo stares at you like you’ve just handed him the missing piece of himself.

Then he smiles—small, trembling, utterly ruined.

“Wife,” he whispers experimentally, like he’s tasting it.

Your heart stutters.

You laugh, breathless. “Not yet.”

He nods, serious as a vow. “Someday.”

You lean into him, forehead against his, and for a moment the whole world narrows to the space between your breaths.

Euijoo’s arms tighten around you, and you understand what he meant about bones and cracking and needing.

His love is not gentle because it is weak.

It’s gentle because it is powerful enough to be careful.

“Someday,” you agree softly.

Euijoo closes his eyes, and his soul—no longer crying, no longer breaking—sounds like it’s finally found a place to rest.

And when he kisses you again, it’s not like a boy.

It’s like a man who has already chosen you for every version of the future.

Every season.

Every lifetime.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @teddywonss @taerae-verse @bbangbies @voucearse @ruuroom @wensurr @sunoo-mint-choco @leehanaholic @delirioastral @todorokiskitten

They were opposites in every way but yet they fit perfectly. The famous basketball captain loved the girl who chose silence over everything. And thats exactly why they worked. When the world was rude to them for different reasons they comforted eachother being eachother's home.

And it wasn't a secret that almost every girl in the university felt an undeniable feel of jealousy towards y/n.

Because out of every girl who tried little too hard to catch his attention Nicholas chose her and they watched the way he looked at y/n - soft, unguarded - it made the jealousy burn even brighter.

Y/n kicked off her shoes as soon as she stepped into their shared apartment. Her bag thumped onto the floor and her eyes were already scanning, searching for him.

"Nicho babyy" she called out, excitement bubbling through her tiredness. She found him in the bedroom sprawled lazily on the bed, scrolling on his phone. And without thinking,she launched herself onto the mattress landing on top of him.

Nicholas chuckled, setting the phone aside, his hands automatically finding her hair. He ruffled it gently, leaning into the hug.

“You’re late,” he said with a teasing grin, voice soft. “I was starting to think the studio had claimed you for good.”

Y/n laughed, resting her head against his chest. “You have no idea how much I missed you,” she murmured.

Nicholas kissed the top of her head, the warmth in his eyes melting every ounce of exhaustion from her body. “I missed you more,” he whispered. “Come here… let’s just stay like this for a while.”

After a few minutes of tangled limbs and soft laughter, Y/n pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

“So tell me about today?” she asked, her tone warm, curious.

Nicholas’s eyes lit up, and suddenly words started tumbling out, fast and excited. He yapped about his team’s practice, the plays they nailed, even the funny moments of the team. His hands gestured wildly, his energy filling the small bedroom.

Y/n listened, smiling, resting her chin on his shoulder as he spoke. Her eyes sparkled with pride, soft and unwavering. When he finally paused for a breath, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Aw,” she said warmly, wrapping her arms around him again. “I’m so proud of you.”

Nicholas froze for just a moment, a grin tugging at his lips. “You really mean that?” he asked, voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Of course,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “You’re amazing, and I get to be the lucky one who gets to see it every day.”

He pulled her closer, holding her like she was the safest place in the world.

୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧

The next day, Y/n slipped into the dance studio, planning to practice until Nicholas’s training ended so they could head home together. The sunlight spilling across the polished floor as music echoed softly around her. She lost herself in the rhythm, time blurring with each movement.

Nearly an hour passed before the studio door creaked open. Two girls stepped inside - and froze the second they saw her. Clearly, they hadn’t expected anyone to be there.

Y/n stopped mid-step, catching their expressions, slightly startled herself.

“Oh,” she said simply.

Right on cue, one of the girls smirked and walked toward Y/n, her steps slow and deliberate, while the other turned and switched off the speaker. The sudden silence felt loud. She then joined her friend, arms crossed, eyes sharp with amusement.

“Woah,” the first girl said, her tone dripping with mock surprise. “Looks like we’ve got the attention seeker here.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n asked, her brows knitting together, genuine surprise slipping into her voice.

The second girl scoffed, stepping forward. “Dude, don’t act surprised. We all know you’re literally an attention seeker.”

Y/n blinked, her hands slowly dropping to her sides. “What do you mean?”

The first girl let out a short laugh, mockingly repeating her words. “What do you mean?”

Then her tone shifted - sweet on the surface, sharp underneath. “Alright, drop it. We want you to do something, Y/nnn~,” she drawled, stepping closer and casually running her fingers through Y/n's hair.

Y/n stiffened instantly. “W–what?”

The girl leaned in, her smirk widening.

“Break up with Nicholas.”

Y/n froze, shocked that they had balls to ask that directly.

“What, did we ask something weird?” the second girl said with a shrug. “Um, I don’t think so.”

Y/n swallowed, her voice coming out timid but firm. “That’s not your decision to make.”

The first girl’s expression darkened, her glare sharp. “We care about him, Y/n. Unlike you.”

Y/n scoffed despite herself. “Oh? Do you?”

“Owww,” the second girl cooed mockingly. “This might hurt, baby, but don’t you think you’re holding him back?”

“What- no-" Y/n started, shaken.

“Think about it.”

“He doesn’t even go to parties anymore,” the first girl continued, her voice rising with every word. “Do you know how many connections he used to make there? Now he just leaves.”

“Right after practice,” the second girl added, nodding. “Every single time. No hanging around. Just straight home to you.”

Y/n’s throat tightened.

“That's so normal,” Y/n interrupted, shaking her head. “Plenty of people do that.”

“Oh, yeah?” the girl cut in immediately, her smirk returning. “Then rejecting a summer training camp with pro-league scouts watching is normal too?”

Y/n froze.

“A fully funded camp,” the second girl added casually. “Exposure. Connections. Real chances to get noticed.”

"He rejected it. Just to stay here. Just to stay with you.”

The second girl softened her tone again, like she was doing Y/n a favor. “See the pattern?” she asked gently. “His world is getting smaller. Not because he wants it to - but because he’s choosing you.”

“And that’s sweet,” the first girl finished coldly. “But it’s also selfish of you to let him.”

The first girl’s smirk sharpened as she leaned in a little closer. “You’re holding him back, Y/n. Just admit it. There’s nothing between you two that really matches. Maybe you’re pretty, but that’s it. Yeah.”

“Shut up,” Y/n snapped, stepping back, her voice firmer than she felt.

“Well, it’s your call,” the girl said, shrugging. “I said what I said. Bye, love.”

The two girls turned and left, their heels clicking against the polished floor.

Y/n exhaled slowly, letting the silence settle around her. She didn’t let their words sink in. She wouldn’t.

Because she knew the truth. And the truth was Nicholas wasn’t being held back. She was his choice.

୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧

Y/n dragged herself out of the studio, the sting of the girls’ words still buzzing in her mind. She didn’t have the appetite to practice anymore, and with nothing else to do, she found herself wandering toward the gym - toward the basketball court. Honestly, she’d never been here before.

The sound of bouncing balls, and the shouts of players warmed the space with energy she wasn’t used to, but a part of her was curious.

As she stepped inside, Jo, one of the team members, nudged Nicholas. His head snapped up, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Y/n’s heart gave a small skip. Nicholas was shocked - but then his gaze softened, a smile tugging at his lips.

And with a tiny, subtle motion, she signaled to him that she’d stay on the benches.

Nicholas’s smile deepened, and he nodded once.

And with that, Y/n settled onto the benches, watching his world unfold for the very first time.

But as she watched Nicholas move across the court, completely in his element, that genuine, effortless smile lighting up his face, Y/n couldn’t help but feel the echo of the girls’ words.

Was I really holding him back?

Did he really reject that offer? Her eyes tracked him as he laughed with a teammate.

But why didn’t he tell me?

Was it because he thought I’d feel guilty for holding him back?

These thoughts swirled in her mind like a storm, gnawing at the edges of the happiness she felt just being here, just watching him.

As practice ended, the court emptied, and Nicholas suddenly came running toward her, breaking through the fog of her thoughts.

“Baby! Baby! Did I do good?” he called out, breathless and excited, eyes sparkling.

Y/n’s chest swelled with a warm, unspoken affection - so strong that words almost failed her. She reached up, cupping his face gently in her hands.

“You were the best out there,” she said softly, her voice full of sincerity and pride.

Nicholas’s grin widened, that playful sparkle in his eyes meeting the depth of her gaze. “You really think so?” he asked, leaning into her touch, utterly happy just to hear it from her.

୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧

As they walked home, Nicholas noticed a quiet tension in Y/n, a softness around her eyes that told him her mind was elsewhere. He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Once inside their apartment, he guided her to the couch, sitting beside her with careful patience. His hand lingered over hers, thumb brushing lightly.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting his head to meet her gaze. “You’ve been thinking about something all the way here. Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Y/n hesitated, the weight of her swirling thoughts pressing against her chest, but his steady, warm presence made it a little easier to start.

Y/n’s hands trembled slightly as she sank into the couch, voice tight. “Did you reject the training camp offer?”

Nicholas froze, the question hitting him harder than he expected. He opened his mouth, then closed it, guilt flaring in his chest. “I… I did,” he admitted finally, voice low. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to stay with you. That’s why I hid it.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted. “But you could’ve told me,” she whispered, her voice fragile. “You didn’t have to keep it from me.”

He looked down, ashamed, his jaw tight. “I know. I know I should’ve.” His eyes flicked up, a sharp edge creeping into his tone. “Honestly part of me thought you would feel guilty. And I couldn’t handle that. I just wanted to be with you, even if it meant missing out.”

Y/n’s chest ached. Her mind spiraled, subtle guilt curling around her thoughts like smoke. Is it my fault? Am I really holding him back? She swallowed hard, voice barely audible. “II didn’t mean to. I never wanted to…”

Nicholas reached out instinctively, then hesitated, his hand hovering near hers. The guilt in his eyes mirrored hers. “Y/n I wanted to stay with you. That’s all that mattered. But maybe I shouldn’t have kept it from you like that.”

The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating. Y/n's thoughts raced, turning inward. I’m the reason he missed it. I made him stay. I’m selfish-

Finally, she shook her head, her voice cracking. “ I need some time,” she whispered, pulling her phone from her bag, to call her classmate.

Nicholas’s lips pressed into a thin line, guilt tightening in his chest. He nodded slowly, words failing him as she dialed. And as she left, the apartment felt impossibly quiet, their unspoken regrets lingering like shadows in every corner.

୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧

Nicholas’s hands shook as he dialed. He couldn’t stop the tightness in his throat, the pressure in his chest. When Jo answered, he barely managed a whisper.

“Jo- can you- can you come over? Please.”

A moment later, Aiki’s calm voice joined through the speaker. “We’ll both be there.”

Within minutes, both of them arrived, and Nicholas opened the door, eyes red, his composure shattered.

“What happened?” Jo asked gently, meeting his gaze. Nicholas’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“Y/n- she left. she’s upset. I didn’t- I didn’t tell her about the camp, and she thinks I’m being held back- I just-" His words stumbled over themselves, tears threatening to fall.

Jo’s brow furrowed. “Then why didn’t you tell her when I asked you to?”

Nicholas swallowed hard, eyes brimming. “I wanted to stay with her. I thought it would hurt her, knowing I rejected it because of her. I wanted to be with her. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

Aiki’s hand rested lightly on his arm, her voice gentle. “And that’s what you thought was the right thing?”

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “ I can’t lose her Aiki. I just I can’t.”

“But why did she go to her friend's place?” Aiki asked quietly.

Nicholas buried his face in his hands. “She said she needed some space.”

Aiki’s eyes softened, reminding him gently. “Nicholas do you remember when I decided to take some space? You know how I felt and jo did right, did you really want to let her go?”

He shook his head, barely able to speak. “No... never.”

Jo leaned forward, firm and encouraging. “Then don’t let her go now. Go after her, apologize, tell her anything you need to - but don’t let her leave without knowing how much she means to you.”

୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧

Nicholas arrived at the friend's place, heart hammering, but he didn’t let himself break. When Y/n opened the door, he could see her hesitation, the quiet storm behind her eyes. He stepped inside, careful but determined.

“Y/n… I need to talk to you,” he said softly. His eyes were red - just faintly, the evidence of the tension and worry - but he didn’t let a single tear fall.

Nicholas’s gaze never left hers, steady and intense. He took a slow step closer, closing the space between them, his hands brushing lightly against hers.

“I know I messed up,” he admitted, voice low but unwavering. “I should have told you about the camp. I should have- I don’t know, let you know sooner. But everything I did because I wanted to be with you.”

Y/n’s chest tightened, the guilt and hurt from earlier still lingering. “But maybe I am holding you back,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I don’t want to stop you from- everything... from going far, being successful.”

Nicholas shook his head gently, cupping her face with both hands. “If you think you’re really holding me back and I get to experience your love while it does then please, baby… hold me back.”

Y/n blinked, the words hitting her like warmth through the storm of her thoughts. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she murmured into his chest.

“No, baby,” Nicholas whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’m the one who’s sorry for making you feel like this. Please don’t leave me.”

Her hands gripped his back, holding him as if letting go could undo everything, and he held her just as close, steady and unwavering.

And in that instant, they both realized the truth: no matter how much jealousy, how many obstacles, how many people tried to come between them... they wouldn’t leave each other. Not now, not ever.

this is so short im so sorry

thank you for requesting this it really meant alot and i hope you enjoyed 🎀

His lips had an upward turn to them, arms crossed over his chest. You did it again, pressing your lips to the space between his brows to elicit the same reaction—he just looked so damn cute. 

Yixiang has been lying in your lap as you watched a cartoon, adamant to spend his free time with you. And, after a while of scrolling through his phone his eyes had fluttered shut, soft sighs audible through his sleepy state. 

Of course, you froze, purposefully not even moving a neuron so he could dream peacefully. Afterall, He’d been working so hard, you figured that this was best for him, even if your legs fell off from the lack of circulation causing pins and needles. 

You‘d been glancing down occasionally, distracted by the slight pout on his lips. You admired the fullness and length of his lashes, slightly envious that you had to use fake ones to get near that amount of volume. 

And then, you laughed—he just looked so…fake in your lap. 

The vibrations had made him stir, face turning towards your stomach, hiding from the overcast light. He wrapped a loose arm around your waist, the other still sat over his mid-section. Yixiang was so close to you, you could almost feel his heart beating. 

“I like feeling your heartbeat,” You remarked, only realizing that it was supposed to be in your head when he answered. 

He pulled himself closer, voice muffled by your shirt, “Are you a psycho?” 

“You’re awake?” You almost gasped out, “I mean—wait.” He laughed, turning his head to the ceiling again but not opening his eyes. “No, I’m not a psycho…” 

“You just say creepy things for fun?” 

“No,” You huffed, “I just like you…a lot.” 

He hummed, “Well, I love you today. I’ll love you tomorrow and,” You didn’t know if it was because he was half asleep that he was confessing his deep-rooted love for you but, even shocked, you let him go on. “Forever? That’s not long enough.” 

A dorky-smile spread across your face (though he couldn’t see it), practically all your teeth on display. Then, you were kissing his face. 

His eyes shot open for a moment as you pressed your feather-light lips to his skin again and again in different places, then he closed them again. 

Once he’d had enough (well, he actually hadn’t) Yixiang stopped you, a gentle hand holding you mere centimeters from his face by your cheeks. 

“Hey, psycho,” He practically whispered, “My lips are right here.” 

And, he made you find them quickly after, shushing whatever snarky remark was hanging on your tongue. You smiled into the kiss, disregarding his new nickname for you and relishing in the moment. 

He was right, forever wasn’t long enough. 

FUMA

would rarely ever initiate physical touch, but he loves it when you do and never rejects it.

you go for a hug before he leaves for work and he wraps his big arms around you in a bone-crushing hug that makes you want to never pull away and stays on your mind all day.

your hands are cold? he'll hold them till they're warm (lowkey doesn't wanna let go even after they're warmed up, but also doesn't want to come off as clingy so he reluctantly lets go). you feel tired? his shoulder is yours to rest your head on. you want attention when he's playing games? his lap is free for you to come and sit on anytime (plays with your hair or gives back rubs when you're feeling tired).

doesn't mind when you sleep with your head on his chest and wouldn't complain when you keep it that way all night, even if it makes his body sore the next day.

big baby who sulks when you're not being as touchy and follows you around asking questions like, "are you upset?" and "i'm sorry if i did something to make you mad, i promise i'll fix it."

and then you just can't take it anymore so you jump in his arms and smother him with kisses all over his face cause he's the most adorable boyfriend ever.

NICHOLAS

such a tease about it.

like you two would get into a silly argument over something stupid, and then when you go to him for cuddles, he's all like, "can't go a single day without my cuddles, can you sweetheart?" but wraps his arm around you anyways, pulling you closer.

always has his arm around your shoulder or on your lower back, guiding you through crowds or in social gatherings just so that everyone knows that you're the love of his life. it isn't much, but it makes your heart flutter even though he's done it countless times. it's just the effect he has on you.

tries to act nonchalant when he's doing something random and you just come cuddle him or snuggle against him, but inside he's all giddy.

"you know, you're pretty cute when you're all cuddly like this," he says with a smirk, trying to act like his heart isn't beating hard and fast. but you see him go red when you tilt your head to face him and say, "and you're pretty cute when you're not being a tease."

loves loves loves kisses. wants to start his day with one, and if he doesn't get it, turns into a grump until he gets a thousand kisses all over his face.

another one who loves it when you're touchy while the members are around, cause he gets to brag about it later like, "i'm literally dating the best person ever and you're not." (sometimes he has to hold back giggles cause, "aren't you just so adorable.")

EUIJOO

this boy is so clueless at the beginning of the relationship, its endearing. (but also kinda confusing)

when you first wrap your arms around him, he's just standing there awkwardly... he doesn't know what to do with his hands so they're just limp against his side... and his heart is beating so fast cause he adores you so much but doesn't know how to express it so he just ends up embarrassing himself (heart eyes from you but he doesn't notice)

you stop being as touchy, cause maybe he doesn't like it that much. but when he notices that you're distancing yourself he's just like :(( do you not love him anymore :(( are you upset about something :((

asks the members for advice and he gets laughed at (my baby), but probably ends up getting advice from the younger members (i feel like maki gives the best advice second to k)

and when he realises he's like oh!

after dating him for a while he becomes just as affectionate as you, cause if you like it and it makes you happy, he's gonna do it. for you.

also becomes a teeny tiny bit clingy as your relationship progresses, but when confronted about it, he'll strongly deny.

asks for kisses every minute. you ask him to open a jar or reach the top shelf, he'll do it if he gets a kiss in return. you want to know the date? okay, but you'll have to kiss him first.

sulks if he gets less than 10 hugs per day, and the only way to make up to him is hold him while he falls asleep and playing with his hair while placing soft kisses on his forehead. (you gladly do it)

YUMA

another tease. (but is actually more clingy than you)

whenever you hug him, you're immediately met with a smirk on his face and a teasing comment, but also doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you and crushing you between them. (also never pulls away first)

also did i mention how clingy he is? needs to have his arms around all the time, needs kisses whenever you're around him. at some point you get tired of his demands for affection, even though its your love language (no you don't)

would never admit but loves being babied so so much.

turns red when he complains and you coo at him, bonus giggles if you stroke his chin, that boy is down bad for you

needs you to stroke his hair whenever you're hanging around the house. will literally go crazy if you don't do it.

the first time you ran your hands through his hair, his eyes fluttered shut as he sighed at your touch and shit, he was in love.

not big on pda, but holds your hand under tables and in crowds, or just has his arm around your shoulders, tracing circles or playing with your hair.

oh and if you ever tease him back about how he's also a softie for you, no cuddles for you that day!

JO

doesn't hate it. doesn't love it.

would never, i mean never, initiate it. but he's all yours you can do whatever you want with him.

you wanna cuddle? his arms are always open. you wanna nomnomnom his cheeks? uhmm... sure.

your life-sized teddy bear. you can go and hug him, kiss him whenever you want, and he doesn't complain

very awkward at first, but as he gets comfortable around you, presses his cheek against your when you hug him, or nuzzles into your side.

gets all flustered when you hug him from behind, like you can feel him turn to putty in your arms.

if you ever miss any of your routine hugs or kisses, follows you around like a lost puppy all day because hey! you forgot his kiss, and he's sad now

doesn't say a word about it though, cause he's embarassed, but lightly tugs on your clothes to get your attention to the little pout on his face.

and when you just can't resist this pumpkin, you're all over him, smothering him with kisses and hugs and cuddles (and he's fighting for his life when you're doing all of this, cause he doesn't wanna burst into giggles)

HARUA

just like euijoo, also very awkward at first and makes you think does this guy even like me or what?

but in reality, he just adores you very much but doesn't wanna come off as clingy

even brushes (?) your touch off at times, even though he doesn't want but he's just not the best at reciprocating affection

but gets used to it very quick! now he wants a kiss every minute and is always hugging you

does not care if he gets teased by the members, he just wants love

lets you kiss his cheek all you want, cause have you looked at them? they're the softest, plumpest cheeks on the entire planet! (screams when you bite them, though)

asks for kisses every night, cause they help him rest better (rather than helping him sleep, they just leave his heart racing and his cheeks pink)

TAKI

he's also kind of touchy, but when you're affectionate, he turns into a stuttering, blushing mess!

but gets used to it pretty quick and soon he becomes demanding.

you refuse to kiss him cause you're eating? how dare you! you can't take away his kissing rights ˙◠˙

lets you bite him. you can bite his shoulder, his cheek or whatever; he doesn't even flinch.

rather, he bites back. harder.

cuddles with him are the best! cause he's so silly and makes you laugh till you're clutching your sides cause it hurts, but also so loving that the little pillow fights and tickles are followed by the best night's sleep.

kisses you all over your face and hands and neck when you're feeling down, till you're laughing and tell him to stop (he doesn't plan to, though)

the most needy boyfriend ever. always asking for hugs and if you say no (which you never do) he's gonna pull you in, wrap his arms around your waist to pick you up and spin you around till you're giggling.

treats you like his best friend and makes you the happiest person in the world, showers you with all the love and affection you want, because he wants to be the the best boyfriend ever (he already is)

MAKI

hand kisses. neck kisses. shoulder kisses. forehead kisses. nose kisses. sad kisses. happy kisses. angry kisses. sweet kisses. i love you kisses. i miss you kisses. hello kisses. goodbye kisses. rain kisses. beach kisses. sunset kisses. first kisses. hundredth kisses. playful kisses. hot kisses. cold kisses. kisses in the light. kisses in the dark. kisses. kisses. kisses. he just wants kisses.

you like physical touch? not more than him.

hugs. kisses. cuddles. hugs. kisses. cuddles. hugs. kisses. cuddles. that's all he wants his day to be. (all of them only from you, of course)

wraps his arms and legs around you to stop you from getting out of bed and away from him.

loves it when you kiss him to shut him up. as much as this boy loves yapping, he loves kisses more.

presses your cheeks together on cold days and holds your hand inside his pocket to keeps you warm

back hugs. all the time. you just have to face your back towards him, and then within the next few seconds, his arms are around your waist and his neck is chin is resting on your shoulder.

as much as he expresses his love for you by touch and affection, he also expresses the same amount through words. like saying 'i love you' in multiple languages all throughout the day, texting you about everything exciting that happened when you're away, or whenever he thinks of you, whispers sweet nothings to help you fall asleep.

Today is the day. Today is the day the artistic director will announce it, the names of those who auditioned for the roles.

And Y/n finally got the part she has always yearned for.

The role of Clara in The Nutcracker.

Everyone wanted to be Clara. Only the most skilled and talented people get those kinds of roles. And everyone was focused on getting that role. Why? Well of course because the role is an important one. All the attention will be on you if you were the one dancing as Clara.

So of course when the artistic director said Y/n’s name as the girl who plays Clara, everyone had mixed reactions;

“What? I worked so hard for that”

“I’m so happy for her” “yeah she deserves it” “I did see her late at night practicing, so yeah absolutely deserved”

“This has to be sabotaged”

Vanessa Smith, the former ‘favorite’ said as she glared at Y/n.

As Y/n was happily celebrating with her friends, she felt as if she was being watched. So as one has a feeling as such, she looked around, and she thought correct when her eyes laid on Vanessa’s glaring gaze.

Y/n sweetly smiled as Vanessa only to receive no response from her. Y/n’s face frowned upon seeing Vanessa be irresponsive.

“Don’t worry Y/n, she’s just jealous you got picked to be Clara.”

“Yeah I mean at the end, you’re the one dancing for the prince.”

One after another, Y/n’s friends chipped in with affirmations to try and cheer Y/n up. After a few more praises and cheers, Y/n finally cheered up and began getting ready to learn the first steps to Clara’s dance in The Nutcracker.

As the artistic director taught Y/n the first sixteen steps of Clara’s dance, she started remembering when she was a child, how she wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up.

Little Y/n was sitting on the floor, two barbie dolls in each of her hands. One had a ballerina tutu and the other had a beautiful pink gown.

She moved then as if to show that they are dancing, left to right, round and round. She hummed music for the as she moved them from side to side delicately. “Oh wow look at you making your barbies dance like ballerinas” Y/n’s mother smiled as she was preparing Y/n’s snack for the day.

“No mum, this one isn’t a ballerina” she lifted the one wearing a gown “she’s just swaying to the music this one is dancing to” she lift the barbie wearing a tutu. “Sweetheart, do you want to be a ballerina or a princess?” Y/n’s mother questioned as she approached her daughter.

“Can I be both?” Y/n asked. Her mother laughed and shook her head “No baby, you can only choose one” she folded her pinky, ring, middle fingers and thumb to form a number one, showing her daughter as she continued “If you were a princess, they won’t let you be a ballerina, cause they have all these crazy rules about being delicate and untouched blah blah blah. But if you were a ballerina, you’d be too busy to be a princess, you’ll have shows day and night, practice day and night. So.. which one is it?” Y/n looked at her mother, then her gaze dropped to her dolls, going left to the ballerina, then going right to the princess. “I want to be a ballerina. Now”

Her mother laughed at her daughter’s cuteness, placing a hand on her chest. “Now? Like actually right now?”

Y/n nodded, she was always so ambitious once she puts her mind on something.

What happened next was very very simple.

Y/n’s mother signed her up to a ballet class. Y/n kept excelling in every class and show she did.

One day, an employee of the Royal Ballet Theatre was attending her daughter’s show, that’s when she saw 10 year old Y/n on that stage. Dancing so delicately and beautifully, it’s like the music moves with her, not her moving with the music.

Long story short, Y/n has been climbing the fame ladder ever since.

Y/n practiced and practiced, day and night. Till the day finally came.

Little did the whole team know. This show was going to be different.

“Places everyone, places. Ready Y/n? Our Clara” the director said smiling at Y/n making her blush as she nodded her head, “I was born ready” “That’s what I want to to hear”.

As the show began with dancers left snd right, dancing as they practiced. One after another their facial expressions went from shocked to quickly changing it back to normal.

Y/n noticed their faces changing as she watched from the side of the stage, “Why are they shocked?” The director shrugged her shoulders “Maybe they each saw a ghost in the audience?” Y/n laughed and shook her head “I guess I’ll have to see that with my own eyes, I’ll report back to you after I do my first dance” Y/n said as she got in position, standing on her pointes.

As she always is, Y/n was delicate as she did her part as Clara, spinning and dancing on stage as if there were no one watching. That is until she saw him. Prince Takayama Riki, Prince of Japan.

As their eyes locked, Y/n felt herself slip, her ankle hitting the floor with a loud pop!

As Y/n was rushed to the medical examiner, he noticed something strange seeping from Y/n’s pointe shoes as they sat her down on a chair, “Oil?” He questioned looking at Y/n. “Did you do this to yourself miss Y/n?” Y/n was quick to deny “No of course not, why would I self sabotage myself? I just want to dance” “Well, I can tell you that whoever did this, they don’t like you very much. You need to rest for three weeks-” “Three weeks? I can’t rest, we have shows day and night, I can’t rest” “I know that this is important to you, but your health is more important. Listen to me, you won’t be able to dance in this condition, you can barely walk, let alone dance ballet. Take my word, rest up. I’ll put a cast around your foot, you’ll need crutches to walk around” Said the medical examiner as he quickly brought the tools to make a cast around Y/n’s foot. Y/n winced in pain as she held to her best friend Yuna “It’s okay bestie, at least you get three weeks off from this hell, right? You always wanted a break” Yuna tried to lighten up the mood by telling Y/n how much she wanted a break “Well yeah, but I was joking. I didn’t mean it” Y/n laughed but it was cut off by a wince “Did you see him?” Yuna asked as she look down at Y/n, Y/n looked up into Yuna’s eyes and slowly nodded her head “I locked eyes with him, that’s when my ankle gave up” Y/n and Yuna giggled.

“Are you okay Y/n? You didn’t look like you were in pain when your ankle popped” the director asked Y/n “Yeah I didn’t feel pain, I think the adrenaline of looking a prince in the eye made my pain disappear” Y/n answered. “Wait THE PRINCE? Japan’s own prince? The next one in line?” All the other dancers nodded their heads. “Oh so you’re telling me, your ass fell in front of prince Riki? That’s not gonna be good”

And as if on cue, the second the director finished saying his sentence, two security guards busted door open, followed by non other than the prince himself. His highness, Prince Takayama Riki of Japan.

“You’re the beautiful ballerina I locked eyes with? Are you okay?” Asked the prince.

The whole team was too shocked to speak.

Until the director broke the twenty second silence that felt too long.

“His highness asked you a question Y/n,” “Answer him”

And as if she was brought back to life, Y/n shook off all the thoughts clouding her mind and nodded her head up and down with a sweet smile plastered on her face “yes, yes your highness, I’m the one you locked eyes with”

“May we be left alone?” The prince asked looking around at the whole team, they eventually understood and all left the side of the stage to leave them alone.

At first, the two did nothing, partly because Y/n was sat on a chair with a cast around her foot.

Then, the prince approached Y/n, she bowed her head to him as a form of curtsy. Her eyes never leaving his, searching for some sort of reason as to why he decided to come all this way from the royal room and to the side of the stage.

He then sat next to her which took Y/n by surprise, her tutu’s fabric laced with the hem of his jacket.

They both looked at the fabric’s interaction, no words were spoken as the light above them surrounded them with warmth.

Y/n sneaked a glance up to his eyes, only to find him looking at her.

One thing led to another, and now they’re kissing.

Lips dancing together, as if they’re doing their own kind of ballet.