“Dude,” Hyuck says, already leaning too far over the counter. “You have to sneak me some tickets to the Superman showing tomorrow.” 

Renjun doesn’t even bother to look up. He flicks on the popcorn machine and starts wiping down surfaces like he always does at the start of a shift. 

“No,” he replies. And to anyone unfamiliar with his chronic grumpiness, it would’ve sounded borderline mean.

“What is the actual point of having a best friend who works at a movie theatre if you’re not going to abuse your power for me?”

Renjun shrugs. Keeps wiping. Hyuck isn’t easily deterred though.

“Come on,” he groans. “That girl I’m seeing from the art club—she’s a film major. I’m trying to surprise her.”

Renjun finally looks up, eyebrows raised. “By getting her free tickets to a movie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Casanova! Didn’t realise you were an expert in the delicate art of romancing women. That must be why you’re still clinging to your virginity like it’s a family heirloom—in your senior year of college.”

Renjun hisses—an actual hiss, like a feral cat—snapping his head away from the Icee machine to glare at Hyuck. It’s a glare that says shut up without needing syllables. A few patrons at the ticket machines look over, amused. 

Renjun exhales, hands on his hips now, like a frustrated mother. 

“You know,” he mutters, staring down his so-called best friend, “if I hadn’t known you since we were six, I think I might’ve actually killed you by now.”

It’s a joke. Friends have never come easily to Renjun. His parents say it’s his temper. His therapist calls it a deep-rooted fear of abandonment. He thinks it’s neither—or both—but honestly, he doesn’t care. The labels are irrelevant. Because he has Hyuck. And Hyuck is enough. 

[Plus, it's hard to break bonds forged in adolescence. And his bond with the idiot in front of him is cement.]

“Look, you don’t even have to comp the tickets, buddy,” Hyuck pleads. “I just need you to set two aside for me.”

“Can’t,” Renjun says flatly. “My hands are tied. Yuta literally said no reserves—get your hand out of there!”

He swats at his friend’s hand, which has made a criminally stealthy dive into the jelly worm cube. Hyuck yelps dramatically, pops one into his mouth anyway, and recoils like he’s been poisoned. 

“Okay! Okay! God!” he says, half-choking around the worm. “I’m just trying to reap as many best friend benefits from this job as I can.”

Renjun rolls his eyes aggressively. But still—he doesn’t kick Hyuck out. Because, well. Cement.

“I’m just saying,” Hyuck continues, “I’d keep two tickets aside for you if I worked here…”

He’s mid-rant—something about how movie theatre minimum wage should at the very least include a best friend stipend of unlimited nachos—when you walk in.

[You don’t know how long you’ve been there, but it’s long enough to agree with the loud one—best friends should get perks. Still, not really your place to chime in. You haven’t technically got the job yet.]

You clear your throat. 

They both turn.

Renjun recognises you immediately.

A girl from campus. All sunscreen and saltwater and chipped nail polish. Denim shorts that have absolutely seen better days, and a tank top clinging to your collarbones in the current humidity that makes everyone else look damp and miserable—but not you. No, you look beautiful.

You’re glowing. Girls like you always are. The ones who exist in crowds—always laughing, always surrounded. The kind of girl you notice across the campus quad, and immediately file under: not for you, not in your league, move on buddy. 

At least, that’s what Renjun did the first time he saw you in freshman year.

“Hi…” you say, offering the smallest, friendliest smile. “Are one of you Renjun? Yuta said you’d be here to tell me about the summer temp job?”

Renjun stares at you for a second too long. Long enough for Hyuck to clock it and make a mental note he’ll absolutely weaponise later.

Renjun shakes his head like it’ll rattle his brain back into place. Blinks, like he wasn’t just ogling you like a man with no self-control, and straightens his back. He turns stiffly to the calendar pinned to the wall behind him and squints. 

Fucksake.

He never gets his dates wrong. He’s methodical to the point of neurosis—another thing his therapist says with deep concern. His world is colour-coded and alphabetised and held together with industrial-grade tape.

But there you are. And here he is. And shit—he’s not ready.

Hyuck is the first to recover from your presence. He straightens up, all confidence, and leans back against the box office counter—freshly wiped down, might Renjun add, after he spent ten full minutes already cleaning it.

“Well hello,” Hyuck says, dragging it out like he’s George Clooney. “I’m Haechan. And you are?”

Renjun groans. Out loud. Rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck in the back of his head.

“No one calls him that.” 

Hyuck clutches his chest dramatically. “Ex-fucking-cuse me? Just you wait, Junnie. When I’m famous one day—and I will be, by the way—everyone will be calling me Haechan. It’s premature branding.”

“Sure, Hyuck,” Renjun sighs. “Except I don’t think they give out Grammys for delusion. Maybe an oscar?” 

You bite back a smile. You can’t help it. This is stupid. And weirdly charming. Like watching two cats fight.

“I take it you’re Renjun, then?” you ask, glancing pointedly at the guy behind the counter. “Junnie?”

Renjun visibly winces, then he closes his eyes and sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“That’s not—” He throws Hyuck a murderous look before looking back at you. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? You love it,” Hyuck grins, then throws a dramatic hand to his mouth as he stage-whispers to you, “He loves it.”

“I do not.”

“Pfft, you’re obsessed with it. Have been since we were ten.”

Renjun groans, pinches the bridge of his nose, and gestures toward the swinging door behind the counter. “Yuta’s office is through there,” he says to you. “He wants you to do paperwork first—I’ll be right through once I call pest control.”

“I am not a pest!” Hyuck scoffs, offended. 

Renjun bares his teeth. “You seem to live in the walls of my job like one.”

You disappear through the swinging door. Then, after a second of silence and a clasp:

“She’s hot,” Hyuck announces.

Renjun grabs the spray bottle again—same lemon-scented one he’s been using for the past half hour—and starts scrubbing at a spot that’s already clinically clean.

“Like, dangerously hot,” Hyuck adds now in sing-song. “And funny. You’re so fucked.”

“I am not fucked.” 

Hyuck leans on the counter again, folding his arms like this is all wildly entertaining for him. Which it is.

“Buddy,” he starts, “I love you, I do, but you just glitched.”

“I did not glitch.”

“You stood there and stared at her for three whole minutes, Jun. I counted.”

“You did not count.”

Hyuck swats his hand in the air, “Obviously not, you’re so literal, Junnie.”

Renjun stops cleaning long enough to fire a sharp look his way. “I said don’t call me that.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’re embarrassed I told your new little crush your childhood nickname.”

Renjun scowls. “She’s not—whatever. Can you just drop it?”

But Hyuck doesn’t drop things. He’s physically incapable. He’s like a wasp. Loud, annoying, and somehow immune to being swatted away.

“She’s your type,” he continues, tapping his knuckles against the surface. “Like, to an embarrassing degree. Pretty eyes, pretty smile. You’ve always been a sucker for that opposites attract thing, Mr Scowl.”

“I do not scowl,” Renjun mutters, “And I don’t have a type.”

Hyuck’s smile is knowing. “No? What about that girl from last spring?”

“That wasn’t a thing.” 

“Exactly. You never have a thing. You just pine. And sigh. And overthink. And talk to Joy about your compulsive need to repress every human emotion you dare to feel.”

[For reference: Joy is the therapist his parents have forced him to see every Thursday since freshman year of high school. Lovely woman. Too many cardigans. Always smells like cinnamon. Unfortunately, she’s infuriatingly good at her job according to his dad.]

Renjun exhales through his nose, letting his eyes flutter shut. He tries counting to ten—another therapy thing—but only manages to get to four before entertaining the pros and cons of homicide against his best friend.

“Can you just…not?” he says instead. 

But Hyuck never nots. It’s a biological impossibility. He exists purely to press buttons. And Renjun’s are flashing red.

Because the truth is—Renjun feels too much. He always has. So somewhere along the line, he decided it was safer not to feel at all. And you—with your chipped nail polish, lazy smile and flawless skin—are a threat to that whole system.

You’re a problem.

A problem in denim shorts (tiny ones, too, which he was absolutely not looking at—except he was, and he hates himself for it). A problem he’s going to have to endure for the next two months when all he wanted was a quiet summer before starting his final year of college. 

Hyuck lets the silence settle for exactly five seconds before ruining it. 

“Seriously, though. When Yuta said he was hiring a summer temp, I thought it was gonna be some high school kid trying to make enough cash for festival tickets or something. Not—” he gestures vaguely toward the door, “—a hottie with cheekbones.”

Renjun just stares at him. Hyuck doesn’t stop. 

“Like who—who—wants to spend their summer break selling movie tickets and sweeping up popcorn…”

“Hyuck,” Renjun says slowly, firmly. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Okay, okay. That was maybe a tiny bit foot-in-mouth. But come on, don’t be so sensitive. You get one pretty coworker and suddenly you’re all get out of my theatre—”

“I swear to God—”

“Alright, alright, I’m gone. Sheesh,” Hyuck throws his hands up. “Didn’t realise I had to evacuate the premises just because you’re having your first crush since puberty.”

Renjun doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Hyuck lingers anyway. 

“You know you’re allowed to like people, right?”

His shoulders still.

“You act like having feelings is gonna make you explode. Like caring about someone means handing them the power to shatter you. And maybe it does. But if you keep letting that fear run the show, you’re gonna miss out.”

Renjun keeps pretending the countertop needs attention. Hyuck sighs. He doesn't want to push, but he also kind of has to. 

“Look,” he says on a bated breath, “I’m just saying—if you keep building these walls, you’re gonna trap yourself inside them. You’ll never let anything good in. You’ll never meet anyone. Never let anyone meet you.” He gestures between them. “Hell, look at us.”

Because honestly, they shouldn’t even be friends. The only reason they are is because a six-year-old Renjun bit Hyuck over a blue toy car. He thought bringing it to school made it his alone to play with and that sharing was optional. (Spoiler: it wasn’t. Hyuck bit him back with the maximum ferocity a kid with three missing teeth could manage) 

There was a detention. A forced apology. And without his teacher’s sense of moral responsibility, Renjun probably still wouldn’t have a single friend to this day. 

“All I’m saying is…you’re not a robot, Junnie. You’re allowed to glitch a little. Because I’ll still love you. You’re my brother.”

Silence. 

Then Renjun exhales, slow and reluctant. “If you ever call me Junnie in front of anyone again, I will slash your tires.”

Hyuck presses his lips together as he smiles. In Renjun-speak, threats of violence are the closest thing to ‘love you too’ you’re ever gonna get. They’re also a neon sign for deflecting. But Hyuck’s not Joy, and he’s not stupid—he knows better than to poke that particular bear when his ride home is being threatened. 

He starts toward the door. Almost out. Then, because he physically can’t help himself, he calls over his shoulder. 

“Oh, and if Cheekbones has a sister, ask her to set me up.”

Renjun rolls his eyes again. “What happened to film major?”

“The theatre attendant cock blocked me for tickets to impress her!”

Once the door shuts behind Hyuck and the theatre quiets, Renjun lets out a breath and tosses the spray bottle onto the counter. He rakes a hand through his hair and walks toward the back room.

And wishes he hadn’t.

Because there you are. Legs crossed, comfortably stationed at Yuta’s desk, chewing on the lid of a pink fucking gel pen. You’re writing in soft, loopy letters that curl at the edges when you look up at him.

He looks away. Immediately.

[Because pretty girl.]

And you’re not the safe kind of pretty—not the girl-next-door kind. If you were, maybe he’d be able to act normal. (He wouldn’t.) You’re summer wreckage pretty. Glossy lips and thick thighs sticking to cheap plastic chairs kind of pretty. The hot kind of pretty. The kind of pretty that makes him glitch.

So, no. He can’t exactly look at you.

“You can tell Haechan—no sister,” you say casually before adding, “Only brothers.”

He freezes. Then flushes all the way to the tips of his ears. God. He hates when he does that. He hates that you can see it.

“You… heard all that?”

“Not all of it,” you say, shrugging. “Though I imagine I’d love to know all of it.” A smile. “Just caught the end. I was gonna head out since I finished the last few pages, but then I heard your friend leave and figured you’d be coming back here anyway.”

You hold out the clipboard. He takes it, glancing down at the cursive, ridiculously neat, heart-dotted i’s, cherry scented writing against the brown HR forms. 

“Right,” he coughs, awkward and quiet. Because his brain has officially stopped producing real sentences. 

“Cute, isn’t it?” you grin, eyes bright. “The pen and the hearts. My professors hate it, obviously—but I don’t know, it feels like… my own personal branding. Kind of like your buddy, Haechan.”

Renjun scoffs at the mention of the devil himself. “You literally don’t have to call him that. His name is Hyuck—no one is on board with the Haechan thing.”

“I know, you said that,” you hum, tilting your head just slightly. “But don’t you think it’s fun to indulge your friends’ delusions sometimes?”

He levels you with a stare. “No. I do not.”

“Okayyy…” you draw out, rising slowly from Yuta’s chair. “I see someone’s allergic to whimsy and fun.”

“You’re right,” he mutters. “It makes me break out in hives. You should probably quit now or it’s going to be a long summer for you…” His eyes flick back down to the clipboard, scanning to find it. “Y/N.”

Of course. Equally pretty name for an equally pretty girl. The universe hates him. 

“Ahhh,” you hum, like you’ve discovered something rare and thrilling. “So you do do jokes. They just come in the form of weaponised sarcasm. I can work with that.”

He clears his throat, a little too loudly, because he definitely doesn’t like where this is headed. He doesn’t like that someone other than Hyuck is able to handle—and even smile at—his sarcasm as if it’s not one of his best defence mechanisms, honed to perfection over years. And he absolutely doesn’t like that the person doing it is you.

“So uh,” he says stiffly. “If this is all done… your first shift is Monday. I’ll be here to teach you the ropes.”

You blink at him. Then smirk. “You’ll be teaching me the ropes?” You tip your head, feigning innocence. “That sounds… kinky.”

Renjun is certain he’s gone the exact colour of your gel pen.

“That’s not—I—uh—” He scrambles, tragically. “I meant the basics. Like, how the register works. Safety drills. Stockroom layout. Not—”

“I’m kidding,” you say with a giggle. “Although that was painfully easy.”

He coughs again to hide the fact that his brain has just short-circuited. Obviously you were joking. Obviously you do not want to get kinky with him in a supply closet whilst he shows you how to restock. He’s just—god—he’s so fucking bad at this.

“Well,” he says tightly, latching onto protocol like a lifeboat, “I suggest you reread the HR forms you just signed. Because jokes like that are definitely… crossing a boundary.”

There’s a beat of silence. You blink at him like you’re waiting for a punchline. It never comes. And then your face sort of… shifts. Because you realise he’s being serious.

Your first instinct is to laugh—to roll your eyes and tell him to relax, because it was just a joke—but something about the awkward way he’s holding the clipboard, the way he’s not meeting your gaze, makes you pause.

Instead, you bite your tongue. Hard. You tilt your head and school your features into something neutral.

“Right,” you say. “Okay. I’m sorry. That was inappropriate. You’re the boss.”

That makes him flinch. “I’m not—well—I mean, technically Yuta’s the boss, I’m just the floor lead, and I wasn’t trying to—” He sighs. Gives up. 

“It’s cool,” you say, already backing toward the exit. “You’re allergic to fun. You told me.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Anything else?” you cut in. Thumb hooked under your bag strap now, one foot already turned to go.

Renjun swallows, visibly. Then clears his throat again. “Uh. No. Just… be here Monday. Noon.”

“Got it,” you nod, already turning.

And that should be it. That should be the end. He should let you go. But he doesn’t. His fingers move before his brain does, and he reaches out to wrap his hand around your wrist.

He regrets it instantly. His mind screams at him: What are you doing? She’s leaving. Let her leave. Why can’t you ever just let things be easy? Stop being weird. You’re always weird.

[Joy is going to have a field day with this.]

“I didn’t mean to upset you—” he starts, then falters. 

God, what is he doing?

You glance down at his hand, then back at him. 

“No, it’s my fault,” you say, voice quiet. “I shouldn’t have made a joke like that with you… we don’t know each other. It was unprofessional.”

Renjun hates this. Hates that he can’t just be cool and let things roll off his back. Hates that you—this bright, unbothered girl with hearts on her i’s—feel like now you have to walk on egg shells because of him. Because he’s too literal and too guarded and too much. 

Always too much. 

Allergic to fun. 

“No. It’s not you,” he says quickly. “I know you were joking—I just… got in my own head. I was embarrassed…I don’t want you to leave here thinking I’m a jerk.”

“I don’t,” you say simply. “And I won’t.”

You gently slide your wrist out of his hand. He lets it go like it burned him.

“Well,” you say, brushing invisible lint from your shorts, casual again. “I’d love to stay and chit chat, but I’ve got a bus system to go and figure out.”

He frowns. “You’re taking the bus?”

You shoot him a look. “That is how public transport works.”

“No—I meant—what part of town?”

You tell him. His frown deepens. Two transfers. Forty minutes. Maybe more. He does the math in his head without meaning to. There’s cleaning, locking up, sometimes Yuta makes them wait for suppliers. Midnight isn’t unheard of.

And you’re going to walk to a bus stop? Alone? Take the bus at night? Alone?

“Don’t you have a boyfriend who can come pick you up?” 

Your brows shoot up, as you give him a big, open-mouthed grin. “Now who needs to reread the HR manual?”

His spine goes taut like you’ve jabbed him in the ribs. “No—I didn’t—” He blinks, flustered, then pauses. “That was… a joke?”

“Yes,” you say sweetly. “See? They’re fun, right?”

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I’m just saying… sometimes shifts run late. It would be in your best interest to make sure you don’t leave alone. Especially at night.”

“In my best interest?”

He nods. “Uh-huh. Maybe walk out with one of the others. Or… have one of those brothers come get you. Just to be safe.”

Your brows twitch, curious. “Are you… worried about me, boss?”

“No,” he blurts, too fast, too defensive. And it hangs there, brittle and stupid, until he rushes to add, “I just don’t want the theatre to be liable if something happens.”

“Right,” you nod. “Of course. Liability. Got it.”

Renjun shifts his weight and avoids your eyes. He regrets opening his mouth in the first place now because he is worried and he doesn’t even know why. You’re probably fine. But then again, this part of town can get weird after ten. 

“Well,” you say, adjusting your bag. “I’ll be sure to consult one of those brothers of mine about an escort home. Per your very professional advice.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “You’re a liability and a smartass, I see?”

“I am a fabulous multitasker, my friend,” you grin, tipping him a wink as you back toward the door. “But hey—look at you, really getting the hang of this whole joke thing.”

And then you’re gone, out the door and down the narrow hallway, your sneakers squeaking against the battered theatre tile. Renjun stands there for a second, alone in the hum of the back office, feeling oddly off-balance. He exhales. Pinches the bridge of his nose. 

It’s going to be a very long summer, he thinks.

Renjun’s anxious.

Which, isn’t exactly breaking news—he’s always a little anxious, it’s his baseline condition. Something his therapist calls persistent hypervigilance. But today it’s worse. More acute. More itchy under the skin. Because you start work in precisely twelve minutes. Not that he’s counting.

[He is. He absolutely is. Because you said the word kinky the other day, and he hasn’t had a coherent thought since.]

He starts fiddling with the Icee machine. Messing with the nozzles. Cleaning them. Again. Even though only one person’s ordered one since he clocked in. But logic isn’t the point. Rational productivity is dead in the water when his brain’s doing a hundred miles a minute. He just needs to keep busy. Needs to move.

Needs to not think about the fact that you’ll be behind this counter soon. In that tight-looking employee polo. Your name on a tag just above your left breast. And—

Stop. Fuck. 

He drops the rag with a huff, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He glances at the clock. Ten more minutes. He might actually throw up.

Then—a noise. No. A commotion.

Raised voices float in through the theatre doors, loud and irritated. There’s the low shuffle of feet, a collective murmur as patrons begin to file out, pulled toward the disturbance. Renjun frowns. Steps closer. 

Outside, the sidewalk crowd has swollen, huddling in a messy half-circle around something—someone—just beyond the glass doors.

And then he sees you. 

You’re standing on the curb, that employee polo clinging to your chest, the cotton damp from the humidity and stuck in all the wrong—or maybe right in different context—places just like he thought it would. He’s not sure he’s built to survive two months of working beside you in that ridiculous shirt.

Your hair is a mess, curls frizzed and haloed around your flushed face. And you’re livid. You’re flapping your arms at a red pickup truck, cursing all the while you're holding a cat. An actual cat. Small and orange and clearly feral, tucked against your chest. 

The cat yowls.

You shout louder.

Renjun doesn’t like this. His chest goes tight. He doesn’t like the way your voice cracks with fury. Doesn’t like that you’re yelling. 

And he especially doesn’t like that you’re being yelled at back—by a man twice your size, now fully out of his truck.

The engine still rumbles behind him, door swinging wide. He’s stomping forward in that puffed-up, red-faced way of men who try to intimidate. Renjun sees the way your body squares up in retaliation, your arms curled tight around that scrappy cat. You don’t move. Don’t back down or flinch. Not even when the guy jabs a thick finger in your direction.

Renjun really doesn’t like that. 

And maybe that’s why he doesn’t think and instead, he just moves. One quick step forward, sliding himself between you and this big, burly man. He just stands there like a quiet barrier. A nervous boy with shaking hands, who clearly doesn’t like confrontation, but is standing here with his shoulders squared, back straight, arms slightly out like he’s making space for you to breathe behind him.

But you don’t want to breathe. You want to yell. So you do—right over his shoulder.

“You bastard! You nearly ran over this cat! This poor innocent stray cat! I swear he sped up—It was just crossing the road—”

"Woah," Renjun says, even though his heart is thundering so hard he thinks it might crack his ribs. “Y/N. I need you to breathe. Just—calm down, okay?”

“Lady,” the man spits, ignoring Renjun completely. “You jumped right into the road! I swerved—nearly hit a pole—because of you! You could’ve been killed.”

You stiffen. And your voice hits a brand-new pitch. “Don’t you lady me! Do I look forty-five to your shitty eyesight?”

The guy blinks, confused and vaguely offended. Which—good. That’s what he gets for yelling at women in the street. You’re certain if it had been a man who jumped into the road, this guy wouldn’t be half as eager to square up. You adjust your grip on the squirming cat, who yowls again in solidarity. 

“You sped up! I saw you! What kind of man sees something alive in the road and presses the gas?”

“I thought it was a plastic bag!” The guy shouts back, throwing his arms wide. “What psycho dives into traffic for a stray cat?!”

Renjun flinches. Because—well, that part isn’t a completely unfair point. You did leap into traffic. And you could’ve been hurt. And that thought—the image of it—it makes him nauseous.

“Okay,” Renjun says, stepping forward just a little more. Just enough that your shoulder brushes his. Just enough that you have to lean around him to keep arguing. “Okay, let’s—let’s maybe not scream in the middle of the street, yeah?”

“Scream?” you echo, eyes wild. “You think this is screaming? I’ll show you both—!”

“Alright.” Renjun gently but firmly wraps a hand around your elbow. It’s a quiet tether, enough to guide you back towards the movie theatre. He casts a look back at the man, his voice an icy sneer.

“Maybe next time ease off the gas, yeah? It’s a twenty zone for a reason on this boulevard. Kids come here.” Then—an extra beat. “Oh, and maybe watch how you speak to women.”

The man scoffs. But doesn’t reply. Just mutters something under his breath and stomps back toward his truck. Which pisses you off even more—because of course. Of course he backs down the second it’s not just you. Because man doesn’t rise to man.

Coward.

Renjun turns his back on the dude completely. Tugs you along past all the bystanders that start scattering. His hand is still warm on your elbow. You’re vibrating with leftover anger, there’s no denying. The cat still in your arms yowling along egging you on as you retreat toward the theatre doors.

You look feral. Passionate. A little unhinged.

Beautiful.

Enough damn brain!

He exhales and pulls you down the hall—past the other employees he actually trusts to hold down the fort, past the staff room—until you both stumble into the familiar back office.

Yuta’s desk is a disaster. A crooked tower of paperwork, an abandoned protein bar, a rogue Minion figurine grinning in the corner that you think is weird. But then again—you’re the one carrying a stray cat into your new workplace. So. No leg to stand on, really.

You stride straight over, and carefully lower the cat onto the desk like it’s royalty. The thing hisses. Knocks over a cup of pens.

Renjun just stands there. Frozen. No, worse—dissociating. He’s absolutely seconds from combustion because no amount of persistent hypervigilance could have prepared him for the scene in front of him. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Eyes squeezed shut like that might somehow reset the last twenty minutes of his life. Because—what the fuck? This is supposed to be your first day. You were meant to show up fresh-faced and vaguely apologetic for being new. You were meant to shadow him for the afternoon, maybe ask him where the spare straws go. Not show up, technically, ten minutes late with a ginger tabby. 

He’s spiralling. 

You, meanwhile, are busy tearing open a granola bar from your bag and crumbling it in front of the cat, like that’s a normal thing to do in your place of employment. 

“What the actual hell are you doing?” 

“What?” you say, feeding the cat another chunk of granola.“The poor thing nearly died. She’s probably hungry.”

Renjun stares at you. Hard.

“Okay,” he says, dragging a hand over his face. “Let me rephrase. Why is there a cat in my boss’s office? Why are you feeding it when I’m supposed to be training you? And most importantly—what the hell are you planning to do with it until your shift ends at ten o’clock?!”

“Oh,” you say slowly, “I dunno. I figured I’d put her in a cardboard box in the stockroom?”

“You can’t put a cat in a cardboard box in the stockroom.”

“Why not?”

“Other than the fact it’s definitely a health and safety violation,” he starts. “We keep the ice in there, Y/N. Literal ice. For drinks. For paying customers. It’s freezing.”

You frown. “I’ll find a blanket.”

“You cannot—” he breaks off, pressing his fingers into his temples. He’s actually sweating now. “Where did Yuta find you?”

You shrug, entirely unbothered, and unzip your bag again. You’re rustling around in there like a raccoon until eventually, you pull out a pack of Skittles. Renjun shudders. 

“Skittles?” he mutters like it personally offends him. “That’s your candy of choice?”

You ignore that. Rip open the bag and start eating the red ones. Then you answer his first question, mouth half-full. “He’s my uncle.”

Renjun blinks. “He’s your what?”

“Uncle,” you repeat, already moving on to purple. “Yuta. Technically by marriage. He promised my dad he’d get me a job this summer.”

“Yuta Nakamoto,” he says slowly, like you might have confused him with someone else. “Our manager?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is your uncle?”

“Yup,” you say, popping an orange Skittle this time. “I’m a nepo baby. Sorry.”

The cat purrs. Renjun is convinced he’s in some sort of fever dream. Or maybe he’s getting punked. There’s too much happening at once. His head hurts. The office smells like granola and stray animal and coconut shampoo.

He wants to dig into the nepotism bomb you just dropped, but unfortunately there are more urgent issues. Like the cat—that is now hissing at him.

“I can’t believe you almost got hit by a car for a cat,” he mutters, half to himself.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those,” you shoot back immediately.

“One of what?”

“Men that hate cats,” you accuse. “Reeks of misogyny, if you ask me.”

“I don’t hate cats!” he snaps, defensively. “I like them. A lot. Very much, actually.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? Should we name her?”

“We are not naming the cat.”

“Fine, I’ll name her,” you shrug, even though that was your plan all along. “She feels like a Bonnie to me.”

Renjun groans. “I’m calling Hyuck. He can pick her up and drop her at a shelter.”

“Oooo, Hyuck,” you echo, tone lilting. “Your famous friend.”

“He’s not famous.”

“He said he was going to be,” you say confidently. “I like him.”

Renjun scoffs, pulling out his phone and dialling his best friend. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll ask you out.”

You grin. Bite the inside of your cheek. “He is pretty cute.”

Renjun stops mid-scroll then, and looks up. “What?”

“Hyuck’s handsome,” you say all airy. “He’s got that boy-thing. You know. Big smile, symmetrical face, very charming if you’re not really listening.”

Renjun blinks at you once. Then again, slower. He swallows. It looks a bit painful. Like he’s just tasted something bitter.

“He’s about 80% confidence,” you continue. “And most girls like that.”

There’s a silence 

Renjun’s phone is still in his hand but his thumb’s gone still over the screen. He’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring somewhere just to the left of your shoulder, like the thought of you and Hyuck in the same sentence has mildly electrocuted him.

“Do you?” He asks dryly, then has to cough. “Do you… like that I mean?”

It’s so quiet you almost don’t catch it.

You tilt your head. Study him. The slouch in his posture that’s turned just a little stiff. That small, twitchy crease between his brows. The pink creeping up his ears.

“I think confidence shows up differently for everyone,” you say, softly this time. “Hyuck's is...a cocky confidence. He’s the kind of boy that walks into a room and makes everyone look just because he wants to be seen.” You pause. Then shrug. “And that’s cool. I get it.  But I don’t know if that’s the kind I find truly hot.”

Renjun swallows again.

Still says nothing.

A knock rattles the flimsy office door.

You both turn. You with a Skittle half-melted between your fingers, Renjun like someone’s just snapped him out of a very intense daydream. His spine goes even straighter—if that’s possible—and he opens the door with a sigh. It’s Yushi, another employee.

“Jun,” Yushi says, already rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a lady out front asking for a supervisor. Her tickets aren’t showing up in the app, but she has no proof of purchase and she’s yelling at me.”

You watch Renjun close his eyes, then drag a hand down his face like he’s reconsidering every decision that’s ever led him to this job, this moment, this timeline.

“Great,” he mutters. “How is it only Monday?”

Yushi cranes his neck, glances past Renjun into the office—and blinks. His eyes lock on the cat licking crumbs off the corner of Yuta’s desk. He tilts his head slightly, drops his jaw.

“Don’t ask me about that thing.”

You interject, chipper. “Her name is Bonnie.”

Yushi stares.

“I’m getting someone to take care of it,” Renjun tells Yushi firmly, ignoring you.

Yushi nods weakly. “Right… and what about the lady out front?”

“I’ll come deal with it,” he says, already moving but then he remembers you and pauses in the doorway. “Can you—just run Y/N through the basics? Show her around until I get back. Lobby, screens, break room. Don’t let her near the Icee machine!”

“I told you not to let her near the Icee machine.”

“She insisted!” Yushi defends, throwing his hands up like a victim. “And besides, we all have to learn the Icee machine eventually.”

“Not from you, Yushi—” Renjun inhales. His brain repeats: deep breaths. Count to ten. Pretend you’re not actively inhaling the scent of blue raspberry. “This was supposed to be orientation. Like you showing her where the mop lives. Not—” he gestures wildly, “this.”

This being the now semi-splintered Icee machine, currently haemorrhaging red and purple and radioactive green all over the lobby. Customers are stepping around the mess like it’s a crime scene.

“You did not make that clear,” Yushi states flatly.

Renjun’s nostrils flare. “I did not make that clear?”

You, from your perch on the counter, swat the air. “Come on, guys. Let’s not cry over spilled slushies.”

Renjun swears he has the patience of a saint. Truly. Because today alone, he’s: prevented you from fighting a man in the middle of the street, watched you hand feed a cat in Yuta’s office like it was a toddler, handled a woman threatening to sue the theatre because her app glitched, and sprinted to the back to sneak Hyuck in and out of the staff hallway so he could take the cat to the shelter. 

[Okay, that last one was not professionally necessary, but—well—he didn’t love the idea of you seeing Hyuck. Not now. Not after you said you thought he was pretty cute. Which Renjun has no right to not like. But still, he doesn’t. Get in line to sue him, along with the lady.]

And now this. The Slushie Apocalypse.

He closes his eyes for a beat. Breathes in. Breathes out. When he opens them again, you’re licking Icee off your knuckle.

He might combust. The universe clearly wants him to suffer. 

“Jesus Christ,” Renjun says tightly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yushi—get Sion. You two are on clean-up. All of it.”

Yushi opens his mouth to protest but then he takes one look at Renjun’s face and wisely closes it again. He slinks off to the supply closet. 

You swing your legs off the counter and land lightly on your feet. “You’re very bossy when you’re stressed.”

Renjun turns to you slowly. Eyes dark.

“You,” he says, pointing. “Are coming with me. You’re learning the register. Now.”

You salute him. “Aye aye, Captain Scowly.”

He blows out a long breath and mutters something under it—something that sounds a lot like God, help me—before stalking toward the front. You trail after him, biting your lip to hide your grin.

“Okay,” he starts once you’re both behind the register. He taps the touchscreen twice, clicks into a menu, but doesn’t look at you. “This is your main screen. Left tab is for concessions, right tab’s for tickets. Don’t mess them up. The system’s temperamental and I’m not patient enough to fix it.”

“Clearly.”

Another scowl. Which is sort of his default setting with you. With everyone, actually.

“Joke,” you add, holding your hands up. “That was a joke.”

Finally he looks at you. And it’s a mistake. A catastrophic, retina-burning mistake on his behalf.

Because you’re leaning on the counter. And smiling. That wide, lazy smile you have. And your polo’s dipped just enough to reveal a lick of your cleavage and the top of your bra, which is red. 

He. Sucks. In. A. Breath. 

“This is the comp tab,” he says, voice suddenly hoarse. “You only use it on the rare occasion Yuta comps tickets. Or if there’s a delay. Otherwise, don’t touch it.”

You nod like you’re taking it all in. But really—you’re just staring at him. Like really staring. Because you haven’t had the time to yet, not properly. Not between the cat and the Icee machine and the fame-hungry best friend. But now, here, you finally look at him.

And—oh. Oh.

He’s cute. Actually no—he’s hot. In that awkward, tense, scowling and grumpy way that makes you want to poke at him just to get a reaction. He looks like he’s permanently nervous, and you weirdly like that about him.

“You okay?” you ask suddenly. “You’re… breathing weird.”

“I’m fine.”

But he’s not. His fingers twitch over the screen.

“Your hands are nice,” you say, like it’s nothing.

He stiffens.“I—what?”

You shrug. “Did I just break the HR handbook again? Because I was just saying. They’re like… veiny. And twitchy. It’s a compliment.”

“Veiny and twitchy is not a compliment,” he says, flatly. “That’s something you say about an old man.”

You blink. “You have veiny, twitchy old man hands?”

“I can’t do this,” he sighs, leans both palms flat against the counter and lets his head hang between his shoulders. “I actually can’t do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“This,” he gestures again, aimless, like your existence is giving him a migraine. “You. With your little comments. And your…voice.”

You feign offence. “What’s wrong with my voice?”

“It’s loud. And distracting. And chipper.”

“Woah,” you say, hand to heart. “That was rude. You make it sound like you hate me.”

“Maybe I do,” he mumbles. “Jury’s still out.”

You laugh, and Renjun hates the way it lodges somewhere deep in his spine, all warm and unsettling. You have absolutely no right to laugh like that, not today, not here, not with the day he’s having and you’re the centre of all of it. 

You lean in a little. Elbows on the counter. “Do I make you nervous, Renjun?”

His jaw tightens. “No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

You’re not buying it, and you don’t pretend to.

“Can we please focus?” he manages. “This is supposed to be you learning the system.”

“I am learning. I just also happen to be observing your blood pressure spike in real time. Told you, I’m a fabulous multitasker.”

He needs strength. God give him strength. He breathes out slowly. Through the nose. “Okay. I’m gonna have you try and ring up a small popcorn and a student ticket.”

“Sure.” You press a few buttons. Squint at the screen. “Wait, do I hit this or—”

Renjun leans over. His shoulder brushes yours and it’s subtle, but you feel it like static. He points to the correct tab, fingertip barely grazing yours. You swallow.

“Here,” he says, quiet now. “That one.”

You nod, but you’re not really listening. You’re watching the way his hair falls over his forehead. The angle of his jaw. The little muscle that twitches there when he’s concentrating too hard. You’ve never thought yourself a lover of grumpy men with a talent for brooding—but Renjun wears his scowl so beautifully. His lips curl, not in smiles, but in disdain. His eyes don’t glint. They glare. And God, it’s hot. Stupidly hot.

“You’re kind of pretty when you’re focused,” you blurt.

It’s out before you can catch it. A rogue thought made audible. You’d been teasing up to now—light jabs, nothing serious—but this one? This one came from nowhere and was completely impulsive. 

He recoils from the register, like you just touched a nerve.

“Are you incapable of just—not doing that?” he asks, voice taut.

“What? Complimenting you?”

“Flirting,” he grits. 

You blink, playing dumb. You weren’t flirting. Not technically. 

(Okay, maybe you were. But you’ve never had a boy be so viscerally opposed to your charm before—it stings. Is he not attracted to you? No, he has to be. You saw the way he looked at you last Friday. He was totally checking you out.)

“I’m not flirting,” you say, shrugging. “I’m observing.”

“Aren’t you the multitasker? He asks. “Maybe you’re observing and flirting.”

You narrow your eyes. “I wasn’t. You clearly don’t know what girls flirting with you actually looks like if you think this counts, Scowly.”

Something shifts then. Renjun goes still and it feels hollow. Because you don’t say the words like they’re meant to cut, but they still slice him anyway. And you don’t understand—you can’t understand—because in your world, the idea of girls not flirting with him is absurd. A joke. He’s hot. He’s brooding. 

But in his world, the rules are different. In his world, he doesn’t know how to flirt. Doesn’t understand the metrics. (Joy tells him flirting doesn’t have metrics and that the sooner he understands that, the sooner he’ll understand everything else. He doesn’t believe her.) He only knows how to observe from the edges. How to want things without touching them and live without expecting.

He doesn’t know how to stand in the middle of a moment like this and not feel like he’s already misread it.

“Wait—did I… that was—” you start, suddenly unsure.

“Another joke?” he finishes for you.  

Because of course it was a joke, he tells himself. Of course it was. How could it be anything else? Because you—this girl, beautiful and happy—would never flirt with him. You could never like him. Of course you don’t. He needs to stop being stupid. He needs to stop hoping.

Suddenly, he feels very young. Very stupid. Very…awkward.

“Renjun, I didn’t mean—” you start again, but your voice sounds far away now.

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Sion!” he calls out loudly over your shoulder. “Can you help Y/N finish her training?”

Renjun doesn’t wait for a response. He turns and leaves and forces you to watch his retreating back disappear down the hallway. Then Sion appears beside you, casual as anything, already logging into the register. The keys click and clack beneath his fingers in quick, practiced motions. 

“I don’t know what that was, but don’t take anything Renjun does personally,” he says, eyes on the screen. “He’s just… like that.”

You blink, still a little stunned. “Like what?”

“Pissy. Serious. A bit of a recluse. Weirdly allergic to happiness. Take your pick.”

You hesitate. “I haven’t upset him, have I?”

Sion glances at you then, just before looking back at the screen. “Nah,” he says, “Nothing upsets Renjun. Not really.”

You frown. “That can’t be true. He’s a human.”

“Allegedly.”

“Sion.”

He chuckles softly, types in a code. “Look—he’s a closed book. Doesn’t really talk to any of us, but I’m sure he’s fine. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

But you do. Because that sickly little knot in your stomach hasn’t gone anywhere. And now it’s got claws.

“So… he doesn’t have friends?” 

There’s a pause.

“He has that one friend,” Sion says after a moment, like it’s just come back to him. “Hae-something. I don’t remember.”

You glance toward the hallway again, even though you know Renjun’s not there anymore.

“But he doesn’t have any friends here?” you ask, softer this time. “Like, he’s not close to anyone?”

“Not really,” Sion says, pressing a few more buttons. “I’m serious when I say he doesn’t talk to us. Just barks orders and disappears. We all kind of leave him to it.”

You nod slowly, that coil tightening a bit more.

“Must be lonely,” you murmur, mostly to yourself.

Sion hums. “I think he likes it that way.”

“No one likes being lonely.”

Sion leans back slightly, considers you. His eyes aren’t unkind, but they don’t look understanding.

“You don’t know Renjun,” he says.

“Yet,” you correct, still looking at the screen. “I don’t know Renjun yet.”

“Yet?” Sion echoes, a little laugh tugging at his mouth. “You actually want to get to know Renjun?”

You glance at him. “I do. I think he needs a friend.”

That gets a laugh. A real one. “Pfft. Good luck.”

But you don’t need luck. You’ve made homes out of strangers before, and friendships out of enemies. What you have isn’t luck—it’s stubbornness. Grit. And you’ve decided—Renjun from work will be your friend.

Eventually.

Whether he likes it or not.

Renjun used to hate that Yuta dumped all of the manager duties on him. It felt like being promoted without a pay rise. But lately—this past two weeks—he’s been grateful for it. Because being in charge means he can quietly orchestrate the schedule to make sure your shifts don’t line up with his.

If you work mornings, he volunteers for nights. If you’re on nights, he switches to mornings.

He’s never needed space from a coworker before. Then again, none of his coworkers have ever been hot girls who make his ears burn and his cheeks flush just by existing. More than that, none of them have ever made him this self-conscious.

He’s still kicking himself from the last time he spoke to you. Still embarrassed. About his lack of experience. His lack of coolness. The way he shut down when he didn’t know what else to say—and how his default setting has always been retreat.

[In his session last Thursday, Joy told him that not everything people say is a direct attack on his self-worth. That sometimes, things are just a joke. And also, maybe, if he wasn’t always waiting to be rejected, he might stop hearing rejection in everything people say. But Renjun had disregarded that, because a ‘maybe’ is not protection. And he likes protection.]

But when Yushi texts last-minute to let him know Yuta’s approved him to have this weekend off for some music festival, Renjun stares at his phone in quiet horror for a full five minutes. Because the only person left to cover the shift… is him. With you. Which is exactly what he’s spent two weeks meticulously avoiding.

He considers calling around. Sion, Riku, Chenle—maybe even that kid, Sungchan, who quit last month. No one’s biting.

In hindsight, he probably should’ve made more of an effort to befriend his coworkers, if only so he could frame this as a favour. But unfortunately, his default setting is stoic and unapproachable, which doesn’t really invite casual alliances.

So, he sighs. Accepts his fate.

It’s a long shift, but the floor doesn’t really need two people. Not when you—according to Sion in the staff room—are already “lowkey better than Renjun at talking and deescalating situations with customers, no offence.”

[It was offensive. But Renjun said nothing.]

So he’ll do stock.

He’ll disappear into the back, under the guise of reorganising inventory or checking barcodes against order sheets. Anything that keeps him out of your line of sight. Anything that lets him avoid small talk. Or big talk. Or—God forbid—eye contact.

He won’t even eat in the staff room. He’ll take his lunch break outside, near the bins, like a little gremlin. It’s fine. He’s fine.

Totally fine.

That is, until he walks through the theatre complex doors and sees you—already there. Sat cross-legged on the counter, giving him a view of your bare legs in those tiny denim shorts that taunt him. An open bag of Skittles in one hand, popping them into your mouth like they’re vitamins. It’s 8 a.m.

Renjun almost scoffs. Not only because Skittles are objectively the worst candy—but because this wasn’t in the plan. He always gets in before anyone else on an open shift. That’s his thing. His quiet, controlled, nobody-talk-to-me-until-I’m-ready thing. You’re disrupting that. With your early arrival and your awful choice of candy.

He stalls for a moment, debates the pros and cons of just leaving. Maybe, if he comps those Superman tickets for Hyuck, he’ll cover the shift. 

[Yes. He is, in fact, that pathetically awkward around you; he’s willing to bribe his best friend that you for some reason, ‘find cute’ into working with you instead of him. He hates the idea. But he also hates standing here, sweating, as—]

You wave at him. With your perfectly manicured hand and that pearly, sunbeam smile. 

Fuck. His. Life.

Knowing he’s been spotted—and therefore robbed of his default setting—Renjun adjusts the strap of his bag and trudges through the doors of the theatre. 

You hop down from the counter as he approaches, far too happy for someone about to spend eight hours in an employee polo shirt. It's criminal, really. The optimism. The bare legs. The way your mouth is stained red from those damn Skittles. 

The way that turns him on.

He sets his bag on the counter and avoids eye contact, but when he glances up—there you are. Holding out the bag like it's a peace offering. He stares at it. Then at you.

Your brows pinch, confused. “I’m offering you one.”

“I can see that,” he mutters. “Why?”

“Because…it’s early and work is depressing and everyone likes candy?” A pause. “And it’s summer. We’re trapped inside. And this is probably the only sliver of joy in a long, miserable day.”

“Skittles are not candy,” he rebukes.

You cross your arms, lips quirking. “Yes, they are. They’re literally in the candy aisle in the store.”

“So is gum. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna call a stick of Extra a sweet treat.”

You gasp, offended. “That’s different. Skittles taste nice, and you actually ingest them.”

“They’re just sugar and food colouring in a hard shell,” he argues.

“Oh. So basically every candy ever, then?”

He looks scandalised. “No. You don’t get to lump Skittles in with Jelly Babies. That’s disrespectful.”

“Hold on!” Your eyebrows shoot up. “You’re attacking me for liking Skittles, but you rate Jelly Babies?”

He crosses his arms. Stands taller. “Absolutely.”

You sigh. “You know, I really wanted to try being your friend, but I’m not sure I want to associate with Skittle-haters. That’s a hard line.”

That gets his attention.

“Why would you be trying to be my friend?”

He asks it carefully. Suspicious, almost. Like the concept doesn’t quite make sense in his head. Which makes you feel…a little sad, honestly.

But to Renjun, no one—especially not co-workers—wants to be his friend. And that’s fine. He likes it that way. It’s easier. Safer. But this? You? That’s new territory. And he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

You pause, eyes flicking over him, taking him in. The defensive posture. The furrowed brow. The half-step of distance. You debate sugar-coating it. But Renjun doesn’t look like the kind of boy who likes things sugar-coated. 

He hates Skittles, for God’s sake.

So you settle on the truth. “Because you don’t really talk to the other guys here…You just seemed kind of lonely, I don’t know.”

He stiffens like you just poked him. “I’m not lonely.”

“Okay, okay.” You lift your hands in surrender. “Just an observation. If I’m wrong, I take it back.” You pause again, chewing your lip. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Or what I said the other day, either—”

“I know,” he says quickly, cutting you off. “I was just… a little overwhelmed that day.”

“I’m sorry. I was probably to blame for most of that.”

If you only knew.

He shrugs. “Mhm. Well. It’s fine now.”

There’s an awkward lull.

You purse your lips and tilt your head. “So… do you want a Skittle or not? The red’s gone. Sorry. They’re my favourite.”

He looks at the bag again. Sighs, but still takes one. A yellow one.Tragic choice, you think. He pops it into his mouth and chews slowly. 

“The yellow tastes the best,” he shrugs, “Still disgusting though.”

You beam. “See? Progress.”

He makes that low, disgruntled grunty-mumble sound he’s weirdly good at—somewhere between you’re annoying and fine, whatever. You busy yourself opening the register, pretending not to notice how he’s still there—arms slowly uncrossing, one hand resting on the counter like he’s trying very hard not to look like he’s hovering.

He is, though. Hovering in his own prickly, reluctant way. You don’t mention it. You don’t want to scare him off. He’s skittish, like a cat that can’t tell the difference between affection and threat.

He watches you for a second longer, then frowns. Like something’s just occurred to him, and he doesn’t like it.

“What are you doing here so early anyway?” he asks. “Did Sion give you a key? Because I told him—”

“Calm down, Scowly,” you cut in breezily. “I’m a nepo baby, remember? I asked Yuta.”

He scowls harder. “Why would you do that? Why would you even want to start your shift early?”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.”

That stops him cold.

He stiffens. Then—shoulders lifting, face smoothing into that lazy, unimpressed scowl he wears like armour—he shrugs. “I haven’t.”

You blink at him slowly. Like you’re giving him time to come to terms with his own lie. Then: “Okay. Great. Have lunch with me today.”

He should say no. He wants to say no. He had a plan—cold Diet Pepsi, last night’s leftovers, and the rest of break pretending to reorganise the stockroom by expiry date. No questions. No small talk. No you.

But now you’re looking at him like you’ve caught him red-handed. 

“No,” he says anyway. Because no is control. No is routine. No is safe.

“Why not?” you counter. “If you’re not avoiding me, what’s the issue with lunch in the staff room, buddy?”

He says nothing.

Because here’s the thing: he didn’t just avoid you because you flustered him. He avoided you because deep down, he doesn’t know what he’d do if you did like him. And even worse—he has no idea how to keep breathing if you get to know him and decide you don’t.

But there you are. Bold. Beautiful. So damn determined. You’re so forward, he genuinely can’t tell if he should be intimidated or turned on.

[He chooses intimidated, but only because he doesn’t want his cheeks and ears going pink again. But let the record show—he is very much turned on. Like, tragically.]

You don’t break eye contact. You just wait, like you’re sure he’ll fold eventually. Which he finds annoying. Because you’re right. Which means he’s wrong. And he hates being wrong.

He shifts his weight, jaw twitching. The corner of his mouth does this little muscle flicker like it’s debating a frown or a smirk. Smirk loses the battle so he frowns harder.

“You’re very persistent,” he mutters.

“And you’re very reluctant,” you counter, cheerful as anything. “Look at us. Balance.”

He closes his eyes like you’re giving him a headache. But then he exhales—long, through the nose—and it’s the kind of sound someone makes when they know they’re about to do something they’ll regret but do it anyway.

“Fine,” he says. The word is begrudging, but it’s still a yes, so you don’t care.

You grin, victorious. “Great! I’m clearly in charge of bringing the candy.”

“I’m bringing my own lunch,” he grumbles, turning to go. “This isn’t a picnic.”

“Aw, no sharing?” you call after him, all singsong.

But he’s walking away now, and you swear you catch the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth—tiny, and crooked, and pretty. You don’t mention it. You don’t want to scare it off. You just let it sit. Because it feels like progress. And it’s cute. And you wouldn’t mind seeing it again over lunch.

Renjun presses the phone to his ear and paces the narrow hallway outside the staff room. His lunch is still in his backpack, sweating beside a crushed bag of crisps, begging to be eaten. But he’s in no rush. Because inside that room—inside that very enclosed, too-small room—is you. 

Hyuck answers on the third ring, voice thick with sleep and absolutely zero sympathy. “Dude. You better have a damn good reason for waking me up before 2 p.m. on summer vacation.”

Renjun ignores that. “She asked me to have lunch with her.”

There’s a pause. “Who?”

“The Queen of England—who do you think, dumbass?”

“Y/N,” Hyuck says, finally connecting wires that apparently weren’t plugged in. “Okay… and the problem is?”

Renjun makes a strangled sound. “The problem is I said yes.”

There’s silence on the other end. Then the telltale crinkle of sheets. “Buddy. I’m really trying to meet you where you’re at here, but I still don’t get how having lunch with the pretty girl you obviously have a crush on qualifies as an emergency.”

“Because I said yes to her, Hyuck. Me. In the staffroom. With talking. And chewing. And eye contact.” He stops pacing, forehead thunking against the wall like maybe he can press the anxiety out through his skull. “What if I forget how to swallow?”

“You’ve been doing it pretty well for twenty-odd years, Junnie. I think your throat’s got it covered.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I know,” Hyuck says, not even pretending. “Because it’s lunch. Not an episode of the fucking Bachelor.”

Renjun groans and lets himself slide dramatically down the wall until he’s sitting on the cold tile floor. “I just… I don’t know what to say to her.”

“You’re asking me for flirting advice?” Hyuck sounds vaguely delighted. “Oh my God. My son is growing up—”

“No. No—it’s not like that,” Renjun snaps, immediate and defensive. “She said she wants to be my friend.”

There’s a very knowing pause where Hyuck doesn’t say anything.

“She did!” Renjun insists. 

“Mhm. And I definitely read Playboy for the articles.” 

Renjun groans again, “Look…I—I don’t know how to talk to friends,” he continues to mutter, all awkward panic. “I only know how to talk to you. And even then, it’s mostly just me freaking out about something and you laughing.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Exactly. So, unless you’re planning on hiding under the breakroom table and mouthing answers for me, I’m going to say something stupid and then want to climb into a hole and die.”

“Okay. Dramatic much?” Hyuck drawls with a yawn. “First of all, you’re not going to die. Second, you don’t need my help. She asked you to lunch. She already likes you. Lean into yourself.”

“I can’t lean in. Leaning in is how people fall.”

Hyuck groans, a wry chuckle in his tone. “So literal. Jesus. Look, you just need to be…” He pauses, as if sifting through a mental thesaurus for words that won’t send Renjun spiralling further down his anxiety rabbit hole, “…a little less emotionally constipated than usual.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Don’t argue with me.”

Renjun sulks. Full pout. Eyes rolled up like he’s waiting for the ceiling to cave in and take him with it.

Unbothered, Hyuck keeps on. “Start basic. Ask her about her favourite music, her favourite food, any weird little obsessions she might have. People love talking about pointless shit no one else really cares about. You don’t even have to say much—just nod like it matters and make those ‘mm-hm’ noises you do when I explain movie plotlines you couldn’t care less about.”

“I do care,” Renjun argues. “It’s important to listen when people are talking. It’s rude otherwise.”

Hyuck’s tone softens. “I know, Junnie. That’s why you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“That doesn’t make me feel less worri—”

“Huang Renjun,” Hyuck interrupts, tone snapping. “Stop stalling and get your dramatic ass off the phone and go eat lunch with your not-girlfriend before she thinks you’ve ghosted her like an asshole.”

“I’m not—”

But the line’s already gone dead.

Renjun sighs, dragging himself upright. He brushes invisible dust off his shirt and looks ahead at the door to the breakroom. He takes a trembling breath, swallows hard, and tells himself it’s just lunch. Just a girl. Just talking.

Then, with a final, reluctant courage, he opens the door and sees you. 

Hair piled carelessly on top of your head. One leg tucked beneath you, the other bouncing. A highlighter (pastel pink, of course) twirls absently between your fingers. The table in front of you is covered in clutter: textbooks and worksheets and sticky notes. 

You’re already chewing—which, to be fair, is completely justified. You’re ten minutes into your break thanks to his endless pacing and procrastination outside. But your brow is furrowed, eyes narrowed in on what looks to be a biology diagram.

You don’t even notice him at first. But then the door clicks shut behind him, and you look up. Freeze. 

“Oh my God—sorry, sorry!” You blurt, one hand flying to your mouth, the other scrambling to gather up papers, your hicken salad still very much mid-chew. “I didn’t think you were coming—God, I thought you were gonna stand me up or something, ahah—”

Renjun thinks this might be the most human he’s ever seen you. And somehow, the panic that had been eating him alive in the hallway melts.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” he says quietly, walking in and letting his backpack slump to the floor. “I just…” he gestures vaguely toward the hallway, “…had to make a call.”

You blink at him, cheeks puffed, chicken salad still working its way down. Then, with an exaggerated chew and swallow, you finally speak again.

“Right. Yeah. Makes sense,” you say, nodding. “Totally narcissistic of me to assume you'd be straight off the clock and racing in here to hang out with me. I just—uh—thought you maybe forgot. Or changed your mind. Which is fair, since I was sort of bossy about this. Bit of a dictator, my brothers say.”

You make yourself laugh. It barely makes it past your throat, tangled in nerves. Your hands move faster now—gathering sticky notes, closing a textbook, trying to make the table look less like a warzone.

Renjun watches you. You’re flustered. Which is strange. You’re not usually like this. You’re the one who walks in already laughing. Says something quick and clever before anyone else can even breathe. Always a little untouchable. But now, you’re all half-sentences and twitchy hands, hair falling out of its knot, sleeve shoved up, pink highlighter smudged along the back of your hand.

It’s…cute.

Which he hates noticing.

He leans forward and grabs a worksheet you’d missed. He lets the paper crinkle between his fingers, for a moment, so you can gather yourself back to normal. He knows all too well what it feels like to be overwhelmed. To need space and not be offered any. So he waits.

[Hyuck said: Take an interest. Care about what she cares about.]

“What were you working on?”

“Oh—this,” you say, shoving papers aside. “I—I’m in college. It’s all stuff for that…”

Renjun lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “I gathered,” he says, voice dry. “You do realise I go to the same college, right?”

You blink. Squint. Tilt your head like you’ve misheard him. “Wait… You go to my college?”

His other eyebrow joins the first.  “Your college?” he echoes. “Yes. I attend our college.”

“No, come on. Like, my college. As in, we go to the same one?” You stare at him. Then laugh like this has to be a bit.

He simply stares back. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

Your smile twitches, turning lopsided. 

“Wait,” you say, “are you a freshman?”

“No. I’m a senior.”

“You’re a senior?”

He nods once, slow and sure. “Same as you.”

You stare at him, mouth slightly open, jaw halfway to the floor.  There’s a full-on moment of you trying to reboot. Because that… that doesn’t make sense.

You’ve never seen him at a single party. Or a student union thing. Or in the campus quad. You’re on the events board. You run half the events. You know people. You know who’s in your year, who’s dating who. You’re the type who knows faces, voices. Surely, you’d remember him.

 Wouldn’t you?

“I just thought you like… worked here,” you say slowly.

“I do work here.” 

“No, I mean like—I thought this was your full-time job. Like a real job.”

You’re rambling now. You can hear it happening.

“Because, like, you’re just… always here. Not like the other college hires who are clearly only here for the popcorn and the comp tickets. You actually—like—do stuff. You take it seriously.”

There’s a pause. A long one. You immediately wince. 

“That sounded so rude. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

Renjun shrugs. “Didn’t sound like a compliment either.”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “This is going so badly. I’m supposed to be trying to be your friend, but I’m pretty sure I’ve just offended you.”

Across from you, Renjun doesn’t meet your eyes. He wants to be offended. That would be simpler. If he acted insulted right now, he’d have an excuse to leave this lunch meeting he’d been internally spiraling over for the past two hours. He could shrug, shut down, write you off as just another person who pokes at things that aren’t theirs to touch.

But Hyuck’s voice loops in his head like a virus: She already likes you. Lean into yourself. Ask her about her favourite food. Favourite music. Weird obsessions. Nod like you care.

[If you keep building these walls, you’re gonna trap yourself inside them. You’ll never let anything good in. You’ll never meet anyone. Never let anyone meet you.]

Renjun clears his throat. His eyes fix on something just past your shoulder, anywhere but your face. (Baby steps.)

“What’s with the school stuff anyway?” he asks finally, jerking his chin at your open workbook. “It’s summer break.”

You shift at that—uncomfortably. Like he’s the one doing the poking now.

“I—yeah. It’s…” You glance down at the notes, at the highlighters and dog-eared pages and scribbled annotations. Your mouth twists. “It’s embarrassing.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You swallow. “If I tell you, you have to give me something embarrassing back.”

Renjun narrows his eyes, slow and sharp. “That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how I work.”

He exhales through his nose, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Joy’s voice floats in like a windchime in a therapist’s office: It’s okay to be vulnerable, Renjun. Vulnerability is how you form deeper connections—real connections.

[He would argue that vulnerability is also why the girl he liked in tenth grade told him he “looks like someone who doesn’t get invited to things.”]

He crosses his arms. “So let me get this straight. You want me to spill some personal shame so that you’ll… what? Tell me why you’re revising in August?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

He stares.

You stare back.

“This feels like an unfair trade,” he says. “Since I’m in a constant state of embarrassment around you. Like that first conversation when you mentioned that—um…”

You raise an eyebrow. The universal sign for go on.

He coughs, eyes darting to the side. “That thing you said. About me showing you the ropes sounding… kinky.”

You laugh, and it’s loud. Louder than you mean it to be. Loud enough to throw that pretty flush across his cheeks just like the first time. Strangely, you want to press your finger to it. 

“That’s different,” you say, leaning back in your seat like you’re not suddenly aware of how small the table between you two feels. “I never asked you to be embarrassed about that.”

“And I never asked you to be embarrassed about doing schoolwork in summer,” he fires back. “You just decided it was, without giving me a fair assessment.”

You suck in a breath. “Okay. Fine.”

He looks at you, waiting. And you hate how that makes you feel—like he’s sucking your secrets from your chest to examine. You wonder if that’s how you make him feel. 

“I’m revising because I failed my exams,” you say.

It’s quiet after that. You glance down at your notebook. Your handwriting looks awful now. Unintelligible. Pathetic. You want to close it. 

“My professors are letting me resit my exams in September,” you continue. “Mercy resits. You still haven’t told me your stance on nepotism, but my dad had some strings pulled. Connections. I think he’s sick of seeing me spiral.”

You shrug. Try to make it sound light, like you’re not bleeding all over the table separating you.

“I tanked this year. Like, genuinely. Turns out, everything I should be good at, I’m not. And I could give you a whole monologue about stress and expectations and pressure and whatever else sounds noble—but I wouldn’t want to bore you with it.”

And that’s when Hyuck’s voice surfaces again, like a particularly smug ghost in Renjun’s head: People love talking about pointless shit no one else really cares about.

But it’s not pointless. Not if he cares. And he does. He really, really does.

“I wouldn’t be bored.”

You still. “What?”

“If you told me,” he says. “About all that stuff.” He pauses—just a beat, like he didn’t mean to say that truth out loud, but now he has and he has to process it.  “I wouldn’t be bored,” he says again. 

You finally glance up at him. He’s not laughing. He’s just watching you. And you watch him. 

And for once, he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t deflect or look away or throw up some dry, clipped comment like a shield. His eyes—God, his eyes—are open in that way that’s pure. Sweet, almost. Which is ridiculous, really. There's nothing sweet about Renjun.

Except right now, where he’s… eating a sandwich?

You’re not even sure when he pulled it out. It’s just there suddenly, in his hands as he looks back at you. He takes a slow bite. And it’s weird—so weird—how vulnerable it feels. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t bat an eye. But it’s not. It’s him. Him who’s sitting and eating and showing no sign of retreating. 

And all you had to do was be honest.

So you keep going.

“You’re serious?” you ask, voice small but steady. “You’d be interested?”

He pauses mid-chew. Nods once.

You breathe out slowly, nervous energy bubbling up in your chest. But you don’t stop.

“I mean, I know I sound super privileged, complaining about getting a second chance.” You laugh, but it’s brittle. “But it started when I chose the wrong major. Or—no. I didn’t even choose it.”

He swallows. Sandwich forgotten, just resting in his hands now.

“My parents picked it,” you say. “Technically my dad did. But they were both on board. Said it was tradition. All my brothers are in it. A family of doctors, hopefully.”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“And I was supposed to fall in line like a good little legacy. Smile for the university photos. Intern at the practice my parents own over summers. Learn to love it, or at least pretend.”

“But I hate it. I hate it. Every second. Every lecture where I have to sit there and pretend I know what’s happening. Pretend I care. I hate how I know I’ll never be as good as them. How they’ve already mapped out my life. Even being here they decided for me because I wasn’t ready for a real work environment and need experience.”

Your voice shakes a little. But you don’t stop.

“I didn’t forget to study,” you say, and this time you’re not even looking at him, just at your own hands, clenched tight in your lap. “I did a lot. It just… doesn’t click.”

There’s a silence, then—deep and thick and full somehow. But not in a bad way. Not the kind that strangles your lungs or wraps around your throat like barbed wire. Not the kind that makes you want to run. This one feels like space.

Like he’s giving you space.

When you finally meet his eyes again, that softness is still there. That stupid, impossible sweetness stitched into something that looks an awful lot like understanding. Like knowing. Like seeing.

And he doesn’t say I get it, the way your friends do. The way people do when they want to sound kind but really mean I actually don’t care and didn’t expect you to get all deep and serious.

He just sits there. In it. With you. Which—somehow—is worse. But also better. God, you don’t know!

Renjun finishes chewing, sets what’s left of his sandwich gently back into its sad little crinkled wrapper, then says: “What would you do instead?”

You stare. “What?”

“If it was up to you,” he says. “If you could actually choose. No family politics. No guilt. No expectations. Just…” He shrugs, glancing at you. “What would you pick?”

You hesitate.

And you hate that you hesitate. You, who always has an answer. But this—this isn’t something people ask you. No one’s ever cared what you want.

You glance away, swallow hard around the lump in your throat that shows up uninvited.

“I don’t know,” you admit. And then, after a beat, “Something like PR, maybe. Or…communications. I’ve always loved media stuff. Talking to people. How we all have stories to tell.”

He huffs out a small laugh.

You shoot him a defensive look. “What?”

He shakes his head, that half-smile tugging at his mouth again. “Nothing. Just… that’s fitting.”

“Fitting?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and shrugs, like he’s trying not to make a big deal of it. “I mean—you’re talkative and persistent. Kind of annoyingly so, actually. And you’re like—” He waves a vague hand at your face. “Very expressive. I could see you doing something like journalism.”

You stare at him. And then you laugh. Actually laugh. The sound bubbles up all surprised and kind of stupid. He smiles back too, in his own little way. Not full-teeth, not wide. 

“Thank you.”

His brow furrows. “For what?”

You look at him, a little sideways. “No one’s ever asked me that before. What I want.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He doesn’t say anything for a second. The softness in his expression is different now. Less curious. More pity. And then, so quiet you almost miss it:

“…They should’ve.”

Over the next two weeks, Renjun’s surprisingly not anxious.

Turns out, there’s no real need to be. Not when his shifts line up with yours—something he’s been subtly, progressively, trying to orchestrate.

[Subtly, in this case, meaning he’s spent an embarrassing amount of time swapping shifts and inventing flimsy reasons for doing so with Sion.]

The two of you have developed… not a friendship exactly, but something dangerously close to it. A rhythm. You get there earlier than him most days—still with the spare key Yuta gave you—and by the time he wanders in, you’re already halfway through your signature bag of Skittles.

Lunch is always together now. Sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes talking about your classes. You tell him about biology; he tries to help where he can, but he’s a math major, so the best he can offer is the occasional pep talk and a skeptical look when you call cellular processes “evil.”

There are days when you’re buried in textbooks and your knee won’t stop bouncing from stress. On those days, Renjun will dig into his bag and pull out an extra packet of Skittles—already opened, already sorted, already purchased before work—pushing the reds and purples toward you without comment.

[He’s discussed this with Joy, of course. She raised an eyebrow and asked if it was a “thoughtful gesture” thing because he cares. Renjun rolled his eyes and insisted it wasn’t—he just doesn’t like the red or purple ones, and the yellow ones have started to grow on him, and really, what’s the point of wasting perfectly good candy?]

Like he said—you're not friends. You haven’t exchanged numbers. You don’t text.

[He does, however, know your middle name and your birthday, and that you’re one of those people who cries during sad movies but still like them anyway. You know equally random facts about him. (No middle name, March 23, absolutely no to sad movies.)]

And somehow—despite neither of you graduating to the official title of friends—he doesn’t hate coming to work as much. Because you’re funny. You make him feel funny. Like maybe he isn’t always three conversational beats behind like he is with Yushi or Sion.

Besides, it’s good that the two of you aren’t friends, because his attraction to you is definitely not friendly.

Especially not today.

Peak summer, the air thick and heavy, the fans doing absolutely nothing except pushing around warm air. Your cheeks are flushed from the heat, strands of hair sticking damp to your temples. Sweat glistens along your hairline, trickling down in a way that gives his brain ideas he is absolutely not proud of—ideas that make his ears burn and that, mercifully, he can blame on the weather if anyone asks.

You turn at the Icee machine, pressing your cup under the nozzle, and casually unbutton the top button of your employee polo. His eyes track it before he can stop himself.

“Fuck me,” he blurts, way too fast. Recovery is essential. He needs to not look like a teenage boy undone by the suggestion of a collarbone. “I mean—it’s so hot! I swear this government is unethical, making us work on a day like this.”

“You know…” You glance at him over your shoulder, smirking. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you curse like that. Nice to know it’s legislation that gets you riled up. Man of morals, I see.”

“Of course,” he mutters, tugging at his own collar now. “There should be… I don’t know, an emergency heat clause. Like if it’s over thirty degrees, everyone gets a day off. Paid.”

You hum in approval. “Mmm, paid time off? I like how you think, Junnie.”

The sound you make—a soft, almost careless hum—shouldn’t be a problem. But then there’s the heat. And that ridiculous nickname Hyuck told you about but he likes on your lips. And the way you shake your head so your hair catches on your neck, then gather it up, baring skin he has no business noticing. The arch of your arm, the way your neck is suddenly bare, the little wisp of hair curling at your nape. 

He swallows again, throat tight.

You loop the hair tie around your ponytail and, like you’re trying to finish him off, grab another from your wrist. In one swift motion, you gather the loose hem of your polo and knot it at your waist. The cotton pulls tight, and there’s suddenly an inch—maybe two—of glistening midriff in plain sight.

That’s it. His brain flatlines.

Renjun stares like an idiot for a fraction of a second too long, eyes fixed where they shouldn’t be, before jerking them away so fast his neck twinges. His throat is so dry he might actually choke on his own breath.

“Renjun!”

He jumps, nearly dropping the stack of paper cups in his hands. Yuta’s voice booms from the back office, sharp and impatient.

“You deaf boy? I said my office. Now!”

Renjun clears his throat—pointless, because it still feels like sandpaper—and mumbles something that might resemble “coming.” 

“O-oh, sounds like you’re in trouble,” you giggle, playfully.

Renjun does not feel playful. 

In fact, he refuses to look at you. Absolutely refuses. Because if there’s even a fraction more of bare skin on show than there was five seconds ago, whatever’s left of his senses will absolutely fry. 

He has no idea how long Yuta’s been yelling, but the man sounds pissed. Normally, that would trigger a mild panic attack, (Renjun likes this job, and he’d prefer to keep it) but right now?  Any excuse to escape you—flushed and gorgeous and absolutely lethal—is a blessing.

He shuffles past, heat prickling up his spine in a way that has nothing to do with the air temperature, and slips into Yuta’s office. The door clicks shut.

Yuta immediately does the most suspicious thing imaginable—peering out into the hallway like a man being tailed by the FBI. Then, satisfied no one’s watching, he slams it shut and sucks in a breath.

For a moment, Renjun considers the possibility that his boss has gotten himself involved with the mob, and is actively trying to recruit. Then he remembers: this is the same man who owns a display case for his Minion figurines.

“…Can I help you, boss?”

Yuta leans forward, eyes darting toward the closed door like someone might be listening. “TheACisbroken,” he whispers in a single, panicked breath.

Renjun blinks. “…What?”

“The. A. C.” Yuta chops the air with each letter, like he’s testing whether or not Renjun’s deaf. “It’s. Broken.”

Renjun stares at him. “That’s what you called me in here for? I thought—” He stops himself, “Why is this a big deal?”

“It’s a big deal because,” Yuta starts, eyes deadly serious, “it’s a violation of workplace regulations to not maintain a safe temperature in this building. And I don’t know whether you’re aware but, it’s sweating balls out there. If the customers—or employees—find out, we could be sued.”

Translation: he could be sued.

Renjun was joking earlier about there being some kind of heat clause. But now here’s his boss, deadpan serious, confirming that not only does it exist—he’s currently in breach of it. He can’t wait to tell you—

“Wait.” His thought derails. “If the employees can’t know… why are you telling me?”

“Sheesh!” Yuta groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I thought you were one of my smarter ones.”

“That felt… backhanded.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yuta swats the air, already moving on. “I need you to help me evacuate the theater. Employees out. Tell them it’s a leak. No more ticket sales.”

Wait—”

“There’s only one showing left,” Yuta barrels on, ignoring him entirely. “It’s got about an hour remaining. Then you lock up.”

“You want me to…” Renjun’s brows furrow, “lie to everyone, kick them out, and then close the building? All because the AC is broken?”

Yuta straightens. “Yes. And do it quietly. No panic, no lawsuits. Happy as Larry.”

Renjun opens his mouth, closes it again. He’s not sure what’s worse—being the one who has to clean up this mess, or that his boss is completely fine with knowingly committing what has to be several workplace violations.

Maybe he should be glad he’s one of the favourites. Right?

Yuta doesn’t keep him long after that. He’s not exactly the chatty type unless he needs something, and apparently, Renjun has been “needed” enough for one day.

When he finally gets the all-clear to leave and push the office door open, the wave of humid air in the lobby almost knocks him back. And there you are—perched on the counter, elbow braced on your knee, watching him like you’re waiting for a confession.

“What did you do, bad boy?” you ask, low and teasing, a slow grin creeping across your face as you hop down.

Renjun groans—a mix of a sigh and a choke—running a hand over the back of his neck. “Nothing. And don’t call me that.”

“Then what did Yuta want? Come on. Spill.”

He exhales. “He wants me to end—”

The theater door bursts open, and a teenage boy—short, hoodie, backpack, pimpled face—ambles up to the counter. You don’t miss a beat, not anymore, leaning forward with your perfected customer-service smile. 

“Hi there! What can I get you?”

Renjun slides in before the kid can answer. “All showings are closed, sorry buddy.”

The boy hesitates, in the middle of fishing for his wallet. Then says:  “No, they’re not.”

“Exactly. They’re very much open.” Your head swivels toward Renjun, eyebrow lifting. He does not relent. 

“No. They’re not.”

“There was a showing that started twenty minutes ago,” you scoff. “I sold tickets for it.” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Pretty sure it does.”

He folds his arms, jaw tightening. “Closed.”

You stare at him for a beat, then exhale through your nose, turning back to the kid. “Sorry, buddy. You’ll have to come back tomorrow. And hey, be sure to ask for Y/N—I’ll give you a discount for the inconvenience.”

The boy shoots Renjun a confused look before retreating.

As soon as the door swings shut behind him, you fix Renjun with a suspicious squint. “Is there a reason you’re turning away my uncle’s customers?”

“Is there a reason you’re offering discounts when you don’t have that kind of power?”

You lean in, voice conspiratorial. “Two words, Junnie: Nepo. Baby.”

He snorts. “Ah, yes. How could I forget.”

“So… let’s have it,” you press. “Why are you scaring off the clientele?”

Yuta’s words echo through Renjun’s brain. He should tell you the truth. You two are close—not necessarily friends, no. Because you haven’t said that word out loud or asked him to be one since the first lunch. (Do people even announce friendship past the age of eight anymore? He’ll have to ask Joy.) But Yuta made it clear: Tell them it’s a leak.

Renjun feels a bead of sweat slide down his temple. He’s ninety percent sure it’s heat-related. Ten percent sure it’s you-related. “There’s… uh… a leak.”

“A leak?”

“Yes. A leak.” He gestures vaguely upward, as if the ceiling might spontaneously cave in right this second. “Dangerous. Unstable. Very… leaky.”

“From what rain? It’s cracking the flags outside.”

“A loose pipe.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Uh-huh...”

“Yuta told me he’s shutting down for the day, actually, so…” Renjun sucks in a breath. “I suppose that means you’re allowed to get off early. Yay.”

You eye him skeptically but decide to let it slide. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you getting off?”

“Me? No.” He shrugs, cheeks colouring. “Not yet, anyway. Not until the last showing is evacuated and cleared.”

“I can stay and help—”

“No need.” Renjun waves you off. “Yuta put emphasis on getting everyone out of here. Don’t think he’d be thrilled if I kept his precious niece behind. What did you say again? Nepo baby?”

You cross your arms, chin tilting. “You really think I’m just gonna leave my favourite co-worker to clean the theatre in potentially dangerous circumstances, alone? I cannot, in good conscience, let that happen.”

His brain stops on favourite co-worker.

Favourite. As in—number one. The word does something alarming to his chest, and it’s very inconvenient because he’s supposed to be shooing you out the door, not wondering if that’s a subtle way of you claiming his friendship. 

He shakes his head. “Yes. That’s exactly what I think you’re going to do.”

You groan. “Renjun, I’m happy to help—”

“Nope.” He cuts you off, pointing at the door “Out. Go. Frolic. Spend your uncle’s money. Get a tan.”

Your brow arches higher. “You’re hiding something.”

“I’m hiding nothing. Just doing my job.”

“Renjun—”

“Y/N.” He does you the service of logging your employee account out of the register before you can argue again. “Go. Before Yuta accuses me of endangering his favourite niece.”

“I’m his only niece.”

“All the more reason to keep you alive.”

You sigh, finally stepping aside toward the staffroom. “Fine.”

Renjun doesn’t relax—not fully—until you disappear through the door. And even then, he’s left with the echo of that favourite co-worker comment ricocheting around his skull.

Favourite. It’s absurd how much he wants to believe you meant it. Like, statistically, it could have been sarcasm. Or a playful joke, you like those. Or an attempt to butter him up so you can sneak extra free Icees from the machine without him reporting it to Yuta. And yet…

You reappear a minute later with your tote slung over your shoulder, hair slightly mussed. He pretends not to notice the way his chest loosens when you come back into view.

“I’m still not convinced you’re not hiding something,” you say, swiping your timecard through the time clock with a satisfying beep.

“I’m not.”

“Right, well, enjoy your leak,” you toss over your shoulder as you push the door open.

He salutes you with two fingers, like this is just any other end-of-shift goodbye and not you walking away with a word—favourite—that has somehow turned into a problem for him.

You give him a quick wave before stepping out into the bright afternoon. The theatre door swings shut behind you, and Renjun is alone with his thoughts and the faint scent of your shampoo. 

It takes Renjun exactly two hours to clean out the patrons and the theatre. Thankfully, Riku—the other employee on shift, a sophomore in college with zero attachment to minimum-wage hours—took almost no convincing to go home early. And now, it’s his turn. 

He kills the lights, wrestles with the lock until the key finally relents, and turns—and freezes.

Because there you are. 

Across the boulevard, crouched on the pavement, absolutely besotted with a puppy. The owner—a wiry old man in a flat cap—stands next to you looking equally happy. Renjun blinks a few times. Does a double take. Because you’re not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be halfway home by now. 

The old man looks up, spots Renjun, and points at him. Just—points.

Renjun frowns. He definitely does not know this man. The ratio of elderly patrons to teenagers at this theatre is laughably low, and he can count every senior citizen he’s seen walk through the doors over the years on one hand.

You glance up, following the man’s finger. Your smile curves into something different—mischief, maybe—and you say something to him before giving the puppy one last affectionate stroke. Then you straighten, thank him, and start walking.

Toward him.

Shit.

Renjun’s face contorts, because why are you walking toward him? 

“Have fun clearing up?” you call, your voice carrying across the street.

“Why haven’t you gone home already?” 

“I was waiting for you.”

Renjun blinks. The words land like someone’s taken a baseball bat to his frontal lobe. You were waiting for him. Waiting. For him.

His first instinct is to do that defensive, flustered thing he does—cross his arms, scowl, pretend he’s too busy for this, for anyone. His second instinct is to ask why, but his mouth is already dry and his pulse is doing something it has no business doing.

And now you’re close enough that he can see the faint crease between your brows, the smug curve of your lips.

He swallows. “Why?”

“Because it’s not every day your boss gives you the day off in the middle of summer vacation,” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. “It’s only three p.m. We should do something.”

Renjun blinks. “Like… hang out?”

You laugh—light and easy, like obviously. “Yes, Renjun. Like hang out. What did you think I meant, start a gang?”

He swallows hard, because this—this is not in his wheelhouse. Hanging out is something other people do. People with large friend groups and brunch plans. People who don’t consider listening to Hyuck explain the “multi-verse” to be the pinnacle of their social life.

He doesn’t hang out with anyone except Hyuck, actually. And maybe Riku when they’re stuck on the same shift. And sometimes Yuta if you count the awkward five minutes before closing when Yuta comes to do the books.

But you? Outside of work…?

“I—uh—” His voice cracks, which is humiliating, so he clears his throat and tries again. “No… thank you?”

Your smile drops, and it’s like someone dimmed the sun on this entire street. “No thank you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Renjun,” you say, firmly, “I waited two hours in this fucking heat—”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, but I did because I want to hang out with you.” You flail your hands in emphasis “I thought you were the one making a protest about wanting the day off. Heat clause, remember?”

“Yes—but… I… didn’t think—” He cuts himself off before he says something stupid. Like, I didn’t think you’d actually want to hang out with me. Or worse, I was only talking about the heat clause because I got turned on by the sight of your bare neck.

You fold your arms, studying him like you’re trying to work out if he’s being deliberately obtuse. “What would you be doing now anyway?”

He shrugs.

“You obviously have a plan,” you press. “Yuta has just given you the rest of the day off. Where were you headed right now?”

“Home.”

“Home?” Your disbelief is almost comical. “In this heat? You wouldn’t, like, go to the beach?”

“No.” He says it like it’s obvious. “I don’t like the beach.”

“You don’t like…Everyone likes…” You pause, sucking in a breath like you need to reassess the entire situation and what you’re dealing with. “What do you like, then? How do you even hang out?”

Renjun briefly contemplates the pros and cons of admitting that he is a senior in college who… does not hang out. Not in the conventional sense. His days consist of drawing in his room, the occasional call with Hyuck, and—if he’s feeling particularly social—a game of chess with his mother or Scrabble with his father. Not making plans in town with pretty girls who somehow turn him on just by looking at him.

“I don’t like anything,” he says finally.

“Not true.” Your eyes widen in disbelief. “You have to like something.”

He shakes his head, and the small, stubborn tilt of it makes you want to groan. He’s not being fair right now—not when you’ve been patient and curious and more than willing to overshare about yourself.

“You know everything I like,” you argue. “Where I shop, the clubs I’m in, my favourite cocktail—” (The little boutique run by that fashion student on 12th Street, volleyball, Sex on the Beach—yes, he turned red the first time you told him that.) “But you? You don’t talk about you. I want to know you.”

“I’m not that interesting.”

“Not true either,” you huff. “You have a best friend who thinks he’s the next Justin Bieber. You saved me from a burly truck driver when I was possibly—possibly—in the wrong. And Yuta trusts you enough to tell you the real reason he shut down the theatre today and not anyone else. You’re layered, Renjun. You have to be. I want to know."

Renjun has never considered himself someone worth knowing. That’s probably why he’s such a good listener—because listening means the focus isn’t on him. Because he’s perfectly content with the brief little fact files you hand him. Enough to build a clear picture of you without ever offering his own in return. Without facing judgement.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says, and he is. “I don’t really enjoy anything. I’m scowly. I hang out with Hyuck sometimes to watch movies. My favourite hobbies are… solo activities.”

You watch him carefully. You see it—the quick flicker in his eyes that says this is me letting you in. It’s subtle, so subtle most people wouldn’t notice. But you do. Because you want to.

“Right. Okay.” You swallow, plant your hands on your hips. The move shifts your tied-shirt just enough to reveal another small strip of skin, and Renjun’s eyes flick away so fast it’s almost comical. He swallows too, but not for the same reason.

“Well, how about this…” you say slowly, “we find a two-person activity you like.”

He groans, dragging out your name. “Y/N…”

“How do you feel about fro-yo?”

No. Absolutely not.

Renjun is not a pervert—he swears he isn’t—but the mental image that crashes into his brain is entirely inappropriate. You, in this heat, still in that fitted employee polo, licking a melting swirl of frozen yogurt…that’s not an activity.

“How about mini golf?” you ask, like you’re just spitballing here.

No. Absolutely not part two.He knows he’s bad at mini golf, and knowing you, you’d end up standing behind him to help him with his swing, which means touching, which means smelling your shampoo, which means your boobs pressed to his back. That’s not a recreational activity.

You tilt your head. “Okay… bowling?”

Definitely not. Bowling means you bending over to roll the ball, and Renjun’s moral compass is not equipped for that kind of challenge. Not with your tiny shorts. 

“All right, then. What about—”

“No.” He cuts you off before you even finish. He doesn’t know what you were going to say, but statistically speaking, it probably involved you doing something hot and him not surviving it.

You stare at him for a long beat, and he can see the moment you abandon subtlety. “Fine. We’re getting ice cream.”

His jaw drops. “That’s basically just fro-yo—”

“Wrong. It’s better. And everyone likes it.” You step back, already grabbing his arm and pulling him along. “We have to start somewhere, and if I keep letting you decide, you’ll brush me off forever.”

The metal chair outside the ice-cream parlour does nothing for your spine. It wobbles every time you shift, but since you insisted on eating your sweet treats outside in the sun—much to Renjun’s protest—you grit your teeth and settle in anyway.

“Mint chocolate?” You ask, because how can you not.

Renjun doesn’t even look up from his cup. “Yes, mint chocolate.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised, actually,” you lean back, arms folded. “You’re the kind of person who likes the yellow Skittles. Like a freak.”

His eyes flick to yours, amused. “Oh, excuse me, Miss I-eat-the-red-Skittles-first-and-leave-none-for-anyone-else-so-they-have-to-eat-the-yellow-and-green.”

“That’s an awfully long winded nickname you have for me, Junnie.”

He shrugs, entirely unbothered, and spoons a scoop of green-speckled ice cream into his mouth. “I suppose you getting strawberry makes sense too, then. Clearly your favourite.”

The spoon you have stalls halfway to your mouth. “Do…” your voice cracks, which is just great, so you clear your throat. “Do you actually like the red Skittles? I assumed you didn’t. Since you made fun of my candy choice the first day. I thought you were only eating the yellow ones because I had them. You know, convenience.”

Renjun hums thoughtfully. “They are convenient, I suppose. I don’t mind them overall. You clearly like the red. You always grab red first, then purple, then orange. So, I’m fine with letting you have them.”

Something in your chest twists. You just… look at him.

He blinks back. “You’re not gonna kill me for not wanting the red ones, are you? You’re not overly defensive about your favourite flavour or anything, because I was only trying to do something nice, sheesh.”

“No.” Your voice is sharper than you mean it to be. “That’s not it.”

His brows pull together, a crease forming between them. “Okay…?”

“You know the order I eat my Skittles in?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, “You eat them every shift.”

The moment the words are out, Renjun wonders if that’s… weird. He thinks about it. He’s memorising your candy consumption pattern. Is that creepy? 

[He wishes he could text Hyuck right now—Hey, hypothetical question, if you happen to know someone’s sweet hierarchy without them telling you, does that make you a stalker or just observant?]

Before he can spiral too far down that mental rabbit hole, you interrupt his thoughts.

“My ex-boyfriend would always eat the red first when I bought them,” you say.

Renjun freezes, spoon hovering midair. He’s not sure which part of that sentence he dislikes the most. Actually—scratch that—it’s all of it. Mainly the part where you had a boyfriend who didn’t notice small things like that. But selfishly, he likes that he didn’t notice. Because Renjun has. And now he knows exactly what you look like when you eat Skittles in your preferred order. Happy.

Then he remembers he has absolutely no right to be comparing himself to your ex-boyfriend.

“Were they his favourites too?” he asks instead. “Because I’m not the biggest fan of strawberries, but if there were mint-choco Skittles, I’d fight you for them. Tooth and nail.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, we get it. You like mint choco. But no—he didn’t care about Skittles. Used to say the same thing you do, actually—that they all taste the same. Sugar and food colouring.”

Renjun smirks. “I’d say he sounds smart, but… he’s an ex for a reason. So maybe I should say he’s… not shit?”

“Surprisingly not,” you say, still laughing. “We ended on good terms. He was my brother’s friend. I don’t think we were ever really right for each other, you know? We just… had the same group of friends.”

He hums, listening closely, but his grip on his spoon is tight. 

You cough lightly. “So… what about you?”

“W-what about me?” Renjun asks, voice cracking in a way that makes him want to melt straight into the pavement.

“You know.” You lean back in your wobbly chair. “Any ex-girlfriends who made fun of your mint-chocolate obsession?”

He blinks. “Oh.” Then again, after a pause. “Uh… no. Not really.”

Your brows lift. “Not really, or…?”

He clears his throat and waves his spoon vaguely, like that will shoo the question away. “I mean—why would they? Mint-chocolate’s objectively the best. You’re just a hater.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.” He shovels another big bite of ice cream into his mouth, like stuffing it full is the only way to keep you from asking follow-up questions. He needs to change the subject—fast.

“Anyway, speaking of being hateful—”

Your phone buzzes against the table then, the sharp little vibration cutting him off. You glance down, thumb swiping across the screen. Whatever’s on it wipes the grin clean off your face—the dimple in your left cheek (the one Renjun has privately made it his mission to coax out as often as possible) vanishes like it was never there. The sight makes something in his chest pull tight.

“You can answer that, you know?” he says carefully.

“I know…” You keep staring at the screen, then sigh, shoulders slumping. “It’s just—my brother. He’s being a suck-ass to our dad and is trying to set me up with a tutor.”

Renjun frowns. “Isn’t that a good thing? I’m pretty sure you said you wanted one last week.”

“I did. I do.” Your fingers tap an absent rhythm on your cup, the strawberry ice cream inside already beginning to melt. “It’s just… the tutor he’s trying to set me up with is his friend, Jeno—my ex.”

Renjun’s not sure why the word ex is suddenly the loudest thing in his head, like it’s bouncing off every wall in there.

Jeno. Friend-of-your-brother Jeno. Tutor Jeno. Ex-boyfriend Jeno. (Who you ended on good terms with Jeno!) 

He doesn’t even know the guy, but the fact that this Jeno person exists and gets to be in proximity to you again makes Renjun want to fold his arms and tell you it’s a terrible idea. Not because he’s… jealous or anything. Obviously not. He just—well—tutors should be unbiased, right? And how unbiased could someone be if they’ve, you know, dated you?

“Seems… unprofessional,” he mutters, stabbing his spoon into his ice cream hard enough that a little chunk flies over the rim and onto the table. “You should… probably get someone else. Just saying.”

You give him a deflated look. “I know that…” you sigh. “Can we talk about you instead? Your major?” You ask, leaning forward a little. “I know it’s math, but what do you want to do with that?”

Renjun’s spoon stills in his cup.

He knows that sigh. The subject-change sigh. The problem is—that’s his move. His escape hatch when you’re poking at something he doesn’t want to talk about. And for some reason, watching you use it now makes something restless uncurl in his chest.

Because you didn’t actually agree with him about Jeno. You didn’t say, Yeah, you’re right, I should get someone else.  You just… sidestepped.

And now he doesn’t know where you stand on the whole being in close proximity to an ex thing. Which is not his business. He knows that. He has no right. He just—hates not knowing more.

“Math,” he says finally. “It’s my major because I like it.”

“Way to rub it in.”

“Har-har,” Renjun exhales, glancing down at the table. “I don’t… know yet. What I want to do with it, I mean. Probably be an accountant.” He shrugs, trying for nonchalance but not quite getting there. “I just… like numbers. They’re predictable. You know where you stand with them.”

“Sounds very… stoic.”

“I am stoic.”

“I know, but…” You take a deep breath, choosing your words. “Is that really what you want to do? You asked me about dreams… are these really yours?”

He thinks for a moment. As boring as it sounds, these are his dreams. The reason he’s so strangely protective of them, so steady and—yes—stoic, is because everyone treats them like he’s settling. Like giving up. But the world needs accountants. They help the tax year go smoothly. 

“I know they sound boring,” he says, “but for as long as I can remember, I’ve craved stability. Wanted the boring because unpredictable freaks me out.”

[This feels like a breakthrough. He makes a mental note to tell Joy about it next Thursday—he’ll just say it happened with Hyuck to avoid any other awkward prodding questions. He doesn’t want to unpack that.]

“Is that why you didn’t like me at first?” you tease. “Because I’m a mess?”

“No,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever not liked you. I’m just…”

“Scowly?”

“Scowly,” he agrees. 

“You know,” you say, licking the last spoonful of your ice cream, “you sound like my parents’ wet dream.”

He snorts, a genuine laugh escaping. “You’re kidding—because you’re my parents’ wet dream too.”

“Me?” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “The chronic partier? The one who failed half her junior year? The ringleader of that absolutely ridiculous campus protest about pink pens in exams?”

“That was you?”

“Uh-huh,” you grin.

He shakes his head, still smiling, eyes warm. “You forget to mention the emotionally vulnerable part. The interesting part. The sociable part.”

“And you’re all those things too, Renjun. You just…never allow yourself to be.”

The words hang between you, but he doesn’t say anything.

You nudge his shoulder gently. “Maybe one day,” you say quietly, “you’ll let yourself be all of it.”

He meets your gaze again, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Renjun’s not sure what’s gotten into you today. You seem... off. Like your usual spark has dimmed. He first noticed it when there was no early morning greeting—which, sure, maybe you don’t need to be here at the movie theatre that early just to say hello, even if his brain had started to think it was normal. Started to expect you waiting by the door like clockwork.

But there’s no jokes, either. Just the occasional twitch of your lips when he tries to tease or toss out sarcasm, but no bite back. Hell, there’s not even a packet of Skittles in your bag. He’s brought an extra packet, just for himself, he swears. Insists, actually. When he offers them during lunch, like he always does, you just shake your head and push his hand away. 

It’s like you’ve done a complete 180.

Is it his fault? Was it because he let a tiny piece of himself slip through—showed you a side of him that’s basically a boring loser with nothing to offer? And now, because you know, maybe you don’t want to be his friend anymore. Not that he’s even sure you were friends in the first place.

It’s only when the clock hits 8:00 p.m. (time for you to clock off) that you give him the smallest, most hesitant smile. Renjun wants to savour it, to hold onto that flicker of warmth, but the smile is paired with a goodbye, and suddenly it feels less like a gift. 

Hyuck’s voice rings in his head then: “Your overthinking has been simmering, man.”

It’s about to re-simmer. 

Because right now, as you smile—really smile—for the first time today while saying goodbye, Renjun can’t help the whisper of doubt curling in his chest. Maybe you’re glad to get away from him. Because he’s weird.

[Joy’s voice cuts through the spiral next: “People are allowed to have bad days, Renjun.” Sure, she was talking about you during that session, but Renjun is pretty sure it applies here too. So, forcing himself to play nice, he pushes past the knot in his throat.]

“You’re not… waiting for the bus in this weather, are you?”

The sky is bruising purple now, sunsetting, the air humid with rain that feels like it might actually save you from getting sick—but Renjun knows better. All rain is bad rain. 

“Nope,” you say with a small grin. “I’ve been taking your advice from day one. Got one of those brothers of mine to escort me home. Turns out, the buses around here are weird.”

He allows himself a small smile in return. “That’s… good. Well bad, I suppose.”

“Yep.” You sling your tote over your shoulder and glance down at your phone. “He’s outside. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Renjun nods, and then immediately berates himself silently. Ask her if she’s okay, idiot. She always asks you. Why can’t you?

“Yeah,” he says instead, voice a little too flat.

And just like that, you’re gone—for all of five minutes.

“Ugh! I told you not to do this, Jeno!”

Renjun stops his methodical cleaning of the counter so his eyes can snap to the glass doors of the theatre. That name—Jeno—rings loud and clear, in his head. So does that voice. Your voice. 

You’re stalking through the doors, tote swinging on your shoulder, jaw tight, and—something new—anger flashing in your eyes. That frown. Renjun hasn’t recognised this version of you since your first day with road rage. And yet, he immediately recognises he doesn’t like it.

“Y/N…pleaese. I wanted to talk to you and you wouldn’t—”

“So, you went scheming with my brother to what…?” You snap. “Force me to talk?”

“No–I—”

The stuttering guy trailing behind you looks way too tall, way too handsome to be stumbling over his words like this. But this is you. Renjun knows all too well what it’s like to be a stuttering mess around you.

Except… you’ve never directed this look at him. And God help everyone, you look pissed.

You’re furious—short, sharp breaths; knuckles white around your tote strap.

“I don’t want to hear it,” you bite out. “I’m not in the mood. You can turn around and leave. I’ll make my own way home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s pelting out there,” Jeno says, stepping forward, too close. Way too close. “Let me take you home. We don’t have to talk about the—”

“Leave.”

Now you’re seething. Ready to erupt. Anyone with survival instincts would already be halfway to the parking lot. But apparently Jeno’s survival instincts are… nonexistent. Because he has the audacity—the sheer gall—to reach for your wrist.

Renjun’s teeth clamp down.

It’s not jealousy. Obviously not. He’s reasonable. He’s composed. Stoic. But there’s a heat curling low in his chest now. Protective, he decides. That’s all it is. Like the day with the truck driver. Same thing. Definitely not because your ex is touching you like that.

“Y/N,” he hears himself say before he even means to—stepping out from behind the counter, voice completely steady. “Everything okay here?”

“She’s fine,” Jeno says, without looking at him.

Renjun’s eyes cut to him. Sizes him up. 

[Hyuck would tell him it’s not a fair fight, that he should quit while he’s ahead and call security. But that’s not the point. The point is you.]

“Okay. But I was asking her,” he says quietly. “So I’ll ask again. You okay?”

“I’m okay,” you answer, eyes still fixed on Jeno. “I just want him to leave.”

Renjun shifts his focus. The look he gives Jeno is measured. Scowly. Then: “What are you still doing here?”

Jeno lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You don’t even know her. Y/N, why are you—”

“Don’t talk to him like that!”

“Oh, I get it,” Jeno sucks his teeth. “ I can’t yell at him but he can talk to me like he’s some big hotshot, swooping in to save you?”

“So you admit it,” you say. “That I need saving—from you?”

Jeno’s jaw tightens. “I’m trying to do your brother a favour—”

“Exactly.” Your voice slices clean through his. “You’re doing this for Y/B/N, for my dad. Not for me. Go.”

The sound of his teeth clicking shut is almost louder than the rain. He yanks out his wallet, pulls a twenty, and shoves it into your palm, with more force than necessary. 

“Don’t get on that shitty bus,” he says. “Take a cab.”

Then he’s gone. The theatre door swings shut with a slam that echoes for a breath too long before dissolving into the hush of rain against the glass.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Renjun moving. A hesitant shuffle—like he’s carefully calculating each step he takes toward you. His mouth opens.

“Whatever you’re going to say. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/N—”

“Please.” You turn fully now, eyes glassy but not spilling. You hate the idea of spilling in front of him over this. “I respect your boundaries about stuff like this. It’s bad enough you had to see it. Don’t make me explain.”

He almost laughs because that might be the most inaccurate sentence you’ve ever said. You do not respect his boundaries. Like, at all. You’ve bulldozed them since the day you waltzed into his life, making BDSM jokes, breaking the Icee machine he told you not to use yet, getting into shouting matches with truck drivers over cats, coercing him into lunch, dragging him out for ice cream, trying—relentlessly—to be his friend.

You haven’t just ignored his boundaries. You’ve tested them. Worn them thin. And maybe—just maybe—it’s time he returns the favour. Baby steps.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head. “You’re still on shift.”

Renjun shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I’ll get Riku to cover me. He owes me one.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. “No. You don’t have to—”

But he cuts you off with a quiet, sure smile. “I know. But I’m offering. Keep that twenty bucks from that idiot, and I don’t know—buy yourself a Sex on the Beach or something.”

The corners of your mouth twitch up—lighter than anything you’ve managed all day. “I think I need it…”

He hums softly, eyes flicking down to watch your fingers rub up and down your arm. 

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Okay.”

jeno. it felt worse than it looked. or so you thought since your eyes stays closely shut as you bite your fist. the pain comes in waves and you're gritting your teeth and seeing stars from the impact, still disoriented and on the ground. and you haven't opened your eyes for a few long minutes, trying to muster up the strength to see the wound that was surely bleeding badly because it hurt badly.

it's been a terrible week for you, you admit it. much worse than last week and the week before that. your back was marked with an X from the moment the famous lacrosse player, lee jeno, started taking an interest in you.

no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, deny it, and not run into him so as not to make things worse or make enemies, they always ended up finding you.

you tried to put up with it, but the abuse escalated as jeno began to pry into your bruises or why you were hiding in the lunch breaks.

he couldn't understand that it was because of him. because of him, this was happening to you. because of him, now your whole body hurts like hell and nothing but laughter comforts you. until all shut up.

that is why it is in contrast and you get startled, when you feel his hands gently pass under your legs and take you in his arms. jeno's touch on the injured leg causes you to choke a groan, feeling like he squeezes you a little against his chest. “shh, it's alright...”

you keep your eyes closed as you feel him take you with him, and little by little it feels less aching, the way he holds you is soft, just like his calm and deep voice soothes you. “i'll take care of it.”

jisung. you get startled again, a small, involuntary jump that made his cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. “sorry. sorry,” he mumbles, tumbling words out as he continues to clean the wound with surprisingly delicate hands.

he seems oblivious to the fact that his long hand, resting against the inside of your calf, was the real reason for your flustered reaction. it’s warm, loose, and… comforting in a way that made your breath ragged. “i could've taken care of it alone,” you manage to say, trying to ignore the distracting warmth against your skin and the way your heart had suddenly decided to pick up its pace.

you catch when he smiles, a boyish, disarming grin that forms two crescents of his eyes . “sure you could, pretty,” he replies, nonchalant even though you sense amusement dancing in his brown gaze. “but,” he looks at you, meeting your attentive eyes. “i just wanted to do it myself.”

if only he knew… you thought. the reason you flinched wasn't from the sting of the antiseptic, but because it was him, jisung. jisung in his leather jacket and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. the epitome of cool nonchalance. so different from the kind, gentle projection tending to your injury with such focused care.

“why?” you ask, genuinely curious.

the question hangs in the air for some time where you weigh on who was the real him, hoping it meant something. that his expression open and sincere, were real, just like his words, “i don't like to see you hurt,” he says, his voice quiet.

his attention was focused on your face, his brow furrowed in concern. he seemed completely unaware that his thumb, while he spoke, was tracing lazy, distracting patterns on your skin, each touch sending tiny electric shocks through you. he was so close, you could see the faint stubble along his jawline, the way his lashes framed his eyes.

you startle when his touch falters. “sorry, love,” he murmurs once again, returning to your wound, all while you get lost in your thoughts.

jisung is used to have little nicknames like that all the time; it shouldn't have affected you. you'd heard him call other girls that, and it had never bothered you before. but coming from him, directed at you… it was different. it made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn't quite explain. and maybe… maybe he did know his hand was on your leg, and that every so often you startled because his thumb caressed you absentmindedly. maybe he wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. he was certainly good at playing it off, just like he was with all the girls.

jaemin. your hand drowns out the panting you're trying to suppress when he places the cotton ball to stop the bleeding. nevertheless, your face gives you away “i know, i know.” he's gentle, and calm, even though every so often you take your hand out of his reach when it's too unbearable. his voice always comes softly to you. “i know it hurts.” he looks at you, and for a second you forget that it does, because his brown eyes convey tranquility, and more important, don't reveal resentment.

you snort, stressed. “i said horrible things to you.”

he seems pretty unfazed, “you did.”

“then why are you being gentle?” you inquire, troubled and dismayed. “i've never been good to you.”

“should i leave you here? shouldn’t i check on you?” his voice is tint with layers and layers of emotions, emotions you're not able to pick up faster than you'd like.

“the right thing to do would be for you to be mean to me.”

the latter generates a reaction from him. he looks up as if he was slapped, but then soon returns to a calm ocean. “i would never be mean to you.” so deep and complex, he does their job so well, that it is almost imperceptible that he's also good for hiding things.

“take off your jacket.”

he blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but he complies without a word, shrugging it off to reveal the long-sleeved shirt he wore beneath. that’s when you see it. in his arm, in his chest, the space that extends to reach his wrists, the visible part that you'd seen and ignored in your stupidity.

your breath hitches. reaching out, his eyes flickers to yours, a mixture of resignation tint his cheeks, yet he doesn't pull away, he lets you touch it. the cut on his side was slightly deeper than yours, the edges rough and uneven.

it was true that jaemin had gotten into worse fights. he was always hooking up with ramen girls; he was the perfect definition of treacherous, self-centered, and a compulsive liar. you hadn't taken his silence as anything more than pretentiousness. no one was as good as the girls he hooked up with and discarded, but now he comes along, saves you, and gets hurt in the process.

“you're patching me up for a scratch, and you've got this…”

he shrugged, almost sheepishly. “it's nothing,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

“jaemin,” you says with disbelief. “when were you going to tell me?”

all this time you thought that's how he wins them over, how he has planned to take you to bed (the only girl who has rejected him).

but maybe all this time you've been misinterpreting it. you've been judging him wrongly.

your grip on his hand tightens, your fingers hurt but what he says hurts more. “once i finished making sure you were okay.”

chenle. the silence somehow hurt more than the puncture wound on your lip, or your cheekbone, or your broken nose. and having him this close doesn't help at all, it just made you feel more distant. you wanted him to say something, but you were afraid that what he had to say wasn't going to do any good. so you bit your tongue, and it burned less.

he's angry, of course, and maybe a little at you, especially. you've hidden in the bathroom to treat your wounds, and somehow he's come here with you and started doing it himself. the boy who supposedly hates you, who can't stand being this close to you, and who has cared so little about your existence that he has been ignoring you all night. suddenly, he starts to worry about whether you're okay while everyone else laughs at you? it's nothing more than another way to humiliate you.

you wanted to tell him that you weren't forcing him to do anything. yet your eyes tend to linger and follow his gaze until he finally looks at you.

a smile spreads across his lips, and you would find it attractive if it weren't for the fact that he's clearly making fun of you, right to your face, just as he had surely planned all along.

“you’re happy?” you fight so that humiliation does not cloud your gaze, and it’s probably the hardest thing you’ve done after trying so hard to not fall in love with him and still failing.

his fingers brush your chin and his eyes fall on your lips, but you're sure it's nothing to do with the wound. “mmm.” not when his gaze baches you with something that makes you think maybe he wasn't angry with you, maybe he was worried... maybe he does care about you. “nice punch,” he praises you, looking at you before finishing his work and heading for the door.

not leaving without first saying something so quietly that you think you imagined it. “that’s my girl.”

without saying anything, you lean feeling less helpless; cause even though he'd probably keep ignoring you after this, his eyes will always tell you what you need to know.

he's not mad. and he cares.

renjun. your lips tighten in a fine line as the burning in your hand spreads and hurt like hell before your eyes shoot at him, looking like it was on purpose. “you're good?”

you glare at him. it had been just a silly cut that could've been rinsed with water, but renjun saw it first —of course he sees everything first, and alerted the professor. it turned out that the shot had backfired, and he wasn't going to get rid of you that easily, so now you're here being taken care of by him, giving you some victory in your defeat.

the know-it-all renjun wasn't going to get away with it after drawing everyone's attention and making you look like a crybaby. especially not now that you've scared off every girl he's tried to pick up over the last week by asking if he would mind taking care of your wound, like some kind of silent battle that he started.

you had foolishly lost when you realized that now he was revealing himself, making you suffer because he couldn't stop hurting you while he healed you. you weren't going to give him the satisfaction so easily by begging him to be gentler until he filled your cup of patience and tolerance for pain.

“what?”

he must've felt the long, deadly look on him to pronounce “mhm, i don't know let me think,” you say, shrugging, “there's a hole in my hand and i think you want to fill it with alcohol.”

you see him genuinely out of place, before snorting. “you should've told me,” he says, “i thought i was being careful enough.” he takes your hand and brings it to his mouth to blow into the wound so that it burns less, and the most horrible, worst thing, is that you believe him.

mark. you often wonder why everyone wants to be friends with mark lee.

until it hits you.

you and mark get along with each other. it's a coincidence that he's always where you are, stuck headfirst in his notebook, and staring at his phone from time to time, as if expecting to receive a message that never arrives. when he's not alone at the next table, he's always surrounded by people. they can't help it; he has become a sun.

“i’m almost done.” he's focused on the scratch on your knee; the pe teacher has asked someone to take you to the nurse's office even though you could have walked there yourself, and mark has volunteered. not only that, he's taken you piggyback all the way there.

so, yes, you think you know why everyone wants to be his friend.

“does it sting?” he asks, pulling apart from you to read the precautions of the bottle with his mouth slightly half-open in concentration when your senses mess up and you gasp accidently.

“uh…”

the worst part was over, of course. it had hurt at first, with alcohol, now that it was done, it shouldn't hurt..., you should have told him that you were feeling better and that you'd had enough alcohol for one year, but you think you got a little carried away, and stopping now would be embarrassing… right?

“you must still have a concussion, because of the fall. here.” you let him help you get off the infirmary chair but along the way, and because you’re nervous all of a sudden by the way his eyebrows gather in concern, and his tongue poke the inside of his cheeks, you end up giving each other a forehead bump.

mark 。everyone could probably see it in your eyes, in the way you look at him, in your smile every time you hear his name, in the way your face lit up when you see him, you are in love with him. and the way his voice changes when he says your name, how he brings your name in every conversation, how he cares about your opinion the most, everyone could see he is in love with you, except you. 

well no, you could see it, in his handwritten notes with doodling hearts at the bottom, in the photos he sends you throughout the day, every single day, photos of him, of things that reminded him of you, of things he found funny, in the way he includes you in his day every time he’s away, in the way he understand how important is for you to spend time together and invites you to be with him while he makes music, you could see it. 

but you were scared, he knows you better than anyone else, he’s your best friend after all and you can’t bear the thought of losing him. so, you were worried because once he gets to see the real, messy, version of you, will he still love you? you are a clingy, needy, anxious lover and maybe once he gets to deal with it, he won’t want to be with you anymore. 

when you are with mark, you feel at ease, every time he’s around you feel safe. even though he has a crazy life, an insane schedule, barely any time to rest, he makes time for you, he’s always there when you need him, and you don’t want to ruin that. 

you were currently wearing the hoodie he gave you a few nights ago when you were hanging out at his apartment, with mark showing you something over facetime, but you were just staring at your phone screen lost in your own thoughts, ‘ynie. . .’ his voice gets your attention. 

blinking a few times before actually looking at him, ‘umm?’ you hope he hadn’t noticed you weren’t listening to him. 

“what’s in that pretty head of yours, baby?” there he is, toeing over that dangerous line, again. 

you bite your cheek, ‘mark. . .’ you say before you can stop yourself, you hear him make a sound to let you know he is listening, ‘you are my best friend.’

he stares at the screen with his head tilted, pausing whatever he was doing, ‘i know,’ he said after a few seconds. 

it was already past midnight, he is probably tired but you really hope he understands what you were trying to say, ‘i don’t wanna lose you. . . and-’

‘you won’t, yn,’ he smiles at you.

he seems to be sure that it won’t happen but your own mind has already played one hundred scenarios where it does, ‘you could get bored or tired of-. . . maybe i’ll be too much and i. . . overthink, yo-. . .’

he interrupts you, ‘baby,’ the way his voice sounds when he’s saying that petname to you makes your brain short-circuit, ‘i’m never getting bored, we could do nothing all day and i’ll be happy. . . too much? hell yea, be too much, be everything, i want all. . . you overthink? whatever i’ll over explain then-. . . wait, i don’t want to do this over the phone. . . can i come over?’

to learn how to love mark, you need to unlearn how to imagine every good thing with a bad ending.

renjun 。‘he’s my person’ and he has been for quite a long time now, he knows every part of you, your vulnerable side, your annoying side, your angry side. . . even the side of you that you dislike. he is the only person with whom you have totally opened your heart.

everyone knew in the way you talk about each other, that there was something more, something there waiting to be explored. everyone would laugh and shake their heads when they heard the ‘we are just friends’ leaving past his lips, his answer for every time someone would ask about the two of you.

were you really ‘just friends’? it was hard to believe because friends don’t steal ‘secret’ glances at each other, friends don’t get jealous when the other talks about someone else, friends' hugs don’t last a little longer than they should, and friends don’t have a customised bracelet with their carved initials intertwined.

a small, tiny, part of you believes that maybe he’s too good for you, making you feel like you don’t deserve his love. you fear that your relationship with him is not going to change, that the both of you are just going to be ‘secretly’ in love with each other, pretend that neither of you know, and just leave it like that. 

one of the many things you love about him, is how he’s the best listener you know, how he’s always interested in everything you say, even if you are saying the most stupid thing he has ever heard of. he is your person, you don’t have to be afraid of disagreeing with him in something, you can always share what you think without the fear of being humiliated, wrong, or ignored. 

when you are feeling upset about something you feel is ridiculous for some reason, you tend to avoid any serious talk about it, mostly because you aren’t exactly someone who understands your own emotions. you sigh as you send the ‘good night’ message, you wish he could read your mind, he could understand how much the ‘we are just friends’ affected you this time. 

you know being upset over something neither of you have talk about is dumb, as you wiped away a tear that escaped your eye, you read his immediate response, ‘no, we don’t do that’ you stared at his message for few seconds, frowning, as your finger moved over the screen, typing a ‘do what.’ 

you didn’t close his chat, seeing as there were those three dots on the screen, ‘we don’t go to bed upset’ you took a deep breath, debating if was time to finally address the elephant in the room, ‘tell me what i did so i can apologise’  you shook your head, staring a the last message a little longer. 

‘it’s nothing, never mind’ you were confused, he could answer with an ‘okay’ or something, instead he was leaving you on seen, you frowned at the screen, waiting to see those three dots but no. 

you put your phone on your nightstand, standing from your bed to wash your face before actually going to sleep, when a gentle knock on your door startled you. it was already late at night, so to open the door to a very out of breath, in his practice clothes, standing in front of your door, was indeed a surprise, ‘it’s not nothing if you are upset with me, yn.’

to learn how to love renjun, you need to unlearn how to shut down everything when you are hurt.

jeno 。jeno’s eyes are the definition of ‘they say a look is worth a thousand words’ everyone saw it in the way his eyes would linger a little more on you than in the other people in the room, how his pupils dilate when you look back at him, the way he looks at you it’s like you are the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

and they could probably see it in your eyes too, along with a tiny bit of fear, you were actually terrified by the thought of seeing him walk away at any moment. 

you are used to being alone, it’s been quite a long time now, and you feel like it’s very comfortable to be on your own. every time someone tries to get closer to you, or tries to form some kind of meaningful connection with you, you tend to withdraw. 

but for some reason with him, it was different, he has been scaling the high walls you have built around your heart for too long now. 

you hate when someone takes a candid picture of you, you never look good on those, except in the ones that he takes, you hate when someone else plays with your hair, but you don’t seem to have a problem when it’s him, you hate to rely on others or even have others rely on you, when it’s him, it’s okay. 

hugs, you are fine with hugs, pats on the back, touching your hand, as long as it's him and no one else. still, you decided to never act on those feelings, he’s your friend, and you are scared he will end up hating you. 

that’s what you are used to, that’s what you have been told you do, and that’s exactly what you want to prevent, you don’t want him to hate you for being ‘too independent’, for preferring to manage things on your own without asking for help, tolerate things just because you can deal with it, for not letting him protect you.

a part of you disagrees with that, you shouldn’t be thinking that low of him, he’s always been patient with you, why should a relationship be any different than a friendship? 

‘let’s go out together, just you and me’ he had texted you earlier today, it wasn’t weird for him to invite you to hang out, on the other hand ‘go out’ was. he could be recognised anywhere, and you weren’t going to let him risk like that, that’s why you were sitting by his side on the rooftop of your apartment building, you were sitting by his side, fiddling with the paper flowers he had given you, while fighting the urge to shiver.

his voice makes you turn to look at him, ‘are you cold? here take m-. . .’ before he could finish his sentence, your hand already flew to his shoulder, stopping him from taking his jacket off.

‘it’s okay,’ you say, shaking your head with a smile on your face.

you hear him huff, ‘but-. . . why you never take my jacket?’ 

you let a breathy laugh escape past your lips as you see his are in an adorable pout, ‘jeno, if you are wearing a jacket it is because you are cold.’

‘no,’ he shakes his head, taking off his jacket, ‘i wear it, just in case you need it,’ you open you mouth to say something as he puts the jacket around your shoulders, ‘you know. . .’ he mutters while making you face him, fixing the jacket properly so i can actually cover you, ‘it’s okay to accept it, if i’m offering-. . . it’s be-. . . i know you can deal with everything on your own but. . . i als- want to let you know i’m here for you.’ 

to learn how to love jeno, you need to unlearn how to put on a mask and pretend you can do everything alone. 

haechan 。with your brow furrowed, tilted head and a huff leaving past your lips, that’s your reaction every time anyone insinuates there is something more than a friendship between the two of you. 

you believe that your friendship with him is very normal, you treat him like any other friend, every time you are together you would tease each other, you would play hit each other, call each other names, you would bully him for being too clingy, too loud, too sweet. 

and yes, on the surface it was very normal, but everyone noticed the little things you try to ignore, how you let him be clingy with you, touching you, hugging you, holding your hand, kissing your cheeks, you don’t let your other friends do that. how it is harder for you to let anyone know you, but it took him least than a year to be closer to you despite you being so opposed to the idea.

it was easier for him, or so they think, because the second you felt that he was making your heartbeat go faster, you knew it was the moment to leave. missing him while he was away, thinking about what he was doing, feeling, thinking, all the time, wanting to talk to him every day. but it wasn’t until you started to notice small things like him being more attentive lately, how he was doing his best to spend more time with you before leaving for months, trying to do anything in your company, or just talking, he was happy either way, and you knew he feels the same as you.

but the second he started to send you ‘i miss you’ ‘wish you were here’ ‘if you were here we would. . .’ every day, more than once a day, and also started to show his jealousy when you asked about his friends, and using every petname existing not to bother you like you used to do, yes the second you noticed that, you decided it was time to leave.

you couldn’t understand why was he having those feelings towards you, does he like emotionally unavailable pretty smart girls or there is something wrong with him. you are having a hard time wrapping your head around it, you don’t think you deserve to be loved at all, and by him? that’s song impossible.

maybe he liked the gifts you have given him too much, like the bracelet he wears everyday since you gave it to him, or maybe it was the cookies you bake for him every time you know he’s having a bad day, and that sounds reasonable, you are going to stop doing that.

you walk to the door, your eyes half opened, as you rubbed your face, another gently knocking could be heard as you got closer to open it. ‘hi,’ the sound of his voice, makes you stop completely, blinking a couple of times, ‘i know you missed me, no need to anymore,’ he pats your head, as you take in the scene in front of you.

he’s standing there, wearing his airport clothes, his black glasses, his suitcases, and his smile, his sight in front of you make your heart sink, ‘what are you doing here?’

he steps closer, squeezing your cheeks, ‘i wanted to see you,’ he says softly as he moves you so he can enter your house, ‘i-. . . know it’s three in the morning and you were asleep but it’s been five long months and. . . i wanted to see you.’

‘well, you did. . . now, go to your house,’ you say, pointing to the door.

he tilts his head, taking a deep breath, ‘are you mad because i woke you up? sorry-. . .’

you shake your hand, interrupting him, ‘yea, whatever, donghyuck, i’m tired, go home.’

‘yea whatever no, you have been treating me like that for the past two weeks. . . somethings wrong? did i do something? i thought it was because you- maybe you where having some sort of bad days or whatever,’ he was talking fast, but he was still keeping his soft voice tone, ‘but you are like pushing me away an-. . .’

you interrupt him quickly, ‘yes, i know, i push people away, it’s just how i am, and you know that too.’

he shakes his head, stepping in front of you, ‘oh hell no, you can reject my feelings if you want to,’ he says pointing at you, ‘but we are friends, there won’t be pushing me away, i’ll glue myself to you, we are in this together.’

to learn how to love donghyuck, you need to unlearn how to run when it feels right.

jaemin 。for you, he is the living definition of the ‘sun’, only one second in his company is enough to brighten your day significantly. 

he’s perfect, or well, the closest a person can be to ‘perfect’, his eyes and how they look at you, your smile and how it's radiant when it’s for you, how he’s smart and doesn’t need it to rub it on other’s faces, how he’s so funny without even trying, and you could go on for hours talking about how good he is. 

everyone can tell, he’s the happiest when you are around, and that he might be in love with you. he doesn’t even try to deny it, he’s always talking about you, making something for you or being with you. 

and, you are so different when he’s present, being genuinely happy without any worry in your mind, always laughing at his jokes (even if they are not funny), feeling the safest around him, allowing yourself to be you without the fear of being judged. 

you really wanted to be more than friends, you really did, but you were also really scared of becoming too needy. he’s your best friend, he already knows how clingy and needy you are, and you know he will always say the right words when you need to hear them, but it was different. 

you turn around, looking for a comfortable position to fall asleep, it didn’t matter though, your own mind was the one keeping you awake, ‘jaem. . . are you awake?’ you whisper, scared you might wake him up.  

‘yes,’ he answers, whispering too, ‘something wrong, princess?’ your lips turned into a smile the second he said that nickname. 

you shake your head, as if to push the thoughts out of your mind, ‘you. . . ever think i’m too needy?’ 

he sits up from his spot on the floor, ‘what makes you think that?’ he looks to the bed, only for you to be lying down looking at the ceiling, ‘everyone it’s needy, yn.’ 

you sigh, ‘but i’m too needy?’ you were scared that a small part of him thought so too, that he was tired of you always asking him things like am i pretty, am i smart, am i talented, am i enough, you were scared that one day he will stop liking you, and that would make you stop liking yourself too.

‘no,’ he quickly said, ‘you are not too needy. . . it’s normal to think that though. . .’

‘but like. . . you came here at one in the morning just because. . . i was scared and didn’t want to sleep alone,’ you let out a breathy laugh, ‘and you are sleeping on the floor, and i always ask you things and. . . sorry, it’s just that i got anxious. . . i needed validation and-. . .’

 he interrupts you, ‘no, i am here, because i wanted to be here,’ he says as he lays down again, ‘i always want to be with you. . . and it’s okay, i can answer every single one of your questions but-. . . you need to believe it and. . . say it yourself, not just. . . hear it from me‘

to learn how to love jaemin, you need to unlearn how to only see yourself from someone else’s eyes.

chenle 。being friends with him is the easiest thing in the world, how could you not be friends with someone so reliable, you feel comfortable with him, trust him, love him.

you love him in a way you shouldn’t, you are supposed to be just ‘best friends’ and having other feelings towards him doesn’t feel right. he’s caring, supportive, loving, and losing him would be the biggest mistake you could ever make, you would never forgive yourself for that. 

but it was impossible for you to not fall in love with him, when he was always attentive, knows everything you want, gets you everything you want even when you told him it’s not necessary, takes care of you all the time, is always there when you need him. the ‘text me when you get home’ texts, opening doors for you, giving you thoughtful gifts, making an effort to be with you even when he’s busy, who wouldn’t fall for that?

and the fact that he’s your best friend, makes all of this even more scary, you would miss him all the time not only as your lover, but as your friend, and what if it doesn’t work out? you can’t hate him because he’s your best friend.

there’s also something that bothers you even more, how do you make the same mistake over and over again in every relationship, even friendships. you want to be in a relationship with him, to be even closer than you are, but old habits die hard, and to be able to trust someone else completely to the point of letting them know when you are having a bad moment, it’s hard. 

you sigh as you sit on the sofa, giving him a smile, ‘what wrong?’ you hear him say as he scoots closer to you.

you frown, ‘wrong?’ a nervous laugh escapes your lips, ‘nothing? i’m fine, what are you on about,’ you shake your head, giving him another smile. 

‘don’t lie to me,’ he sounded very serious, ‘your fake ass smile don’t work,’ the moment your eyes met, you can see the worry in them, ‘talk to me,’ you blink a couple of times before looking away, ‘if. . . you don’t want to talk is okay, i won’t. . . just remember you can tell me anything,’ he reach out for your hand, holding it for a moment, ‘i can- if you want to, hug you, maybe you’ll feel better or. . .’ he squeezes your hand, not letting it go, ‘i’ll just be here with you. . . for when you want to talk’

to learn how to love chenle, you need to unlearn how to keep things to yourself, scared that the other person will be annoyed by you.

jisung 。when he started spending more time on his phone, always texting someone, the smile on his face while doing so, having plans that didn't include them after practice, being ‘busy’ on his day off, no one knew it was you, his best friend, the one for whom he has heart eyes. 

and you, to be honest, you are not used to falling for someone, or at least not this serious. blushing over some stupid compliment that he says, shouldn’t happen, your heart racing every time someone brings him up, shouldn't happen, being nervous around him, shouldn’t happen. the ‘him’ making you feel all those feelings being your best friend, makes you want to disappear and never be found, it makes you feel bad. 

he has a face that was probably made with so much love, his personality makes him stand out even when he’s quiet, he’s so talented with such a pretty voice, and he’s also loved by everybody. that makes everything worse, everyone wants him, there’s no way he can want you.

you know it’s weird, but you don’t want your best friend to like you in that way, you don’t deserve to be loved in a romantic way by him. you fear you might not be exactly what he needs, a calm, good, patient person, who understands the things he’s been through, the life he lives. you don’t even know what type of person you are in a relationship, what if you are too demanding? too anxious, too fearful? too insecure?

spending time with him made you realise, how much you actually need him in your life, it may sound exaggerated but it's not, he’s the only person you think would understand you need to share time with others, talking, doing activities together, doing nothing but being together. 

as of right now, sitting in your bed with him by your side, the tv on but it’s just being used as background noise, ‘so yes, i believe that me falling down the stairs when i was two years old is the reason we met-. . . invisible string,’ you say as you turn to look at him, scrolling through his phone, ‘i. . . i talk a lot, i should go back to watc-. . .’

he laughs, making you stop talking and frown at him, ‘it’s nice,’ he looks at you, making you look away the second you feel a little warm inside, ‘i like hearing your thoughts. . .’ he pats your head, ‘i like you- the. . . invisible string,’ the whispers, but you can hear it and you heart skips a beat. 

what were you thinking when deciding to bring up the invisible string, ‘sung. . . you deserve someone better, someone good,’ you whisper back, trying to put all your attention to the tv.

‘yn,’ his voice barely could be heard, ‘you are good. . . even if you don’t believe it,’ he pats your head again, making you look at him, ‘would yo- you let me. . . say it to you until you believe it?’

My dearest Renjun,

I hope you had a wonderful day! I heard you have an exam today. Don’t forget to eat on time, okay? Here’s some brownies, I know you love them xoxo

-y/n

You clicked your pen after writing the letter, spraying a bit of your perfume on the note. You put it nicely on top of the box of brownies before putting it on your bag.

You checked the time, and you nod when it says exactly 7am.

“Seriously, a handwritten letter? You’re crazy,” your roommate, Julie, sassed at your small box of sweets.

You tighten your shoe laces, before turning around to get your bag. You smiled at Julie, “It’s a habit,” You hear her scoff, but before she argues again, you are fast on your feet. 

As soon as you entered the school premises, you were greeted by some of the freshmen, waving at you. You of course, waved back and gave them a good morning back. It was nice to greet people, even if you don’t know them. You don’t know when a simple greeting could make someone’s day. It sure makes your day better at least.

You’re supposed to go left at the gym because you have practice at 7:30 sharp and you’ve used up all your chances to be late. However, if you run fast enough, you’re sure you’ll get there in time. 

“Hey, y/n! Be careful!” One student says as you run through the hallway. You still manage to respond with a smile. 

You look at your watch, and you silently curse. 7:15.

Once you made it at the school garden, you hover your eyes at the entire field and sure enough, you see who you’ve been looking for. 

There he was. He sat with his three other friends, which you knew of. Usually, it’s only him and Jeno, but this time, there’s Jaemin and Haechan with him at the picnic table. Haechan slumped in the table, Jaemin mindlessly watching something on his phone and Jeno, along with Renjun, seemingly studying for their upcoming exam.

You put on your best smile, and dust off your cheer uniform. 

Once you reach their table, you clear your throat. It was Jaemin who granted you attention first, and as soon as he looked at you, his smile beamed brighter than the sun. He’s good at that, a charmer, really. Too bad it doesn’t affect you in any way.

“Renjun, someone’s here for you,” He says through his smile and nudging Renjun.

You hear the boy grunt, and let out an exasperated sigh. Finally, he turns to you, and even if you swore you had a big smile, seeing him made it even bigger.

“Hi, Renjun! Uh,” you waved at him, and then brought the box of brownies out your bag, glad to see it's still in pristine condition. “--I brought brownies.. For you and your friends,” 

That’s when Jeno and Haechan, who suddenly woke up from his sleep, looked up at you.

Renjun rubs his forehead, and sighed again. He puts down his pen that he was holding from earlier. “Y/n, I told you, stop making these for me.” 

You gulp in nervousness. “Do.. do you not like them?” you can’t help sound dismayed, with the end of your sentence getting quieter.

“I like brownies. I just don’t like when it comes from you. Don’t you get that?” 

Honestly, you were expecting this. Renjun was always harsh, however, you like to think he’s just brutally honest. But you would be lying if you say that it doesn’t sting.

“Oh-kay,”  Jaemin joins the conversation, attempting to dilute the tension. Your smile falters for a second but you try your best to smile again. Jaemin continues, “Sorry, birdie, he’s just extra grumpy today ‘cause of the big exam later.. I’ll get that,” he grabs the brownies out of your hold. 

You whisper a small thank you to Jaemin. “Renjun, if you change your mind, I guess Jaemin has the brownies..” you still tried to sound cheerful.

Renjun, however, didn’t say anything. 

“I’ll shove it down his throat if I have to. Go on now, Birdie, I heard you guys have cheer practice at 7:30.” Jaemin answers for him again, sweet as ever. 

That piqued your interest. You raised your brows, “How’d you know?” 

“I have a friend in your squad. Now, shoo! Don’t wanna be late! Renjun says fighting!”  He grabs Renjun’s hand and waved it forcefully, but Renjun just pulls away from his hold.

“Okay. Uh, bye everybody! Bye, Renjun.” Your eyes glanced at him with hope, but came to no avail when he just continued reading his book. Jeno waved a little bit and Haechan just gave you a fake smile. Haechan, for reasons unbeknownst to you, doesn’t seem to like you either. But you don’t dwell on it too much because frankly, you don’t care.

Jaemin smiles, waving at you. You turn your heels and start to run. You have two minutes to get to the gymnasium. It was worth it tho, you like to start your day seeing him. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

After a few hours of practice, you were dismissed due to the classes you have later on the day.

“Why were you late this morning?” Sunghoon, one of your spotters on the squad, asks as you walk to your class.

You didn’t have a chance to answer, when Minnie spoke. “Duh, she did her daily rejection therapy, of course.” 

You shook your head and chuckled at her. “It’s not rejection therapy, Minnie.” 

“Oh please, Huang Renjun could literally stomp at your feet and you’ll still show up with freshly baked cookies the next day.” Minnie was annoyed more than anything, but you still smile at her. You know she means well.

You chose not to answer because really, what’s there to say? Minnie might sound mean, but she’s just telling the truth. 

Huang Renjun has rejected you more times than you can remember. Honestly, you think you’re immune to it now. Sometimes, you find it really interesting that he just won’t budge, at all. He hates your guts, but as long as he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he doesn’t verbally say to your face that he hates you, technically, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing.

Much more women do worse, actually. Renjun’s really popular with women, despite the attitude and sass he possessed. Some girls are intrigued, curious as to how they could get with Renjun. Going further as to literally kneeling in front of him just to sleep with him. Poor Kim Chaeyon.

You’re not at that level of extremities yet, thank god.

Although he was picky, he did kind of have a fair share of girls. Some students call the girls he’s been with the chosen ones, making you laugh. Renjun has a standard, and he likes to abide by it.

Unlike his friends, Renjun can count in his fingers how many girls he was with. And boy, were they special.

Renjun is picky. He’s not someone you can just get together with just because you’re pretty. His standards are sky high, but hey, they don’t call you Birdie for no reason. 

“I don’t get why you keep on pursuing Renjun, to be honest. Yeah, I heard he’s hot shit, but come on. You’re Y/n. NCU Cheersquad Captain, Thee Bird, and not to mention, a Mathematics Olympiad runner up. You’re like.. Einstein’s hot little sister.” Minnie didn’t stop, even after class she blabbered about your undying admiration for Renjun, claiming it doesn’t make sense to her.

It doesn’t really matter how many times Minnie likes to remind you that Renjun isn't worth your time, your answer stays the same.

“I just like him. It doesn’t have to make sense to you, Minnie.” You say casually as you bite into your apple.

“Ugh! You’re insufferable,” She says before standing up and stomping her way out. You just laughed at her reaction. Minnie’s easily pissed, and it amuses you.

It’s past five when you finished your day, ready to head back to your apartment. Your routine was consistent, it sometimes just differs depending on your practice and classes. You never really enjoyed going out with your friends, not a party-goer, and most especially, you’re not really amused by other boys, much to your friend’s dismay.

There have been attempts, here and there, of trying to pursue you. You just don’t feel like giving  attention to any of them, when you already set your eyes on someone. It feels like a waste of time. 

When you enter your dorm, you see Julie, all dressed up and ready to go out. You eye her up and down and give her a smile. “Going on a date?”

“Yeah, uh,” You notice she’s struggling to clasp her bracelet, so you try and help her with it. 

“That dress looks cute on you,” you compliment her. 

Julie never really dresses up for dates, well, at least you don’t see her getting this dolled up for a date. You have always questioned that, because she’s always out on dates and she looks good in dresses as well. But hey, each to their own. 

“Thanks, y/n.” She replies with a forced smile, but you assumed it’s because she’s nervous. 

You walk inside further, leaving her in the doorway putting her shoes. “Hey, don’t forget your keys.” You remind her.

“Uhm, I think I won’t need them.” Your smirk got even wider at her response, understanding exactly what she meant. 

“You go, girl. Enjoy your date.” You giggled before you entered your room. 

You sigh as soon as your back hits the soft mattress, relieved that you’re now in the comfort of your own home. You don’t let your eyes rest for more than three minutes because you have papers to finish tonight and you don’t intend to accidentally pass out earlier than what you’ve planned.

You did your basic night routine, ready to turn on netflix before drowning yourself in papers.

Your last step was to put your phone on Do Not Disturb, but before that, you shoot a text to the one who matters to you the most. 

[8:01] to: renjun <3 

just got home! i hope u ate some of the brownies from earlier, it’s really good! enjoy your night and see you tomorrow, renjunnie! 

xoxo -y/n

[9:05 read]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Just go talk to him, y/n. Get your mind off that Renjun boy.” You roll your eyes at Minnie who nudges you. 

You don’t know why people even attempt to ask you out. You’ve made it clear that you only have eyes for Renjun, and the fact that you never went out with anyone should’ve made it obvious. Do you have to write it across your forehead? 

Sungchan’s nice. Really tall, not bad with the eyes either, and from what you’ve heard he’s a real sweetheart. Not a bad bone on his body. A perfect man, maybe, but not for you. Nobody really is for you unless it’s... well, you get it.

“Listen, atleast I tried, right?” He snickers, but you can tell it’s unenthusiastic. 

“I’m sorry, Sungchan.” 

“Should’ve listened to Jeno,” He whispers, one you can’t make out but you didn’t push. He then bids you goodbye, but before leaving, he asks you if you two could be friends. 

“Of course, we can be friends, Sungchan.” You’re glad he offered to be one, at least you don’t turn him down in every possible way. There’s still something there. 

He smiles at you again and now fully walks away. You also stood up and turned around, but when you do, you see Renjun, on the sidelines talking to Jeno and Yangyang.

Speak of the Angel.

You widen your eyes in great surprise, smiling ear to ear as you see him, hands folded in his chest. Seeing him instantly brightens your mood— even looking like the most intimidating person ever.

You silently run back, putting an extra hop in every step. You stop where Renjun is, and waved at him.

“Good morning,” you smile at him. You always give your best smile towards him, and not that you put an extra effort to, but he just brings it out of you. A magic pull, in some ways.

He takes a deep breath, “Morning,” he muttered, not even sparing you a glance before going back to whatever they were talking about.

You don’t know why, but you still stood there. You’re waiting for something, but you don’t exactly know what it is. Maybe, it’s just an excuse to look at him longer.

“What time is your lunch? Wanna grab lunch later?” You ask and you hear Jeno snorts on his side..

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, do you mind?” Renjun says, again with his usual cold tone towards you. In some twisted way, it made your chest flutter.

“You’re really cute,” you say, making both Jeno and Yangyang laugh. You don’t know what they find so funny. You’re just telling the truth. Renjun’s cute when he gets grumpy. Tho, sometimes you wish it’s not directly at you.

Renjun closes his eyes in frustration and grunts, you can tell there’s another strong statement that’s boiling in his mind. Before he could though, you heard Minnie’s voice from afar.

“Birdie! Practice back on!” 

“Oh, gotta go. Bye Renjun!” You say in your most cheerful voice, throwing him a wink before running back to your squad.

You giggle as you run through the field. You got to talk to Renjun! 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today, you’re opening auditions for the squad, to prepare for the upcoming cheerdance. 

Pulling up your phone to track the time, 6:54am. 

You carefully place the cupcake on the box, getting rid of your pink mittens and finally, a perfectly tied bow to finish it off. 

A glimmer of a smile appears on your face as you admire the box.

Packing it safely, you made your way out of your apartment, looking at your wrist watch, 8:32am.

"Just on time." You whispered to yourself.

"Hi, y/n!" A junior student greeted you as you passed by, which you bowed back. "Hello!"

"Good morning, y/n." You waved back to another student.

Finally, reaching up to the fourth floor, you strutted yourself to the empty hallways until you reached the abandoned elementary library. 

"Do Not Entry" It says on the door.

Knocking three times, finally, someone opened.

"Oh, hi, y/n-ie. I'm guessing this is for Renjun?" Jaemin, with his sweet smile, asked as his eyes fixed on the box you were holding.

"Hi, Jaemin. Yeah. Is he here yet?" You tried looking pass Jaemin,into the room, but to no avail, as he was literally blocking everything inside.

"No but I'll make sure he got this, alright?" Jaemin grabbed the lunchbox from you, not missing the opportunity to wink at you.

"Oh. I guess he's late. Okay, Jaemin. Thanks." Disappointed that you didn't get to see your Renjun, you turned around bitterly.

You decided to just get to your first class early. Only a few people was in the room, because its quite early for the class to start. You crossed your arms over the desk and rest your head. 

You're sure Renjun's just running late. Biting your lip, 

You pulled out your phone, texting Renjun. 

[9:01am] to: renjun

hi goodmorning! i brought u a cupcakes today. are u running late? be safe! xoxo -y/n

You didn’t see him the entire day, and even though you tried to focus on other things, your day didn’t seem complete without seeing his face. But you didn’t let it ruin your day, of course. You’re sure tomorrow, you’ll get to see him again. 

You hop your way back to your apartment, with your laptop bag on hand. It’s getting chilly, you notice. You thought about what you’ll eat for dinner when you exit the elevator.

You were about to take a step out, when you see someone in front of your apartment, hugging whom you assume is your roommate.

You can’t be mistaken. You’re sure it was Renjun. You can never mistake him for someone else.

Renjun’s hugging Julie, before smiling at her and letting her enter the apartment. 

Your lips fall ajar, baffled at what you saw. Your clutch in your bag tightens, and you feel sick. Renjun and Julie? Since when?

You immediately step back into the elevator, pushing the button desperately, just to get it to close. You don’t know if you can look Renjun in the eyes, at least not right now. 

When it slowly closes, you still stand there frozen. In a split second, in the tiny gap of the elevator, you see his face. And there, you see the shock on his eyes. But before anything else happens, the elevator closes.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

That night, you slept at Minnie’s apartment. You were lucky that her roommate’s nice enough to let you, although Minnie says that you don’t ever need any permission to sleep over at hers. You smiled at the thought that at least, you have Minnie.

It was rough, to say the least. You weren't a stranger to heartbreak, especially when it comes to Renjun. You’ve literally liked him for so long, and you’ve witnessed him with girls before. This one’s just special because it’s your roommate. It’s Julie, for christ sake. 

She witnessed your Renjun shenanigans for months. She would even laugh at you for waking up early just to prepare food for Renjun. God, you sure looked stupid. 

Despite Minnie’s disapproval, you still sent a text to Julie, informing her that you wouldn’t be going home tonight. You still apologize for making her wait, if she ever did wait for you. You never received a reply back, but she’s just probably asleep by now.

The next morning was tough. You don’t know if you should still bring snacks to Renjun, maybe you should respect his relationship with Julie. So you didn’t. 

You went to the campus half asleep, Minnie offering to buy you a drink from the cafe. You seriously can’t thank her enough.

Sunghoon was the first one to greet you at the gymnasium. 

“Hey, captain!” He waves, completely oblivious to your bad mood. However, you still waved back and gave him a smile.

“How many are auditioning?” You ask as you sit in one of the chairs that's laid out.

“Thirty? I don’t know, but I recall seeing your roommate on the list tho? You never told me that your roommate’s interested in Cheerleading?” 

You froze. Julie’s auditioning? You might just pull your hair out. You really cannot catch a break, huh?

You scan the paper he held out, and much to your dismay, her name’s listed. Han Julie. 

You mentally curse at yourself. 

And in some effed’ up timing, you hear a couple of steps coming in the gymnasium. You assumed it was your other teammates, or one of the students that's auditioning, but you were dead wrong.

Sunghoon stood up, looking at your back since you’re seated facing back at the hall. 

“Oh? Renjun, Haechan and Jaemin’s here.” He says in a casual tone, you, on the other hand, just wanted the floor to eat you alive. There’s no way this is happening to you right now.

“Can you deal with them for a bit? I have a headache,” You rub your temples to up your acting, Sunghoon obediently nodding and walking towards them.

But before you can even catch a breather, Sunghoon returns. 

“They want to talk to the captain, Birdie,” He says carefully, afraid to piss you off. But you can never be pissed off, silly Sunghoon.

You smiled, and stood up. You start walking towards the three men who stands out like a sore thumb, with Haechan’s leather jacket and Jaemin’s baggy ripped jeans. Renjun, still looks like an angel, and in your eyes, he fits wherever he goes.

“Hey, hi. You guys need something?” You ask, in your usual tone. Avoiding looking at Renjun because you know you can’t help but to melt in his stare.

“Hi, birdie. Actually,” Jaemin smiled, grabbing Renjun’s shoulder and pushing him slightly towards you. “--Renjun here, just dragged us here. Apparently, he wants to talk to you!” He wiggles his brows excitedly.

“Oh?” You act surprised, now looking at Renjun because you literally have no choice.

“You want us to give you some space or—” Before Jaemin could even finish, Renjun interrupted him, grabbing at his friend’s forearms, to avoid him leaving. 

“No, this’ll be quick,” His tone was cold, nothing new to you. 

Haechan, on the other side of him, just looks bored. Honestly, he looks like he just woke up. But when he saw the other cheerleaders walk in, his body jolted. Typical. 

“Listen, y/n.. uh,” Renjun clears his throat, “My friend.. Julie is auditioning. I just want to let you know that she’s really good at cheer and I want you to really consider letting her in the team.”

His friend? Oh, you want to throw up. He’s sick. He’s really… ah, he’s really done it now. You didn’t know Renjun could ever ruin your day, but wow.. He just did.

“Wait, what the fuck?” You hear Jaemin curse beside him, Haechan just letting out a laugh. You wanted to burst out in anger and bash his head in concrete, but that’s not very nice.

You decide that you can’t handle this kind of conversation at 9 in the freakin’ morning. 

“Renjun, I would love to let her in the team, but she really needs to pass the auditions first. I’m not the only one who decides if a someone gets in. I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t say anything, but let out a deep sigh. “Alright, I know she’ll pass the audition. Anyways, we’ll watch…” 

You nod, not having the energy to keep up with him. You immediately turn your heels and you walk away. Yeah, this will be a long day.

Surprisingly, there’s a lot of people who showed up for the auditions. Apparently, some had an info that Haechan, Jaemin, Jeno and Renjun are watching, (Jeno showing up half an hour after the other three arrived) and that’s when a wave of students came in. 

You didn’t let your sour mood ruin your judgment, so you put on your big girl pants, and watched every audition in full professional mode. You don’t want to sabotage the team, by letting just about anyone join just because you’re not in the mood.

They were good, you have to point out some hopefuls that didn’t fit the criteria, in the nicest way you could. However, Minnie took her role as your ‘anger translator’ seriously.

“Are you sure you know what you were auditioning for?” 

“Oh honey, you’re really good! You should really try to be a singer.” 

Or sometimes, just cutting off the music mid-performance. Of course, you scolded her for that and let the girl continue, but there’s just no coming back from that.

“Babe, I’m sure you can work on your cartwheels a little bit better. If I’m still here by next year, just call me out and I’ll for sure get you in the team. But for now, you can practice, okay? You can even call me for guidance, okay?” You say softly at Sofia, after her performance. She just nods eagerly, but you can tell she was about to cry.

You really want to go up there and hug her, but you can’t because you’d have to do that with every single one you reject.

This is why you hate auditions.

You were still arranging the papers at your table, anticipating the next person when you heard Minnie curse.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

You whip your head up, seeing Julie walk up on the stage.

As soon as she stood in front, you knew she had knowledge in cheerleading. Her stance says it all.

She started the performance, and even if you want her to be bad, she isn’t. She’s really good, and it annoys you so much. God, why does she have to be good?

The routine she did wasn’t easy either, and she nailed it to the ground. Some of your team was actually impressed, and you can’t lie and say you weren’t. That back handspring was perfect, to say the least.

“You guys know that we judge not only with skills, but with personality and attitude as well, right?” Minnie just sounded eerily like a mean girl, saying it to your team but also loud enough for Julie to hear. 

You silently nudged her, earning a whine from Minnie but you looked at Julie instead, giving her a smile.

You don’t know what to say, to be honest. Your cheerleading captain side of you, says that this girl is perfect for the team. But the y/n part of you wants nothing to do with her. 

You roam your eyes across the bleachers and like a magnet, your eyes swiftly went to him. Surprisingly, he’s also looking at you. Or at your direction, at least. 

His elbows are in his knees, his entire upper body leaning his height on his elbows. He looks to be anticipating your answer, because at the end of the day, what you say goes.

You took one final breath before tapping your pen. You look up at Julie, and finally, giving her a wide smile.

“Welcome to the team.”

A mix of cheers, clapping and a curse from Minnie fills your ears. You look up, back at Renjun, seeing him smiling and clapping his hands as well. You look down, ignoring the ache you’ve got going on in your chest.

You hope you won’t regret this decision. You really hope so. 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“That’s fucked up, you know. That’s really fucked up,” Jaemin won’t stop bitching up until they got home to their apartment, and Renjun just wants him to stop.

In his head, there’s nothing wrong with what he did. He tried to help a friend, to get a spot she fully deserved. He just did a favor, but it seems to Jaemin that it means he’s a horrible person.

“She passed the audition, Jaem. I didn’t do anything,” Renjun says, stirring his iced americano in hand.

“Yeah but d’you really need to talk to Birdie about it? Like dude, everybody in this world knows that she’s head over heels for you. Then you get in her face talking trying to get some other chic on her team? That’s messed up!” 

“She’s the captain of the cheerleading squad! Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Renjun can’t see where he ‘messed up’. 

Sure, he did have a hint that you were affected with his whole situation about Julie, especially when he saw you at the elevator that night. You looked genuinely hurt, but there’s nothing he could do about it.

He told you many times that he wasn’t interested. He doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just stop seeing other people because of you.

“Man, I say she deserves it.” Haechan joins in the conversation, taking a sip from Renjun’s drink.

Jaemin gives him a disgusted look, “You’re such a hater, Lee Haechan.”

“She deserved to be treated the way Renjun does, especially when she did those things before, right, Renjunnie?” Haechan scoots up into Renjun’s side, leaning his head onto the boy’s shoulder. 

“Come on, that was years ago! You can see she clearly regrets it by now,” Jaemin continued to be at your defense, confusing Renjun as to why because he has never seen you two around each other. Jaemin doesn’t know you like he knows you.

“Do you wanna be with her, Jaem?” Jeno joins in and smirks at Jaemin.

“No! Of course not! I won’t do Renjunnie like that!” Jaemin quickly on the defensive state. 

“I’m literally right here?” He states, reminding his friends of his presence because they seem to talk about him like he wasn’t in the room.

“What I’m saying is, can’t you just put all those things behind you now? I just feel bad for the girl,” 

In Renjun’s head, Jaemin makes a lot of sense. And yeah, Renjun really did tried to forget all of the things that happened in the past. 

He tried to leave it all behind and just completely start fresh. Because really, he’s got way better life now. He basically could have the world now if he wanted to. 

Wouldn’t it be better if he left all his baggage behind?

Unfortunately, all those are all easier said than done. Considering that everytime he looks at you, he’s just reminded of the fact that you made his life miserable for your own gain.

He relates your smiles to all the tears he had way back when he needed you the most.

For everyone else, you were an angel in disguise. To him, you were the devil he once loved.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

Ever since you were ten, you’ve dreamed of being a cheerleader. 

The entire saga of Bring It On was your lifeline as a kid, and every part of that movie is engraved in your mind. Every dialogue, every routine and every single pose in that movie is burned in your brain. 

Ever since then, you knew you’d be a cheerleader.

Whatever it takes.

It was summer, you remember it vividly, sophomore year when you met Renjun. 

Your first meeting didn’t go well, though. You still laugh when you think about it.

It was the first day Renjun moved to your school. The teachers announced a Chinese boy joining the class, and you were excited. 

Then here goes a pale and soft looking boy walking into class, with a pair of glasses and a bag that looks heavier than him. You were dumb, of course, assuming that Renjun would only speak strictly Chinese. 

So you pulled your phone out, and tried searching Chinese words to impress the boy.

You finally chose one and practiced it over and over, and when you decided you were comfortable enough, you approached him.

“See-sow-jian zai na-lee?” 

You tried your best to not sound like an asshole, but you really wanted to strike a conversation with him. He looks at you oddly, blinks a couple of times before he breaks into laughter.

“You’re asking me… where’s the bathroom?” 

You were shocked to hear him speak your language fluently. You furrow your brows before smiling at him, as he keeps on laughing. You found it somewhat cute.

And ever since then, you became friends with Renjun.

He was timid, shy and overall an introvert but you liked that about him. You like that he’s not some cringy highschool boy trying to impress you or other girls. He’s just unapologetically him.

“Wait, what homework!?” You panicked as you try to backtrack your classes from yesterday, remembering if you did in fact had homework that you missed out on.

“Geometry, stupid. Here, copy some of mine,” Renjun pulls his notes out, allowing you to completely copy off of him.

You thanked him furiously as you tried to tweak some of the details off his homework, but ended up copying it as it is. Renjun didn’t complain, he finds you cute when you cram.

The class ended and both of you got a perfect score on your homework, and you got Renjun to thank for that. 

So the following morning, you begged your mother for a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, and packed it carefully with a ribbon on top. This was the only thing you could think of giving him, as a thank you.

“D’you like choco-chip cookie?” You ask, as if you’re just asking a random question. You see him furrowing his brows at your sudden question, but smiles otherwise.

“Yes. I love home baked ones,” He answers, still smiling at you.

You take that chance to grab the pink container on  your bag and give it to him. “Mom baked those,” 

He was speechless at first, looking at the cookies, before looking back at you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “Wow. Thank you, y/n. This is like… the first time I’ve received a gift like this.” 

“Well, buckle up dude. There will be a lot coming from now on.”

You and Renjun became inseparable after that day. Having Renjun by your side swiftly became a norm for you, to a point you’re comfortable in saying that Renjun’s your person. It kind of feels that he was always meant to be with you, and you’re meant to be with him.

You never really found the need to find more friends than him, he just filled that need himself. 

The first bump in your friendship happened three months after that day.

Renjun quickly became the talk of the school, and the longer he settled in, students started to notice just how good looking he actually is. He barely wears his glasses now, and he styled his hair differently. But Renjun never seems to realize the attention he was getting from  it.

You never thought it would affect the friendship you had, when you yourself have been making efforts to make friends other than him. However, your sole reason was to just be familiar with the school, because you’re planning to audition for cheerleading this semester. Renjun was still at the top of your priority, you still think of him as your best friend. 

You were waiting at the library for him, this has been your daily routine since you’ve been friends. At first, you thought you were just early, or maybe there has been a change with his schedule so you just thought he’d be late.

But the library alerting you that they’ll close in five minutes snaps you from that thought. 

You got hurt, yes, but not too much where you had to ask him to apologize. Naturally, you just gave him the benefit of a doubt and think that he just maybe forgot. He did apologize the morning after, and you just kind of forgave him after that. 

However, when it happened for the second time, that’s when you question if he really just forgot or he just never really wanted to hang out with you anymore. 

It sucks, sure, and you wish you didn’t attach yourself to him as much as you did, but you were never a confrontational person so again, you just let it happen. This time, you don’t make an effort in hanging out with him, and actually try to avoid him. 

On the evil part of your brain, you thought that maybe, you were just a stepping stone for him to climb up the status quo, and now that he was popular, he doesn’t find any real use to be your friend anymore. 

You hate to think about that, because the guilt of even thinking bad about someone as nice as Renjun eats you up inside. 

You focused on your own, starting to work on your goals solely and completely stopped hanging out with him. It seems like he has found a new friend circle, and you assumed that’s just how it ends. 

You sat by yourself in the cafeteria, planning to just ditch lunch for today. You look like a complete loser, and you don’t want to spend more time wallowing in your sorrows alone. Before you could stand up and leave, you saw Renjun walking in, with his friends. 

He was drastically different than the first time you saw him, and it feels like he’s not the same person. But when he laughs at something his friend says, his smile stays the same, reminding you that he’s still somewhat your Renjun. 

You sigh and look away, and on your second attempt at leaving the area, somebody sat across from you.

“Y/n?” He asks, with his brows lifted as if genuinely curious.

“Yeah?” You kind of recognize him, but nothing really pops up in your head.

“Hi, I’m Kim Sunwoo. I’m part of the Cheerleading squad and our captain told me to speak to you.” 

You froze on the spot. That’s where you remember him from! 

You’ve been watching the cheerleaders at the sidelines recently, in hopes to get hints and further knowledge about the team. You were fascinated, of course, because you feel like you’ve always belonged in that team. 

You loved watching them, it’s almost like you’re almost living the life you’ve dreamed of. It feels like you’re on your own Bring It On movie.

Especially when you watch Uchinaga Eri, more known as Giselle, the flyer and the cheer captain. 

She’s really great at what she does, and it motivates you to work even more harder to finally be on the same team as her.

“Y/N, right?” Giselle is now standing in front of you, looking at you like she was judging your form. You felt nervous, of course. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“You sent that audition tape?” She asks again, now looking at you from head to toe. 

“Yes,” You say, although nervous, you managed to stand still. She reminds you of a mean girl, but that’s not always a bad thing. She just reeks of confidence, and you aspire to be that someday.

She smirks, looking back at her co-cheerleaders, and walked backwards, giving you space.

“Okay, then, y/n—” She clears her throat.

“—Front handspring, step out, back handspring, round off back handspring, step out, full twisting layout.”

Your eyes widen at her order, heart stumping off your chest. You’re wearing denim jeans! What the hell were you thinking!

You take a deep breath, before pulling your bag over your shoulder.

This is the moment that could potentially write your future, y/n.

You shake your hands, letting your body loose before walking back to gain your momentum. That routine is a lot, and you’re gonna need a lot of space.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. You’ve practiced this before. You’re just gonna have to put them all together! It’s easy!

Deep breaths.

Okay.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You walk out of the stadium overjoyed, gripping the plastic that was given to you— containing your own cheer uniform. You let yourself shriek quietly in excitement. 

You made it to the team. Torrence Shipman would be proud.

Over your small celebration by yourself, you hear somebody call for your name.

“Y/n.” 

You whip your head over to where it came from, standing there with a bouquet of tulips in his hand, is a face you’ve missed dearly.

“Renjun,” you softly say, not registering that he’s now walking up to you.

He hands you the flowers, and you accept them despite your state of confusion as to why he’s approaching you now. Yellow tulips.

“Do— uhm, do you need something?” You feel that darn butterflies fluttering in your stomach again, as he stands before you.

“No, no. Uhm, I don’t— ah, shit. Okay,” He inhales, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I haven’t hung out with you recently and If you ever felt that I abandoned you, I’m sorry. I was just really scared—“

“I got in,” you say to him, smiling ear to ear.

“—because I was a cow– what?” 

“I got in the cheerleading team!” You yell excitedly, opening your arms to hug him tight. You didn’t care, you’re just so happy right now. What made it better is him, being here.

It takes him a full second to hug you back, burying his face on your neck. “I’m so proud of you.”

And with that, you felt like you won twice today.  

You got a spot on the squad, and you got your Renjun back.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Today

It has been a few weeks after the auditions, and it’s safe to say that you’re not feeling well.

Back-to-back exams, training the new members of the squad and working on side projects for school credit has been killing you these days.

Being a Cheer captain is a heavy weight to carry. You need to succeed in both cheerleading and academics, and the responsibilities sometimes get overwhelming. You never once complained tho, because you wanted this. You needed this. 

Cheer is the only thing that made your life make sense. And well.. Renjun too, of course. So there will be times like this. But you’ll endure it, as you should.

Not to mention the emotional torture of having to see Renjun and Julie all the time, thanks to Julie inviting him over everytime she’s got a chance.

Just like tonight. You were exhausted from all the school activities and you just want the comfort of your bed. So when you finally enter your apartment, to your dismay, you see Haechan, Jaemin, Renjun and Julie snuggled up in the couch of your apartment, watching some movie you didn’t care to look.

Your body is sore, and so is your brain. If you have a choice, you’d take a vacation to anywhere else than your apartment right now. 

And although you already accepted the fact that Renjun and Julie has got something going on between them, it’s still a stab in your chest everytime you see them together.

“Hey, uh, Birdie, I invited them over for a movie night.. I just thought you’d be over at Minnie’s. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” 

You smile at them. “Oh, no. Enjoy your movie. I’m a bit tired so.. I’ll just head in.” You say, not exactly welcoming as you want to be, but you just can’t be energetic as you usually are tonight. 

You see Jaemin waving at you, Haechan not acknowledging your presence as always, and Renjun sparing you half a second glance before focusing back on the movie.

You head straight to the kitchen, hoping to see anything that could fill your stomach. You just need to eat and then pass out for the night. You can’t find time to mend your broken heart, when your entire body feels like convulsing the next minute.

“It’s been two weeks since the last brownie. Finally got tired, huh?”

You look back at whoever’s speaking, and to your unpleasant surprise, it’s just Haechan walking over the kitchen.

“I just got busy, Haechan.” You say, managing to smile at him.

“You and your damn cheerful attitude. Still gonna pretend like you’re the perfect little birdie?” Even tho his voice was quiet, his tone still pierced through you. 

“I’m not quite sure how I should respond to that,” 

“Of course you don’t. You’re always nice. Whoever that bitch that fucked my friend over years ago is long gone, right?” His smirk splattered all over his face makes your eye twitch.

God, you know hate is a strong word to describe an emotion. You’re not one to hate on anybody. But you give yourself a pass, because you just maybe hate Lee Haechan right now.

“Haechan, please. I just want to rest.” You say, closing your eyes frustratedly. 

“Sure. And just so you know, he’s very happy with Julie right now. She treats him better than you— fuck it, she cheers better than you too.” 

He just had to hit you where it hurts the most, doesn’t he?

You wanted to curse at him, real bad. You wanted to yell, scream at him for pete’s sake. Your chest is heaving with animosity, to the point where you want to cry. But you kept your composure, at least until you weren’t in the safety of your own room.

“I understand Renjun is your friend, and you want to protect him. And I also do understand that you don’t know everything that went down between me and him so I’ll just try and ignore everything you say to me. Now, if you excuse me, I’m going to bed.” 

You left Haechan in the kitchen, the growling of your stomach long forgotten. You don’t think you could still have an appetite after that. 

The hunger you feel was overpowered by the tears you want to let out.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

You’re awoken by pounding in your head, nose stuffed and difficulty breathing. You were convulsing. You had a hunch that you’re having a fever before you even went to bed— but chose to ignore it and just sleep on it.

Which you know to be a bad decision now that you’re drowning in your own sweat and tears.

You needed something. Advil— whatever the fuck is available to you. You need to get up.

Dragging your feet and standing up from your bed, you immediately feel like you’re going to faint. This might be the worst fever you’ve gotten so far.

You get your phone to call Minnie, she’s only in the next building. You see that it’s not even 3 hours when you went to bed. There’s clattering sounds outside your room and you’re sure they’re still out there.

Minnie didn’t pick up, meaning you’d have to fend for yourself.

You close your eyes in frustration, even your eyelids burns. 

Shit, you have practice tomorrow.

You grab your oversized hoodie and ultimately decided to just go out in the kitchen, and find the medicine kit. There’s one out there, you knew it for sure because you were the one who put it there.

You really don’t want to look like a sick girl out there, so you just buried yourself with the hoodie. 

You make your way to the kitchen, and to some poop luck, they’re all there in the counter enjoying two pizza boxes. You practically salivate over the sight, but there’s no way you’d ask for some.

They all turn their heads at you, each having an expression you can’t read. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s the only one who sounded concerned. You shake your head and smiled at him.

“I’m good. Just—” cough. “–need to get something.” 

You see Renjun looking over at you with his brows furrowed, following your figure as you move around the counter. The medicine cabinet is exactly where he was standing, so you just muttered a weak ‘excuse me’.

“You don’t look good.” He says as soon as you stand next to him. You didn’t respond, but you just rummaged through the cabinet just to find anything. 

You were stunned when you felt his hands over at yours, looking up at him with your confused eyes.

“You’re fucking burning up, y/n.” 

He pulls your hood down, and then proceeds to put the backside of his hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. You were baffled, at his sudden concern but you don’t dwell on it, you physically think of anything but the raging headache you’re suffering from.

You gently swat his hands away, “I’m really okay… I just– Julie, where’s the Tylenol?” 

She looks at you, as if you were interrupting something.  “Don’t you keep them in your room? You didn’t have to come out,” 

You shake your head and you almost respond, before Renjun cuts you off.

“You should lay down, I’ll call someone,” He says strictly.

“What? Dude, she says she’s fine. She’ll live!” Haechan interjects, but Jaemin hits him on his shoulder.

“She’s literally dying, Haechan. Are you fucking blind?” Jaemin.

Haechan rolls his eyes, whispering something about ‘attention’ and Julie looking at him with a smirk.

You didn’t have the energy to be offended or anything, and you’re almost sure the world’s spinning. 

Before you know it, you heard Renjun curse and that’s when your vision turns absolutely pitch black.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Probably just over fatigue, just a little bit of rest and she should be okay.” 

Renjun rubs his temple as he sighed a thank you to Nurse Suh through the phone. 

“I told you, she’s just really over dramatic sometimes,” Julie says, in a comforting way, massaging Renjun’s shoulder. He was sitting in a single chair beside the couch, where you were laying on.

He bit his lip, looking over at your figure sleeping soundly. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, Jaemin and Haechan already left half an hour ago. 

“Why’re you even so worried, Renjunnie?” Julie chuckles.

“She literally fainted in front of us. Why aren’t you worried? You’re her roommate,” 

Julie looks to the side, straightening up. “Yeah, but we were never close,” Renjun frowned at her response, but still shrugged it off.

Honestly speaking, Renjun really did kind of snapped the moment you fainted. He was scared to death, he knew you weren’t feeling good the moment you entered the kitchen. And when you passed out, he felt the air snatched from his lungs.

He panicked, he admits. And he hates it so much, the way he acted. He wasn’t supposed to care. But what can he do when you literally faint in front of him? Every decent human being would do what he did. 

Except maybe the part where he woke up a school nurse in the middle of the night in panic and sat beside you for three hours trying to monitor your temperature waiting for you to wake up.

When your temperature finally seemed to had gone down, that’s when he decided to go home. And on the walk back to his car, he silently drove back to his apartment, simmering on his own thoughts, disappointed in himself.

“I hate her so much.” He says to himself, more so convincing himself. Even his body seemed to detect his lies, every word burns in his tongue. 

Among the texts you sent him, he finally texts you first.

[12:37 am] renjun: take a break.

Why can’t he just.. let you be? Why do you affect him this much? Still, after all this time?

He blames you. He blames your consistency. He blames your overconfidence, every time you look at him. He blames you for smiling at him every chance you get. He blames those stupid fucking cookies you give him everyday. He blames your entire personality, making him melt in a puddle every single time. And more importantly, he blames you for acting like you’ve never done anything wrong.

You make him feel like everything that happened in the past was a mere imagination. Like the pain he felt was a pigment of his own mind. Because no normal person would act the way you do if they’re aware of the damage they did to another person.

However, what kills him the most is the way he still wants to hold your stupid hand and kiss you in your stupid lips. He would never admit it, even to the devil himself, that after all that’s said and done, he’d still adore you with your hands around his neck.

“I told her to take a fucking break. What in the hell is she doing?!” He muttered to himself when he saw you doing stretches on the matted floor of the gymnasium. He had gone down there in disguise of visiting Julie, but in reality, he just wanted to check if your stubborn self didn’t listen to him. 

“Chill out.” He hears Haechan on his side. Haechan tagged along with him, as always, under the excuse of wanting to see Jeno practice. Who’s he kidding? He’s here to check out the cheerleaders. 

Jaemin was on his side too, having no classes to attend and not much better to do, he just went along.

“You’re so sweet, that’s for me?” Julie’s high pitched voice slashed through his ears, and that’s the only reason he even saw her in the first place. He caught himself staring at you and he immediately brought all his attention to Julie.

“Uh, yeah.” He lied, giving Julie the gatorade that was supposed to be for you, but he felt stupid giving it out to you. It’s embarrassing.

He watched at the sidelines, along with his two friends. His eyes were laser focused on you, and when you suddenly slipped during one of your stunts, his whole body flinched like a reflex.

“At least try to not be so obvious, Injunnie.” Jaemin laughed beside him.

“Shut up, dude. I just had a few extra cups of coffee today.” Even he, himself, cringed at his stupid excuse.

“I thought we hate her, dude? Come on, stand the fuck up! She’s playing you dude. I hate girls like that, acting all perfect and cheery when she literally fucked you over before.” Haechan complained, following it with a huff on his side.

“I still don’t like her, at all, okay? I’m here for Julie, and no one else.”

“Sure, Injunnie.” Jaemin folds his arms on his chest, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“Say it with me, Injun. We hate Birdie!” Haechan says with two clenched fists moving simultaneously up and down.

“You know what, Haechan, with the way you’re bitching all the time, why don’t you wear the cheer uniform and pompoms?” Jaemin snickers, earning a hit from Haechan.

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits.

“Sorry, honey, but I don’t swing that way. And even if I do, you wouldn’t even reach the list.” Jaemin and Haechan continued to bicker, with Renjun in between. 

He’s still deep in his own thoughts, remembering that he shouldn’t even look at you right now. He has Julie, and that’s what he should be focusing on. Not you.

But when he invited Julie back to his place, and he found your lingering eyes amidst the crowd, with a hint of pain splattered on your pretty face, he almost wanted to push Julie off of him and run to you.

And at that moment, he curses at himself. 

He cares.

He still cares.

He will always care.

And that’s his fucking problem.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“The game’s in two weeks, and you all should’ve nailed the routine by now. What is going on here?” 

Coach Evie goes on rampage with the squad, most of the blame pointed at you.

“Y/n, I will only say this once. You’ve been chosen as the captain of this squad for a reason. Don’t make me doubt you.” 

This was the first time you felt upset. Not because of the rage that was poured onto you, but because you knew Coach Evie was right. You have not been giving your all these past few days. 

There’s something wrong with you. Emotionally and physically.

Ever since the incident that happened last practice, you find it hard to do all the routines because of your left knee. You didn’t want to think about it, hoping it would just go away. 

It never did.

Emotionally, you felt horrible as well. Renjun was still with Julie, and from what you can see, they look like they’ll be together for a while. It hurts, yes, but there’s not much you can do about it. It’s never your forte to force yourself onto a man that’s spoken for. 

So you decided to take a break. Maybe a few days without practice will do you and the squad good. You focused on your studies, your classes and other stuff. 

That’s why you found yourself in the middle of a random basketball player’s party Thursday night. You came with Minnie, and in typical Minnie fashion, she disappeared with a random stranger within twenty minutes into the party.

This wasn’t what’s on your mind at all when you say that you needed a break. But Minnie was persistent, saying everybody has been waiting for you to finally show up with one of these parties. Because again, this wasn’t your scene at all.

She basically guilt tripped you into attending. 

“Oh, no, I don’t like alcohol.” You politely refused, for the nth time this night. Even though some were absolutely drunk and stubborn to accept rejection, you still politely responded to every single one of them.

“Shit, Birdie’s here!” You hear someone yell, and it turns out it was Sungchan, standing tall on the other side of the room pointing at where you were. 

A small commotion breaks out, some even gasps at seeing you. You didn’t expect it to be this big of a deal, you didn’t know these people at all.

After Sungchan’s announcement of your attendance, people started swarming you. You didn’t want to say it because it sounds so cringe in your head, but you were as if a celebrity attended a random student’s party. It was odd.

“Hi Bird,” You flinched a bit when somebody suddenly pressed on your side, a strong smell of weed filling up your nostrils. 

“Uh, hello.” You smile a little, taking a step away from the stranger. He smirks at you, biting his lip as he looks you up and down.

You press your cup of orange juice in your mouth as you look back at him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” 

You furrow your eyes trying to remember him. You don’t want to be rude and disrespectful so you did try your best but you just can’t remember.

“I’m Eric, y’know.. basketball team?” He says to spark familiarity in your head and it sure did. That’s where you knew him from!

“Yeah! Yeah that’s right!” You sounded so proud of remembering him now that you‘re sure you looked stupid.

He laughs– a bit too much actually before stepping again in your space. You didn’t know what to do, because you don’t want to confront him causing unnecessary drama. There’s too many people in here and the last thing you want to do is to bring attention to yourself. 

You silently prayed that Minnie finishes up quickly. You don’t know how to handle this kind of stuff.

“Wanna go somewhere quiet? Some privacy—”

“Really, dude?” 

You prayed up above, but the devil spawned from down below. It was Haechan who showed up.

Eric rolled his eyes and looked at Haechan, muttering ‘whatever’ before leaving. 

You finally take a breather, and close your eyes in relief. Even tho you think Haechan is a pain in your butt, his interference just saved you. You have to be grateful with that.

“Thanks.” You say sincerely.

“I didn’t do anything. What, you got tired of chasing Renjun’s tail and now you’re trying other options?” And there he goes again. As soon as you give him the benefit of a doubt, he goes right back in with his horrible remarks.

“I’m tired of this,” You say, wearing down your guard and putting your drink down on the counter.

“Finally! What a fucking relief. We also got tired of your pathetic ass running around my friend—“

“What did Renjun tell you to hate me like this, Haechan?” 

He falls silent. Suddenly not knowing what to say, completely perplexed at your sudden change of tone.

“You don’t know what happened, Haechan. And all this time I’m trying to understand all your hatred towards me because I know you’ve been told one side of the story. And I know I was in the wrong—”

“Y/n.” 

Your words hang in the air, swiftly looking over your shoulder seeing Renjun standing with his arms crossed along his chest, leaning his body on the counter.

Cheeks flushed, eyes droopy. He’s intoxicated.

“Renjun,” you whisper upon looking at him.

“Haechan, please leave.” Renjun slurred a bit in his words, but strict enough for Haechan to take it seriously.

“But she—“

“Leave.” 

Haechan huffs, giving you one last glare before walking away.

You wipe away any tear that might’ve escaped your eyes, before gaining back your composure. You stand there before Renjun, not knowing what to say next. Should you leave? Should you stay? 

“Your oven broke or something?” 

His question caught you off guard. That’s definitely not what you’re expecting him to say. You’re confused, really, really confused.

“What?” You say almost breathless. 

He smirks, letting his head fall backwards, eyes closed as he whispers something to himself, one you can’t quite understand.

“It’s been weeks, no cookies, no brownies or any bullshit you used to give me. What, you give up now, Birdie?” 

The way your nickname falls off his lips so smoothly makes your heart thump in excitement. This is the first time he acknowledged you by the way everybody calls you. It sparked a light in your chest that maybe, just maybe, this is a step.

“N-no, I-I’m just.. respecting your relationship with my roommate.” You don’t even know why you had to mention it. You could’ve just lied and told him you were busy, but the atmosphere of being in a party fed your courage to be reckless.

“Relation— bullshit. Me and Julie aren’t together, at least yet.”

 There he goes. He brings you up just to tear you down. It’s an endless roller coaster with him, but he would always be a ride you won’t ever regret. 

“I thought you don’t like them,” 

“I don’t. I like the fact that you’re trying so hard.” 

“I don’t understand Renjun. What are you— do you want me to keep running after you?” You state, extremely nervous about what he’d say next. Every breath you take was calculated, every second mattered.

You don’t even know why you’re having this conversation with him when he’s clearly drunk. However, there could be no other opportunity for him to give you attention other than this. 

“I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t want you, period. It’s just… why the fuck do you give up on me so easily?” His disencourage tone was evident, a slight hoarse in his throat made it obvious. He’s drunk. He doesn’t mean it.

“You’re with Jul—“

“I’m not— fuck!” He sounds like he’s running out of patience, gripping the edge of the counter as if to hold himself back.

“I’m asking you one more time, Renjun. Do you want me to keep trying? Do you want me to keep chasing you?” 

This time, he looks at you with an intense gaze, saying the words that won’t come out of his lips, with a hint of resentment and despair. You know him too well.

You bite your lip as you try to hold back the tears threatening to escape again. “Because I will, Renjun. Just tell me the words.” 

If anyone could hear you right now, they’d be horrified at how desperate you sound. You, the cheerleading captain, down so bad for a man to the point of begging to let you chase him desperately. You’re so ridiculous that it’s not even funny anymore.

Not that you would care. When it comes to Renjun, you’d do worse.

“Go home.” He spat, turning around just before your eyes started letting go of the tears you’ve been dangerously holding on to.

A dagger through the heart, but you are to blame. You're willing the blade through your own heart.

And you won’t have it any other way.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Ever since that party, you’ve discovered new courage— much like before.

You went back to baking sweets for Renjun, approaching him any chance you get, and smiling at him at all times. It’s like you were motivated to do things for him again. 

Despite the glares Julie consistently gives you, you can’t find it in you to care. Renjun said it himself, they’re not together yet. He was practically saying you’re welcome to do anything you’d like.

Well maybe you assumed that but tomato, tomáto.

“Oh, hi Birdie. Long time no see, huh?” Jaemin’s smile was the first to greet you as you knocked in their hangout place.

“Hi, Jaemin. Renjun there?” 

“No, but I’d gladly take that cookie off your hands and give it to him.” He nicely takes the box from you.

“Tell him good morning too.” 

Jaemin chuckles and scratches his brow, “Sure thing, sugar.” 

You don’t know what he finds funny, because you were serious. But oh well.

You happily walked back to your department, ready to take on one of your classes. A few waves to some students who greets you, stopping for some who attempt a conversation with you.

You remember what Minnie said, you’re always late because you don’t like ignoring people or saying no to a conversation, it doesn't matter who it is.

But you just really don’t like coming across rude. It feels wrong. 

You were almost at your class when you stumbled upon Renjun walking in the hallway with his earphones on. 

Smiling to yourself, you skip over to his side. All it takes was a soft tap on his shoulder before he takes off his earphones and turns around to look at whoever grabbed his attention.

“Hi, Renjun.” With the sweetest smile you have to offer. 

“You need something?” You felt really giddy hearing his usual cold tone, his voice making you flutter.

“I brought you cookies up at your hangout place but you weren’t there. Jaeminnie took it so you can just get it from him. And oh, good morning!”  

For a quick second, you see irritation across his eyes. Creasing his brows down at you.

“Since when is he ‘Jaeminnie’?” 

Your smile faded, hinting something new at his demeanor. This is new. His tone was something different and the way he looks at you seemed far from what you’re used to.

Is he… no way. 

“Since he..” You shook your head, “Nevermind. It’s freshly baked too so it would be good if you eat it as soon as possible. I don’t want you skipping breakfast or any meals—”

“Junnie.”

You snap your head back, only seeing Julie approaching you two. You almost scowl at her presence but you decide it’s not very nice to do. So you just kept the smile you had before and waved at Julie.

“I thought we’ll meet at the cafe?” Renjun asks, the change in the way he talks was prominent. 

“I figured we should walk together..” The glance Julie gave you was short lived, obviously trying to question why you’re still here. 

And to be honest, you don’t know too. You look pretty stupid standing in a conversation you don’t belong in.

You were about to walk away, when your name got called.

“Y/n!” You turn to see Sungchan, waving at you with a wide smile spread across his face.

“Hey, Sungchan.” You wave back.

He looks at the three of you, but ultimately keeps his focus on you. He seemed to read the room, and when you thought he’d sweep you away, he stood tall.

“Hey, Renjun, Julie. Uh,” he turns to you, “Mr. Hong canceled the class.” 

“Oh really? Okay.” You nod, thinking where you should go. You turn to Renjun who’s looking at Sungchan, visibly irritated by the boy’s sudden appearance. 

“We should go, Injunnie. The cafe could be crowded by the time we get there.” Julie clings onto his side, tugging him slightly. 

“Dream cafe? I heard they’re giving out free croissants! Y/n, we should go with them!” Sungchan, way too enthusiastic as he put his arms around you. You flinch a bit, thinking about Renjun seeing it. 

But when you see him and Julie, you opted to just let it be.

“I don’t—“

“Let’s go!” Sungchan pulls you with him, and you hesitantly walk with him. Renjun lets out a scoff, looking to the side before following. 

“What are you doing?!” You whisper at Sungchan.

“I’m helping you, silly.” He answers quietly, and you wanted to ask for an explanation on how this is helping you, but you were greeted by a student walking by.

“What’s your order?” A lovely barista greeted Julie.

“Spanish Latte for me, Injunnie?” Iced Jasmine Tea. You silently whisper to yourself.

“Iced Jasmine Tea.” You smirk to your triumph. Little wins matter! 

“Psh, simp.” You heard Sungchan on your side, you immediately elbowed him on his side. How the heck did he hear you?

“Shut up.” You growl at him, but quickly smile as you look ahead.

“How about our pastries?” You look to the side and there’s deliciously looking treats displayed. You would order one yourself, but you’d already eaten your own baked cookies.

“Cheesecake for me and.. you, Injunnie?” You note the additional pitch Julie adds in her voice whenever she talks to Renjun. She sounds cute. 

“No thanks. I have cookies back at my place.” 

You hitch your breath. Is he.. Is he talking about your cookies? The one you baked for him? Widening your eyes, you look at him in disbelief. Did he just acknowledge your cookies? Oh my god!

“Hi Birdie!” Your trance was cut-off by the barista’s enthusiastic approach, even waving excitedly at you.

“Jesus christ, Even outside the campus people know you?!” Sungchan asks in astonishment. 

“Of course! I love her, she’s like one of the reasons I’m trying out cheerleading next year. That routine you did last summer was so perfect!” The barista gushed on and on, making your cheeks red. 

“I’ll have Iced Americano and she’ll have..” Sungchan looked back at you.

“Caramel Macchiato, please.” You say sweetly, and the barista happily put your order in. You were about to pay cash, but before you could even bring out your wallet, a ping on the cashier.

You look back and see Sungchan smiling like an idiot after tapping his phone. 

“I got that.” You complain.

“I got it first tho.” Sungchan smirked. You open your mouth to retort back, however, Renjun starts walking away— probably to one of the tables. You quickly follow pursuit.

“Hmm, so big game next week, huh?” Julie was the first to initiate the conversation.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, heard you guys are performing at the game?” Sungchan looked at you.

“Ye–”

“Of course. We’re already almost finished with the routine. Just kind of sucks that we had to take a break for no reason.” Julie says in the most oblivious way, as if she just said something casual.

You blink thrice, processing her words. Didn’t you need to take a break because she didn’t do her job causing you to have knee problems? 

 “I’m sorry about that,I just really needed to let my knee relax. But I'm alright now.” You still smiled and took a sip off your coffee. 

“You hurt your knee?” Renjun’s sudden concern made the three of you look at him, but he didn’t even flinch. He’s still waiting for your response.

“Yeah uh, it’s just the usual… not that big of a deal.” You say, words stumbling upon your throat. You’re not used to him being like this. 

“Didn’t I tell you to take a break?” 

“I did…that’s why the practice got held back afew. But I’m fine now!” Your tone was cheerful, hopefully to convince him that you’re really doing okay now. You don’t know where this sudden concern about your well being came from but you’re not complaining either.

However, If looks could kill, Julie might’ve committed murder by now. 

“She’s doing fine now… she’s Birdie, after all.” The sarcasm laced in her words are strong.

The tension was too much to handle, so you excused yourself. 

As soon as you were in the bathroom, you let out a deep breath. You really don’t know how to handle confrontation. When someone’s being obviously rude towards you, you just fold. 

There’s something really wrong with you. You can’t seem to be comfortable with defending yourself, or just straight up calling out people for their rude behavior. You’d rather just sit there and take it. You can’t even curse, for christ sake!

“Y/n.” You look at the mirror, only to see Julie entering the bathroom as well.

She looks upset. Like really, really upset.

“Hey Jul—”

“You know that me and Renjun are a thing, right?” You stop whatever you’re doing, and turn around to really face her. Did she have to lie straight to your face?

“According to him though, there’s nothing going on between you two.” 

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart. There’s clearly something there.” She rolls her eyes.

“And unless you and him say it verbatim, there’s nothing wrong here.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Are you hearing yourself? You sound ridiculous. What’s not clicking, y/n? Renjun hates you. He finds you annoying. He probably thinks you’re a desperate bi—”

“Julie, get the fuck out of my face. I’m not gonna say it twice,” 

She let out a small gasp. You were shocked as well. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. You inhale and close your eyes, exhaling when you look at her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But if you could just… just leave, please.” 

“You’re gonna regret this, Birdie.” You can see that she meant the threat, and you can’t help but to feel anxious. You were about to question it but she walked out before you could do so.

When you go back to the table, Renjun and Julie are long gone. Apparently, Julie went on about feeling sick, and Renjun had to go with her. 

“I really don’t get it, y/n. You really like that man? He’s clearly interested in Julie. And not to mention, he treats you like shit.” Sungchan was perplexed, to say the least.

You just gave him an apologetic smile and continued sipping your coffee. You’re tired of convincing people on why you’re into him. 

They don’t need to understand. As long as it makes sense to you and Renjun, that’s enough.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Game night.

NCU vs SHU. Two universities that've been butting heads all year. Jeno leads the NCU neocats, whilst Dino leads the SCU ravens. You’re all in for NCU, of course. 

The gymnasium was packed. The first game was on your campus, opening its gates for both universities for tonight’s game. 

It’s always exciting, the marching band started playing, indicating that the game is about to start. 

“Alright, guys! Warm up!” Coach Evie calls. You quickly sit on the grass, stretching your legs, reaching it with your fingertips.

Everybody else was stretching as well. But you can’t help but feel the daggers that've been throwing at you ever since practice. 

Julie has been glaring at you. And you can’t help but feel anxious. You pull Minnie to the side.

“Switch main base with me?” You ask nicely.

“That would ruin the routine, Birdie. Why would you want to switch anyways?” She questions, kind of confused at your sudden request.

“I don’t feel secure with some of my support. It’s only for the toss, Minnie.” You didn’t want to say Julie’s name, careful not to single her out. But you also feel bad pertaining to all your main bases when they didn’t do anything at all.

“Oh, is it that bitch Julie? What happened? You want me to beat the lights out of her? Because I will—”

“You know what, nevermind. I hate that you resort to violence for anything, Minnie. That’s not very nice.”  

Maybe you’re just paranoid. Julie won’t intentionally ruin your routine. She won’t.

Minnie kissed her teeth, putting her hands on her hips. “I know that you know switching main bases last minute is a horrible idea. You’re the captain, for christ sake. So that means one thing. Julie said something that would make you want to switch. I will keep an eye on her, don’t worry. If she tries shit, I will fuck her up, okay? Now go, captain. We’re about to start.” Minnie hugged you tight, stepping away after just to fix your bow. 

You’re really glad you have Minnie. You wouldn’t know what to do without her.

You glance around the bleachers, finding someone that would definitely soothe your overthinking brain. 

And there he was, in the midst of the busy crowd, looking graceful as always as he sat in between Haechan and Jaemin. It’s like seeing him made you calm down. The effect of his presence made you relax. 

And as soon as he connects his sight to yours, he sighs. You thought he’d just look away, but he smiled. Mouthing the words, ‘Goodluck, Birdie’

You felt your chest burst, instantly nodding at him. You didn’t even think about it when you whispered the words you have always wanted to say.

‘I love you’ 

And then he visibly froze. But before he could react, Coach Evie called you.

You didn’t have a choice but to bring your attention back to the squad.

“Birdie, lead the squad. Alright, everybody. Finish the routine safely and perfectly. This is just the beginning. The real competition is the next game, the National Cheerleading Competition executives will be here as judges— they will pick a winner between you and Scarlet Heart. But that doesn’t mean y’all can slack on this one, alright?” Coach Evie really needs to work on her pep talk. 

You sigh, shaking your entire body to loosen up. You were about to go into position when you noticed the entire squad looking at you.

“Whatchu wanna say, captain?” Minnie smiles at you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to say something. 

“Oh, right, uh–” You clear your throat, “Cheer like it's your last?” You were unsure, and so as everybody, but Minnie, being the ever sweetheart that she is, she clapped and cheered. 

As the announcer yelled for the NCU Squad, the familiar feeling rushed through your body. The adrenaline starts to creep in and you get high in the feeling. Everytime you perform, you get the chills that you have always craved. Like this was your calling. Like this has always been what you’re meant to do.

The music started, and you swore you had nothing on your mind. Your body moves on its own and it somehow perfect every single step. It was more of a reflex by this point, every position, every beat tatted in your brain. 

But then there comes the part where you get tossed in the air. And although you memorized everything in the back of your head, this particular moment was extremely dangerous. You get tossed almost nine feet up in the air, and everything goes once it’s executed. So it’s natural to get nervous, however something’s not right.

You don’t have time to figure it out, the crowd already hyping you up. They know the climax of the routine, and that’s when the air lifts are performed. And you’re usually the person who gets thrown– so they know when it’s your turn.

“Birdie, Birdie, Birdie!” 

You take a deep inhale, before starting to climb up on a couple of bases.You glance at the bleachers, finding your courage from one person but he isn’t where he’s at earlier. You didn’t have time to think about it, and on two counts, the bases started to gain momentum. And just right before you get thrown, you look at a pair of eyes that made your blood run cold.

The rage behind Julie’s eyes was evident. You performed the pose in the air, executed it perfectly, but when you’re about to land, everyone went silent.

Julie stepped back from her spot, causing you to land on your injured knee immediately the pain made you lose your balance. 

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through your leg. A searing pain lanced through your knee, buckling your leg. You hold it in place as you process the entire situation.

Everybody was silent. It felt like a slow motion, most of your squad immediately running to you. You can’t breathe. The initial shock felt like a dagger through the heart. Your jaw slacks, as you look at Julie running away from the field. 

Minnie immediately shook you from your trance, and that’s when you looked at her. The pain has gotten worse when you snap back to reality. You felt your entire cheerleading career crumble in your hands. The tears follow through as you look up at Minnie.

“Minnie, I’m done..” You can’t believe it. “Oh my god, I’m done.” 

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

A few years back

“Huang Renjun, you’re close with him, right?” Giselle asked.

“Yeah..” You hesitantly say. You saw her look back at Ningning, and they both smirked at each other.

“I was just asking.” Giselle shrugged, and even though you were sure that there’s underlying meaning behind her question. 

It has been about three months since you got in the cheerleading squad, and to be honest, it has been underwhelming. Giselle rarely calls for practice, but she’s always in cheer uniform. She also only has very limited rotation between the team, mostly her, Ningning, and Yiren always in the center. 

You? You were always at the back. Which you never complained about, because Giselle is the captain for a reason, what she says, goes. And you’re a newbie, there’s no room for complaints, especially from you. 

“What happened? Why’d she call you?” Renjun’s soft voice instantly turns your mood up. He waited at the parking lot, leaning on his car as he watched you walk towards him. 

As soon as you close the distance he smiles warmly, then proceeds to fix the hair that was all over your face, and tucks into your ear.

“She just asked a question,” You didn’t lie, technically. You just withhold a minor detail.

“Ready for tonight?” He smiles warmly at you. You nod excitingly at him.

Renjun promised to take you out on a ‘friendly’ date tonight. It’s one of his ways to make it up for the time he lost with you. You swear to him that he didn’t need to do all this, but he insisted that you come with this ‘date’ tonight. 

You didn’t want to expect anything, but it’s hard not to when you’re literally head over heels with Renjun. A little assuming won’t hurt, sometimes.

“Are you sure I don’t need to change my clothes?” You pat down your pleated skirt, a bit conscious about your outfit. You were only wearing an oversized knitted sweater– and your everyday sneakers for this ‘date’. 

Renjun is also rocking a casual outfit, but he still looks dashing. It's honestly not fair.

“No, I promise you,  you look good in anything.” 

There’s also a change in how Renjun talks to you. He talks to you with a bit of… flirting? You didn’t want to assume anything, again, but being delusional naturally is registered in your system. 

You didn’t know where Renjun was taking you, but you didn’t care as long as you’re with him. Nothing could make this man look bad in your books. 

When the car stops, your hand moves to the car door, but Renjun held your wrist. 

“Come on, you don’t need to open the door for me.” You chuckle a bit, finding his chivalry cute.

“No, we don’t even need to leave the car.” You furrow your brows at him. As you turn your eyes on the front, you get suddenly blinded by a cinema sized LED screen.

You hitch your breath as the familiar movie starts.

“Bring It On!” You squeal, fascinated and somewhat perplexed as to how Renjun got this drive in cinema play a movie from the 2000s.

You turn to him with, corners of your mouth going up. He smiled back, reached at the backseat— and suddenly, a bouquet of yellow tulips separated your eyes from him. 

You can’t help but blink rapidly, trying to make sense of it all. Is this an actual date? Not a friendly one? Whatever is going on right now, one thing’s for sure, you’re loving every second of it.

The movie started, and it feels like you’re straight out of a novel. However, as you try to relax, your fingers brush against his, and you swear you felt a slight spark. 

At this very moment, the movie is long forgotten. All your undivided attention is on the way your skin feels hot, and your focus is on how to initiate more contact with Renjun.

“Want something to eat?” He asks softly, glancing at you with the sweetest eyes you could ever imagine.

“Not exactly that,” you let out an awkward chuckle and shifted in your seat.

“What’s the problem?” God, he’s so oblivious, you just want to jump his bones right now. You shake your head off with the dirty thoughts.

“Why– why’re we doing this? Why are you doing this, Renjun?” You gather courage to actually address the elephant in the room.

His jaw slacks but he swiftly kept his composure. “I thought you’d want to finish the movie first—”

“I’ve watched that movie 54 times. I could probably cite the next dialogue without thinking. So what is it, Renjunnie?” 

He gulps one time, before he starts fidgeting with his hands. “I love you, y/n. I have loved you for a long time now and I was a coward because I had thought that a loser like me didn’t have the right to want you. So I gained my confidence, tried befriending other people to gain popularit–” Before he could even finish, you threw the bouquet on the back seat of his car and grabbed his collar. Next thing you know is you’re already making out with him on the passenger seat and you did not care about anything else.

You pulled away, breathless, “I love you too, Renjun.” 

You could not take your hands off of each other as soon as you entered his apartment. He shared it with a guy named Donghyuck, but he was out tonight, which you thanked the heavens for.

“Y/n,” He whispers your name every chance he gets, which is not much since your lips are connected at every moment ever since you stepped foot in this apartment.

You didn’t want to rush things with him, but you just felt like this was the right moment. This was the perfect timing. He’s the right person to do this with.

He kissed you hard, but softly at the same time. It was like you were drowning, but you didn’t mind it. 

“Shit,” curses sounded heavenly when it came from his mouth, turning you on even more.

You didn’t even realize you were already in the confinement of his bedroom, until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You let your balance loose, allowing yourself to lay back on the mattress. 

He looked at you in a way that made your spine shiver, your entire body burning with desire. 

“Are you sure about this?” He carefully asks as he lowers himself to tower over you. You look at him with the same passion and nod your head. “I’m always sure about you.” You take his lips once more.

You can tell he was hesitant to touch places you wanted his hands on. So you take the lead, grabbing his nervous hands and placing it on your breast. “Please touch me,” 

His jaw slackens, a new sensation traveling down his body. “I’-I’m sorry, I haven’t done this before.” He stuttered, but you just bit your lip.

“I haven’t either. We’ll be each other’s first,” You smile reassuringly at him, caressing his cheek as he looks at you warily. 

He started to massage your breast, whilst his lips traveled down your neck. You can feel your stomach flutter at the feeling, never expecting such a move would make you go crazy. He then looks at you again, holding the hem of your shirt, almost as if asking permission. You gazed over at him with lust that you knew he got the message.

He lifted it up, and in every skin that gets exposed, he blessed it with his lips. The wetness of it  makes your breath hitch. “Renjun, please.” 

He pulled your sweater up until you’re now only left with your bra. He slowly reaches at your back, which you helped by arching, and with a snap, your bra falls undone. 

The cold breeze around your nipples did not last long because as soon as his eyes fell down, his lips attached to one of the peaks. You shudder, gripping his hair, gently pulling it. You’re a moaning mess.

“Touch me more,” You managed to blurt out. He seemed to understand, with the way his hands traveled down your skirt. Still making out with your exposed breast, paying attention one after another, he started playing with your panties. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet already.” He felt the dampness over the cloth, directing his middle finger on the slit. You gasp in pleasure, flinching every time he explored further. 

“Jun,” You whine when he starts pulling down your skirt, along with your panties. His jaw opens slowly as he looks at you with hunger behind his eyes, but the softness of adoration still present at his expression. You clench at the sudden coldness but he didn’t allow you to suffer any further as he moved fast and removed his own clothing.

“Shit, baby you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

He parted your thighs and squished himself in between, his member hitting your core ever  so slightly. But the thought of it drives you nuts, and it takes all of you to not do anything about it. He went back to making out with you as his hands do wonders.

“Uh, my gosh.” You inhale once his fingers start rubbing your pussy, trying to steady your hands on his body. He pulls away just to watch you fall apart in his hands.

He bites his lip as his fingers started moving down, where your hole is. “I’m.. I’m gonna finger you first, okay?” He asks ever so carefully, and it’s obvious that he’s also as nervous as you are.

“Okay, baby. I trust you.” 

And just then, he applied pressure and eventually entered you, making you flinch a bit. He moans with you, a foreign feeling enveloping at his fingertips. This is the first time he had ever touched somebody, and he can already tell that you’re the best.

“R-Renjun.” You whine as he starts moving in and out. ]

“Fuck, fuck you’re dripping, oh-” He takes a glance at your wet core, where his middle finger disappears. He pushed another finger in and you swore you almost felt like you’re coming.

You see his other hand leave your breast, moving it down his own body and you just knew what he was going to do. You swiftly take his hand away and replace it with yours. You knew enough from videos, ones that were shown to you by your former friends. 

He muttered out a deep groan once you made contact with his cock, immediately moving your hands in the same rhythm he does with his own fingers. 

You never knew it would feel this good. The look in his face, the way his mouth slackens and the way he falls vulnerable on your touch felt dangerously addicting. 

There was a strange feeling on your stomach, like a thread that’s waiting to snap. Like you were about to explode. “Renj– oh, I’m.. I think I’m coming,” 

You cry at the feeling, making him work even harder. He licks his lips as he went faster, and you can just feel your body shake. Your hands can no longer move, and in the next moment, you felt euphoria. You were shaking, grabbing at his wrist, trapping it in between as you rode the wave of pleasure.

“That was so fucking hot, baby.. God I can just cum right here.” He says, now trying to calm you down. He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered ‘good job’. Your eyes are still closed when he positioned himself on top of you, the tip of his cock aligning in your entrance.

“You ready?” He asks, moving his tip up and down your slit. You nod, even when tired, you’re still filled with eagerness. 

“I need to feel you now,” You say. He gave you a peck on your lips and just when you know it, he started to stretch you out.

And it hurts. It hurts so bad, but it's so good. 

“It hurts,” You just couldn’t believe how painful it was. Yes, you knew it would sting a bit, but not like this. You almost wanted to stop right there but when you felt him shiver, and hear him moan, everything washed off. 

“I’-I’m sorry baby, fuck you’re gonna make me cum.” He says, whining even louder than you. He cages your head with both his forearms, making you look up at him, and him only. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He says, tears on the edge of his eyes. 

“I love you so much,” You whisper. Swiftly, by looking at his eyes, the pain subsided. “You can move now, baby.” 

He nods and in every thrust he makes, the pain slowly turns to pleasure. Like magic, it dissipates into thin air, only replaced with the pure euphoric feeling. 

Your tears were one of those tears that came from pleasure, and that pleasure not only derives from him fucking you, but also from the fact that it’s him you’re doing this with. The boy you love the most.

“I can’t, baby. I can’t last, you feel too fucking good.” He whined in your ear, embracing you so tight that you might’ve broken a rib, not that you’d care. 

You hugged him back, “It’s okay, baby. Let go.” 

“Ah, ah— shit, I love you. I love you, y/n. Please tell me you— fuck —love me too.”

You were there with him, both your climax approaching fast, even faster when he called your name. “I love you so much, my baby, my Huang Renjun.” 

You both came, looking at each others eyes. He dived down to kiss you torridly, caressing your hair. 

And with that intense state of pleasure and love, you hold him like you’ve never before. 

Everything was perfectly in place for you, and you’ve never been happier. 

You’re achieving your dream of becoming a cheerleader, and your dream of being with your first love, Huang Renjun. It all seemed dandy, until Giselle asked you to stay behind practice.

“You know Theo? The main base? Yeah, he likes you, y/n.” At the end of the practice, Giselle and Ningning basically cornered you. You had no idea about what they were talking about— one thing’s for sure, you’re not interested.

“I don’t like him like that.. and besides, I have a—”

“And our Ningning here likes Renjun. So I suggest giving her a chance, yeah?” Giselle crossed her arms across her chest, lifting her brows.

You were puzzled. You and Renjun just officiated your relationship last night, how can they ask you this? Your breathing quickens.

“I-I— Giselle, what are you saying? He’s my boyfriend,” Your voice started to shake. 

“Don’t piss me o—” Ningning rolled her eyes at you and even attempted to lunge at you, making you flinch but Giselle blocked her.

“Nings,” Giselle reprimanded before staring back at you again.

“You know that cheerleading is all about sisterhood, right, y/n?” Her voice was ice cold, her eyes making you shiver. The Giselle you idolized was long gone, only replaced by this cold hearted person.

“I—”

“But it’s fine. However, you can’t just turn down Theo like that, right? He’s been talking about you nonstop, and to be honest, I like him as my brother. So, be kind and meet him at the back of the gym tonight. You can do that, right?” Her attitude screamed authoritative, but also soft, as if to trick you into manipulation. She didn’t let her smile fade while waiting for your answer.

You shake your head, “I will talk to him when I want to, Giselle. But I don’t think its a good idea—”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go against the cheer captain? You'll see him after this. And you better not tell Renjun. Or else, I’ll kick you out of the team.” 

You were in a state of shock. You feel highly strung, why is she being like this? Threatening to kick you out because you refuse to obey her nonsense order? 

You couldn’t say anything when they left. You were conflicted on so many levels. 

When you become Captain, you will never be like her. You’ll be better, in every conceivable way. 

But now that you’re still starting, you can’t do much. So you followed her. Convincing yourself that nothing worse will happen. You'll just have to talk with Theo, that’s it.

[6:34pm] injunnie <3: baby are u done? meet me @ the parking lot

Your fingers shake, typing out a lie. You cannot fathom lying to him, but still, you did. 

[6:35pm] you: hi babyy <3 uhm, not yet. i need to practice a few stunts :(( i’ll just text u, ok?

[6:35pm] injunnie <3: ok baby. see u later! love u :*

You brush your hand across your hair. Not even a day in your relationship, and you’re already lying to him about meeting a guy. You felt horrible. 

Yet, here you are, standing a few feet away from Theo.

“Hi, y/n.” He was smiling at you, but you felt uncomfortable. He started walking towards you rather aggressively, to the point that your legs started to step away backwards. 

There was a measure of anxiety spread all over your face, however, you still managed to talk. 

“Giselle told me–”

“She’s right, y/n. I asked her to help me. And I’m glad you decided to talk about this–” 

Your brows knitted together, but you thought that maybe he had a wrong impression about you coming here to talk to him. “Actually, Theo, I have a boyfriend.” 

He froze, smile fading, his expression accenting his confusion. You almost felt bad, but in a swift moment, his lips stretched into a smirk and leaned his head to the right. “Well, you could just give me a lil’ kiss then, right?”

Your lips ajar, brows furrowed as you try and process what you’ve just heard. Deeply offended, you attempt to call him out on his brazen request, but he continues.

“Giselle would be so mad to hear that you can’t even give me a single kiss, y/n. She loves me, and if I told her how selfish you are, she’d have no problem banning you from cheerleading up until college. She has connections, y/n.” 

All other words suddenly fled your mind. Theo’s basically blackmailing you into cheating. Your nose wrinkled in disgust upon his words, but you can’t seem to say anything. Heart beats intensely as you weigh the choice you need to make in this situation.

“Giselle won’t–” 

“Oh she will. You’re outshining her in the squad and she’d be more than happy to make up a reason to ban you. Come on, y/n. Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know.” 

You’d be forbidden to join up until college. You wouldn’t be able to cheer ever again. 

He takes a step forward, this time, rooted in your place, you feel your stomach twist. Your eyes burned in tears. Theo’s touch burned, and you gulped as his palm laid on your cheek. 

You couldn’t move. Your skin tingles, heart rapidly beating within your chest as your breathing grows tighter. 

He doesn’t have to know. Renjun wouldn’t know.

At the moment his lips touched yours, you knew you made a mistake. You felt disgusted, you can’t find it in you to respond.

 “Kiss me fucking properly.” He growls. You clench your fist, and tighten your eyes as you kiss him back despite the tremble of your lips due, a wave of revulsion swept through your entire body. 

You’re cheating on Renjun for your dream of being a cheerleader. 

Then there was a terrifying moment when you feel someone else being present in this vile affair that you’re forced to partake in. You open your tear filled eyes and right there and then, your whole world shatters.

There he was, the love of your life, standing a few feet away. Behind him was Ningning, sporting a smirk as if she’d won. Your mind tells you to step away, run to Renjun, and beg for forgiveness. But your fear overshadowed you, staying right where you were, slowly digging your own grave.

His eyes were poisonous to even look upon, so much hatred tainted in his mind. You knew he’d hate you, no, he’d despise you. And nothing breaks your heart even more than seeing him walk away.

You immediately pushed Theo, and landed a sharp slap across his face. Tears surged in uncontrollably as you slowly realize that you’d already lost the only person you loved. 

Whatever it takes, huh?

You see Theo leave, and when it’s just you and the overflowing guilt alone, that’s when your legs give out. You sat there, clutching your hand on your chest as you cried, desperately wiping your lips until they hurt. 

In the quiet moments that followed, the only sound was the echoing resonance of guilt, regret, and shame.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 

“Ruptured patellar tendon on your knee, Ms. Y/N. Unfortunately you’ll have to undergo physical therapy, and most likely, you'll never be able to perform in cheerleading indefinitely.” 

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water was just poured all over you. You stared at nothingness, hoping all of this was just a dream. 

Why should this even happen to you? Is it karma? If it is, isn’t this too much of a punishment? 

You cried and cried until your eyes dried up, having to accept the fact that at the age of 22, your dream was snatched away from you.

Was it cruel? Yes, absolutely. Did you deserve it? Arguable. 

Cheerleading was the only thing you know, and now it’s off the table. It was as though a veil of sadness had been draped over your eyes, distorting your perception of the world and casting everything in shades of gray. What are you supposed to do now?

A swarm of support follows you on the third day of your hospitalization, and you swear you’re grateful for all of them, however, you can’t seem to find gratitude for any of them.

Most of the cards called you Birdie, and how are you supposed to live up to the name if your wings were broken off? You’re no longer Birdie, and the only remaining sentiment that name carries is sadness and disappointment.

“I beat her up, you know?” Minnie says one time she visited you.

You look at her in shock. A laugh traveled through her, “Not ‘beat’, actually. I just landed a few on her face. Nobody in the squad snitched, because they knew she deserved it. Her boyfriend seemed mad about it tho,” 

For the first time in a while, you thought about Renjun. Your mind was in a different space the entire time that you forgot about him. He wasn’t there when the incident occured and it would be possible if he didn’t know what happened. 

“Does he know?” Your voice was scratched, and a glint of hope laced in your tone.

“I don’t think he knew of the severity of the injury, and I’m sure that bitch already switched up the story. He’s a dumbass.”

“He wasn’t there, he didn’t see what happened. I’m sure he’s–”

Minnie snapped, raising her voice. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Birdie. Stop defending him! You should get your mind off of him. It’s pissing me off that despite what happened, you still find a way to give people the benefit of a doubt. And I bet you don’t even blame Julie, you’d rather blame yourself,” She’s right. Not that you’re not mad about what Julie did, but you’re more so empty. You don’t know what to feel, and even debated if you deserved it or not.

You sink more on your seat in shame. “Please, learn to be mad. Learn to be angry, and hold people into accountability. Not everyone deserves a second chance.” 

That made you think, not only about this entire ordeal, but also the past. Not everyone deserves a second chance.

Does that mean you too? With what you did with Renjun? Did you not deserve a second chance?

Maybe you’re too nice because you’re overcompensating for what you did to get what you had. And now you’ve had your time, it was cruelly snatched from you. 

Maybe that dream wasn’t yours to begin with.

And maybe, Renjun wasn’t meant to be yours, too.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Renjun felt uneasy. There’s something weird about the atmosphere that night of the game. 

Before your performance that night, he had to take a call from his mom, asking him to come home for a favor. He was conflicted, because although he masked it greatly, he did liked watching you perform. 

However, he thought that you still had a final performance in the next game, which was twice as important than that night so he just opted to leave before the game. 

The next morning, he was overwhelmed by Julie’s tears. 

“M-Minnie, that fucking bitch beat me up!” She screams, pointing at the slight bruising at her temple.

He heard about the incident last game, and it killed him to get the news that you were injured, again. The last time that happened, he almost wanted to take you home and take care of you properly. Yet, something in him always reminds him that you chose this career.

You chose this over him. 

But Renjun wouldn’t lie if he said that he didn’t feel bad about Julie right now. From what he has heard, the entire thing was an accident. Julie did not deserve to be hurt physically, at least that’s what he thought at first.

Julie had become a close friend of his, quickly forming a bond with shared interest in some things. Julie’s really pretty as well, and even though Renjun doesn’t care about that stuff, he’s sure as hell won’t deny the truth. 

He tried, he really did. Julie was a perfect partner, and she seemed sweet and kind, one of the qualities Renjun liked about her. So, yes. Maybe he did plan to be with her, at least sleep with her. 

But when he saw your pain stricken face in that elevator, he was suddenly unsure.

“Why did you have to put your hands on her?” He asks Minnie calmly. He had no intention confronting her, he just wanted to know the reason and she happened to walk past him.

She stared back at him with a cold grin, “That bitch deserved more.” 

For some odd reason, Renjun didn’t say anything after that. Rather, he’d questioned why Minnie did it to that extent, why is she so angry that she’d resort to violence.

It wasn’t until the day before your big performance that Renjun started to worry. It has been more than a week and he still hasn’t seen you.

He snuck out from classes just to peek at the cheerleading practice and you weren’t there. Not in your usual classes, hallways or cafeteria where he’s usually seen you. 

Out of sheer desperation, he asked Julie.

“What happened at the last game?”

He saw a glimpse of fear run through her eyes when it widened upon hearing his question.

“I told you, It was an accident.” Julie’s tone was defensive.

There’s a voice inside Renjun’s head, saying to not trust her. 

For the reason being that you’d never not show up in your classes, even with simple injury. Sure, you’d skip practice for a few days but you’d be back on your feet the next day. Especially with an event like this.

His worry grew, now stressing on why you’re still not around. It’s the final game, and you should be here, if not to cheer, but atleast watch your squad. You’d always done that. So why are you still not around?

He curses at himself for caring about you this much. He felt like he betrayed himself, his own morals and beliefs because he should not care about you anymore. Afterall, you cheated on him. No matter how nice you are, no matter how much you claim that you’ve changed. There’s no way he could just forget the pain he went through.

So why is he standing outside the field, waiting on any of your friends to show up and ask them where you’ve been? 

“Where’s your captain?” He asks the first person he saw wearing the squad uniform.

“Oh, she’s almost here, wait, there she is!” Sunghoon says pointing at the back. 

A wave of relief washed over Renjun. Shit, you’re okay. You’re here. 

But when he turns around, he sees Minnie. He furrows his brow, quite perplexed as to why he’s pointing at Minnie when he knows damn well she’s not the captain of cheerleading.

“If you’re here to ask where’s Julie, I kicked that bitch out. Sorry,” She sneered at him.

He almost yells that he’s not here for Julie. He couldn't care less about her. He’s here for you.

“You’re.. You’re not the captain. Where’s y/n?” 

Minnie’s smirk faded, as if his question shifted the mood. “You really don’t know, huh?”

He felt the first thump in his chest. “What?”

“Better ask her yourself.” 

With that, she left Renjun hanging. He couldn’t try and stop Minnie, asking her for any explanation because he felt like he was going to explode.

His lips fell ajar, as everything clicked.

You had an injury, and right after that you didn’t go to any of your practice, then Julie got kicked out and now Minnie’s replaced you as the captain.

He covers his mouth in realization, adding another layer of fear. He needs to find you.

Fortunately, Renjun doesn’t need to walk far. He had heard that you’re in the premises to watch the game, and the first place he had thought of was the gymnasium.

He finds you, sitting alone on the bleachers with a pair of pompoms on your side. You weren’t wearing your uniform.

“Y/n,” He whispers, yet the resonance of his voice echoes. He approaches you carefully, assessing the entire situation. He wants to be there for you, but he doesn’t want to force you if you want to be alone.

You look up at him, and when his eyes meet yours, he can just hear his heart break. You looked defeated. You look tired.

“Why aren’t you in uniform, Birdie?” He asks softly. Deep inside Renjun, he knew why. But he can’t accept it. Not when this is your life. Not when he knows it’ll break you to give up.

You slowly shake your head helplessly at him, on the verge of despair. Gripping both your hands on your knees, like you’re holding yourself together. 

“The game’s about to start–”

“I can’t, Renjun, I can’t dance anymore.” He takes a huge breath after hearing your voice break, and he takes two huge steps to reach you. He kneels before you, grabbing your cold hands. 

“There has got to be another way, baby. We’ll get you the best doctor out th–”

“I’m done with cheerleading, Renjun. I.. I can’t even fucking walk properly!” You broke down in front of him, and he swore he’d never felt so horrible in his life. His own tears betrayed him, but he doesn't care. When you, his entire world, is falling apart in his hands.

He pulls you in a tight embrace, letting you wet his shirt completely. Caressing your hair as he attempts to calm you, but in his mind, he’s also hanging by a thread– seeing you like this, completely giving up, breaks him to his core.

“What do I do now, Renjun? What–” you sobbed in between your words, and he bit his lip hearing you like this. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He closes his eyes, gently trying to soothe your shaking shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, my baby.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head repeatedly. 

At this moment, Renjun swears in his grave, that he will never forgive whoever did this to you.

And if your sweet smile never comes back after this, all hell will break loose. Because he’s never afraid of his own scars, but yours? Oh, that’s his deepest, darkest fear.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Neo Culture University Newsblog

“NCU’s Top Cheerleader, the captain of NCU Squadron, the first ever cheerleader to perform the highest basket toss in NCU cheerleading history, Y/N, L/N, famously known as The Bird, announces her departure from the squad after the incident at the first game between NCU vs SHU. 

Also known as Birdie, had suffered a career ending injury after falling whilst performing a routine last Thursday night. It was announced by the cheer committee that Hwang Youngmin will be replacing her as a captain of the squad.

Furthermore, investigations involving a former cheerleader who’s accused of sabotaging the Cheer Captain’s career, causing her to retire from cheerleading. Foul play is suspected, and we’ll be reporting more on it soon. So far, it has been confirmed that said cheerleader is now kicked out of the squad. Updates soon.”

Renjun is filled with nothing but rage.

That was your dream. That was your everything. And just for… a fucking bitch to ruin it all for you?

“Calm down, man. I’m sure the school will handle it.” Jeno, ever the mediator says. This was the first time his friends saw him this fuming.

“No. Fuck no. I want that bitch out of this school.” Renjun was adamant about kicking Julie out. He’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t step foot on this campus ever again. 

“Are we even sure about what happened—” Haechan attempts to cut in on the conversation but a sharp look from Renjun made him freeze.

“Do I look like I care? Accident or not, I’ll make sure she suffers. I’ll make up a dumb fucking reason, anything, to get her kicked out. I’ll fund the fucking investigation against her. I’ll make sure she pays for it. Whatever it takes.” His voice was dangerously calm. Every word carrying weight, every threat sounded like a promise.

It doesn’t matter to him now. He could lie and tell everybody he hates you, but nobody could ever hurt you like this. Not on his watch.

You could cheat on him a million times but he’ll never be angry enough to let this happen to you. Not when you were once his everything — not when you’re once his lifeline. Everyone else doesn’t matter. 

When it comes to you, he’d do worse.

Haechan, Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other, worried about what Renjun would do. They had never seen him filled with this much rage. It was horrifying, the lengths he’s willing to take for you. 

And deep inside, they knew that behind the cold exterior he always treated you with, is a man who is still deeply in love with you. 

Also, one common knowledge among them is never to mess with Renjun.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“Thank you, Ms. Lin! See you next monday,” You waved goodbye to your therapist, as you went out for your weekly physical therapy. 

After the surgery, it was really hard to adjust. You needed to use clutches for what it feels like forever, and there were restrictions that you needed to follow. The school granted you a scholarship, which was really awesome to hear. At least that was taken care of.

“Baby,” 

You look up front to see Renjun waiting for you in his car. You smiled at him and waved excitedly. He runs up to you, swiftly taking your bag with him.

“Right on time, impressive.” You sneer at him. He grabs your hand and hooks it over his arm. 

“I was here fifteen minutes early, baby.” He winks at you, giving you a light peck on the lips. You giggled, watching him open the car door for you. You put your injured knee first, before sitting with your entire body. 

“Where are we going?” You ask. He didn’t tell you about the plans today, but you didn’t bother to ask either. You just assumed he would take you back to his apartment and you’ll just burn a hole in his couch watching netflix the rest of the day.

You can never really pinpoint on when you and Renjun decided to get back together, or at least you think you’re back together. Ever since that day at the gymnasium, Renjun never left your side. You didn’t dare ask him what’s going on, afraid to ruin whatever it is.

You sat there, a bit uncertain on why Renjun still hasn’t started the car. You turn to him, looking for any reason as to why he just sat there gripping the steering wheel.

“Giselle called today,” He exhaled.

You widen your eyes in aghast. That’s a name you’ve never heard before. Or more accurately, that’s a name you wished to never hear of ever again. 

Nonetheless, you guessed this topic should be discussed sooner or later. You can’t always avoid the inevitable, hiding from the ghosts from the past. And you believe that the both of you are much more grown now to handle it  maturely.

“She saw the article, apparently. And uh, she told me.. Well, everything.” You take a deep breath.

You clear your throat and nodded, calculating on how you should go about the conversation. You’ve rehearsed begging him for forgiveness a thousand times before, however, you realize that you should just tell him what you feel at the moment. Not some rehearsed bullcrap, because Renjun deserves nothing but the raw truth from you.

“How’s Giselle? I hope they’re doing good,” You start with genuine curiosity. 

Renjun furrows his brows as he looks at you. “Baby, they gave you hell and you still wish them the best? I–I don’t think I can ever forgive them for ruining us, ever.” He claims, grabbing your hand, intertwining it and kissing the back of your palm.

You smile warmly at him. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll forgive them for the both of us.” 

He shook his head, disagreeing. “No. You’ll have to learn how to express anger for people who deserve it. You can’t let them get away every single time. They’d just do it all over again.” 

A semblance of a smile had gently flickered onto your lips as you admired him. “Alright, baby. I’ll try. But good thing you’re with me now, right? You can be the bad cop and I’d be the good cop!” 

Through his serious demeanor, a small smirk threatened to sneak its way on his mouth. 

“And I’m so sorry for treating you like shit. I was deep in my own hateful charade to mask the fact that I still wanted to be with you. I guess I was a puss–”

“Language, baby.” You faked an angry tone, but immediately smiled after. “Besides, I understand. I wouldn’t want to be seen with a person who cheated on–”

“You didn’t, baby. You quite literally had no choice.” He warned. 

“Okay, sure but you also have to let me earn your trust. At the end of the day, I still kissed somebody else when we’re together. But at the same time, I also feel terrible because it seemed like I sacrificed our own relationship for nothing.” 

Everytime you remind yourself of the decision you made when you were young, hurting the person you love, for something that was taken away from you way too soon, makes you feel so stupid. So disappointed in yourself. 

“I trust you with my life, baby. You’re responsible for me now, so don’t you dare leave me again. Okay? I love you.” 

Before you wallow in guilt, Renjun kissed you deeply and passionately. Your lips move in a rhythmic manner, as if it was a melody that played in the silence of your hearts, a song of tenderness and affection. 

“Shit, baby we should go. We’re going to be late,” He pulled away too early, despite your pleas and looked at his wristwatch. 

You turn your head in confusion. Do you have plans today? He didn’t say anything and began to drive. You were sitting in your seat demented, wondering where he’d take you. You try to familiarize the road he’s taking, but you are left clueless.

He stopped at an expensive looking hall, seemingly a restaurant, or an events place, honestly you’re not sure. There's a waitress waiting at the reception. Renjun just says his name, and the woman just nodded and smiled at you. You hesitantly smiled back, and that’s when she guided you inside.

“What is this?” Your heart is now pumping out your chest, as you try to figure out Renjun's plan. 

He just turns to you and puts his index fingers on his lips. The waitress stopped at a double door, knocked five times, odd to say the least, then gestured for Renjun to open the door. 

For a moment, Renjun unlinks your hands from his arms to open the door. And as soon as you took a step inside the dark room, a collective excitement shrieked as the lights turned on. 

“Congratulations, Birdie!” 

Your eyes widened, your mouth fell open as you saw everyone who ever mattered to you greets you with the widest smile as they held their own party prop. The confetti drowns you, but it doesn't baffle you. What touched you the most is your cheer squad, Minnie leading them as she blows the small horn. 

‘Celebrating Y/N “The Bird” L/N’s legacy in NCU Squad’ it says on a banner.

You covered your mouth and immediately broke down, Minnie running to you and hugging you so tight.

“Bitch, you’re gonna make me cry!” She whines as she tries to wipe your tears off your face.

You clutch your chest, being overwhelmed in joy. Sniffing silently as you greet the other people.

“There she is!” You hear Coach Evie emerging from the crowd, embracing you.

“Thank you, Coach.”

“You’re by far the best cheerleader I’ve seen in my career. But I know you’re much better than just being a cheerleader. Please remain as hopeful as you were before, Birdie.” She says, making you sob even more. You murmured more gratitude to her.

“Uh-Uhm.” You look at someone clearing their throat beside you, and you see an awkward Haechan standing there looking at his feet. Renjun harshly nudges him forward to you, Jeno and Jaemin smirking behind him.

“I apologize for my behavior, and I regret everything I have said that’s hateful towards you. I wish we could get along and be friends. And again, I’m sorry.” He says, almost robotic, and most people would find it insincere, but you just chuckled.

“Did Renjun ask you to memorize that?” 

“Renjun asked more, actually. He was supposed to kneel, Birdie. Just wait for it..” Jaemin snickers, Jeno laughing at the entire thing.

“Psh. It’s fine, Haechan. I forgive you.” You say in the middle of a laugh, finding it almost adorable how Haechan is scared of Renjun. Somehow, it just makes sense.

It was Jeno’s turn to hug you, “Congrats, Birdie.” He’s always been soft and composed. You always appreciated that about him.

“Come here! Congratulations Birdie!!” Jaemin runs to you and embraces you, spinning you around. You yelp, not expecting it but Renjun quickly holds Jaemin’s shoulder as he pulls you from him.

“Not too much on my girl, dude!” Renjun shouts, as if Jaemin just kidnapped you in broad daylight. Jaemin carefully puts you down, pointing at Renjun with a mischievous smile splattered all over his face.

“Ooh, Is our Renjun jealous?” 

The three of them clowned Renjun on, “It’s just–! She’s injured!” He says in defense. 

As much as you want to watch him have fun with his friends, you’re afraid what’s on your mind can’t wait any longer.

“Baby,” You gently pull at his hand. He whipped his head towards you quickly.

You caress his furrowed brows, smoothing it then caressing his cheeks. In the middle of the chaos, the noise and the sea of people, you looked at him as if you two were the only people in the room.

His eyes fill your chest with warmth, the familiarity of his touch calming your soul, and the comfort of his smile soothes your entire wellbeing. He is your solace, and you won’t ever fucking do anything to hurt him, ever again. 

“I love you,” You say, silently, eliciting a smile from him. He leans down, kissing you with intensity, almost sparking a flame between the two of you. You hear the crowd cheering, as you two pull away.

“I love you, and you will never be unloved by me. I’m sorry baby but you’re stuck with me. Be my girlfriend again?” He asks loud enough for just the two of you. You nod eagerly, kissing him again.

That’s when you felt the world cheer for your happiness. It’s now clear to you that your happiness is with him. Not with cheerleading, not with anything else. Your dream could change, your future could give you the biggest plot twist ever known to man, but one thing’s for sure. 

Just as long as you’re with Renjun, you’re gonna be okay.

To: My dearest Renjun,

I will love you in this lifetime, and the next, because forever doesn’t seem enough. My love, you’re worth it all. xoxo

-y/n

-end-

MARK is the busiest man you know. As his girlfriend, you were perfectly aware of his failure to properly manage all his activities. To him what mattered was staying afloat. Even though your time together was limited due to his schedule, you didn’t mind waiting for him to come home at the end of the day. He had made a huge effort to carve out time from his hectic lifestyle to make space for you and this was the most you could ask for. Because of this, time with Mark is valuable. Every second spent with him is thought out with love.

Your birthday is the most overloaded season regarding Mark’s schedule. With the demand for new music, constant touring, and endless practices, you didn’t expect much for him to surprise you. All that you wished for was at least some time to be spent with your loving boyfriend. But as you sat on the couch the whole day – ignoring requests to hang out with your friends in hopes Mark would pull through, expecting him to come home with a surprise straight from practice – the time was ticking closer to midnight and he was still nowhere to be seen. 

He was out of the house before he could even wish you a happy birthday. No note was left, breakfast wasn’t made, and all the chores were still left unfinished. As far as you knew, Mark hadn’t even come home from the previous night. As you sit on the sofa, envious of his bandmates who got to spend the fleeting days with him, you begin to regret waiting for you to matter enough to him. You could’ve spent the whole day catching up with friends, instead, you waited for your boyfriend who didn’t even care to send a simple “happy birthday” text.

Waiting got tiring and you only became more pissed. Just as you were about to reach your bed with your tears flowing down your face, you hear Mark enter, sounding exhausted from the day’s workload.

“Baby, I’m home,” he called across the apartment, only loud enough to hear from the room you were in. 

A sliver of you still had hope that he would surprise you with some form of greeting, but as his footsteps clicked closer to your shared bedroom and he had nothing in hand, all the hope had left your body. 

He sighed as he approached your tired figure, “Falling asleep already?”

It was obvious he didn’t even remember what was so special about today. A part of you wanted to slice at his throat for forgetting such an important date. Instead, you opted for peace, already feeling more tears threatened to spill.

“Yeah, had a long day.” you uttered, trying not to sound heartbroken. You couldn’t gain the courage to confront Mark. All you could do was tuck yourself under the covers and cry yourself to sleep while your loved one went about clueless.

RENJUN wasn’t one to open up to others about his feelings. You were the only one that he felt was worthy of sharing his deepest thoughts with. One of his being the fact he always felt distant from his friends. When he moved away from home he had broken a lot of his relationships and had difficulty rebuilding them. When Renjun told you he would be going out this weekend with his friends, you didn’t think much of it – other than the fact it was your birthday.

You knew not to become too hopeful when it came to surprises. You weren’t a little kid and you were aware that you’ll most likely get what you want by just asking. Although you knew this, you still thought that Renjun might possibly surprise you. However, you should’ve known better. 

When Renjun arrived home with nothing in his hands but shopping bags and a filled stomach, you knew he had forgotten a date that was so important to you. “Renjun, how was it?” you asked him excitedly, to the best of your abilities.

He smiled as he walked over to your spot on the couch, setting down his bags beside you on the coffee table. “We had a lot of fun. Had to catch up on lots though, who would’ve known how much my boys have grown.” 

You knew it was wrong to ruin his joy, but you had to get straight to the point. “Did you get anything while you were there?” You didn’t acknowledge his rambling about his friends, instead wanted to know if the bags held something for you to make up for his actions.

“Yeah, just some new clothes for the summer. They said they wanted to match-”

Before he could even finish his sentence you walked yourself to your room. Getting mad at him would only make matters worse so you did what your best at and removed yourself from the situation.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he tried to see what you were doing.

You continued to change and gather your belongings, clear what your intentions were. “Going out. Not wasting my special day waiting for you.” Before he could even process your words, you slammed the door in his face. Renjun knew he fucked up.

JENO is your homebody boyfriend – he loves spending time with you and cozying up in bed. It is rare he got to do so, though, as a lot of hours are filled with his idol lifestyle. He was expected to stay on top of his numerous schedules and manage time with his girlfriend. This is a lot of responsibility for a man like Jeno. 

You quite honestly didn’t expect much from him considering how busy he would be on your birthday. The date happened to fall on a Saturday when they were holding a concert. You were aware he would be extremely tired and might even not have time to hang out with you afterward. The least you expected with for him to send you a birthday greeting but you had received nothing and the concert had already begun. 

Being the loving girlfriend you were, you had arrived at the concert to support your boyfriend. When the other boys saw you they even made the effort to wish you a happy birthday. All of them but your own boyfriend, the reason you were even hear right now. 

The stadium was filled to the brim with adolescent teens to elderly couples. This was most definitely not your scene but you wanted to spend your birthday with the one you loved. You had brought your friends along as they also wanted to hang out. Even though you had so many people around you celebrating your life, you couldn’t help but feel worthless for not meaning anything to the one you loved most. 

When the concert ended you had excused yourself from your friends for the night to meet up with Jeno. Pushing yourself backstage was a difficult task after trying to scooch past all the fans and security. As soon as you had managed to locate Jeno backstage, you were told to wait outside by his managers, Jeno making no effort to halt their actions. 

You waited hours for him to finally exit the dressing room but to no avail, he never came out. 

“Y/n, what are you doing out here?” Jaemin saw you sitting on the bench you had positioned yourself on for the time being. 

It was silly he was asking such a question, he had to of known why you were here in the first place. “Just waiting for Jeno. Is he almost done?”

Jaemin had a shift of energy as if something had clicked in his mind upon your words. “He left a while out the back. I can go find him, he probably is still in here. I’m sorry he didn’t come to see you he probably forgot.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it Nana. Thanks for telling me.” You quickly gathered your belongings before he could even have a chance to comfort you. There was a time and a place for everything and crying in front of him on your birthday was definitely not something you had wished for. 

You refused to wait for Jeno any longer, he obviously never did the same for you. As you left the stadium all your emotions exited your body. How could someone you love break your heart so terribly?

HAECHAN is a family man at heart. He never failed to mention his siblings in a conversation and made sure to keep up with them when time allowed. This was something that drew you towards your boyfriend. Seeing his love for domesticity made you feel like you had found the man who would lead you in the future.

Funny enough, you had managed to be birthed the same day as his sister he loved so dearly. Obviously, it wasn't a coincidence that he would constantly mention his sister’s birthday and what he was planning on gifting her. What you did begin to question was his lack of mention of your own special date. 

It wasn’t uncommon for couples to not do much on each other’s birthdays, but your relationship was Haechan was not typical dating. He cared for you deeply, at least to the extent you thought. Each date was carved to cater to your liking and surprise you each time. You knew your birthday would be an even more special day for him which is why you weren’t surprised when you came home on the date with party streamers covering the house and an entourage of his family.

“Baby your home,” Haechan noticed your entrance and shocked face.

You smiled as you embraced him into a tight hug, “Thanks for doing this all for me. I love you.”

He laughed at your response, slight confusing you. “It’s my sister’s birthday, you know how much these days mean to us.”

Even though you were confused by Haechan's response, you did know you were happy he didn’t let you down in the end. He never wished you a happy birthday but you were sure a surprise party would make up for it.

As the party ensued and time for cake came, the lights were turned off and Haechan appeared out of the corridor with the candle lit sweet. You were standing next to his sister as you were greeting her a happy birthday. As he approached you with the cake you couldn’t help but notice your name was spelt wrong on the cake. Oh wait. It wasn’t even your name at all. He had never even remembered your birthday to begin with.

JAEMIN had mentioned your birthday to you on numerous occasions. He loved planning time with you and never failed to make sure each date was tailored to your liking. When he had asked you where you had wanted to dine in on your birthday, you weren’t surprised in the slightest by his actions to make sure the day was perfect for you. He had even made sure to pick an outfit for you to match and he already knew what gifts you wanted without asking.

As the days ticked down to the date, Jaemin didn’t seem to get any more excited. Typically, he would be all over you explaining the details of how excited he was to spend time with his loving girlfriend. When the day finally turned to be your birthday, you noticed he still was not making an effort to mention your planned date.

“Good morning my love,” Jaemin had greeted as soon as your eyes fluttered awake. 

You smiled, awaiting the day ahead of you, “What have you got on your mind today?” You knew Jaemin would have the whole day planned and wouldn’t be able to contain his joy. 

“Just happy I get to spend time at home with my love this morning. I got to go to practice later, though,” he replied as he pulled you closer under the covers.

You knew Jaemin had mentioned going out so you were surprised by his words. Jaemin wasn’t the type to cancel all your plans for work, he was adamant about making time for you. The last thing you had expected was for him to postpone your birthday for something so small.

“Can’t you just miss practice today?” You questioned slightly agitated. As much as you know work is important to him, it felt right to at least be somewhat selfish of your time with him. 

“No can do. You know these are a non-negotiable.” 

You could tell he was taken aback by your response. He had just wanted to make the most of his day with you before he had gone to practice, and who were you to avoid wishes. You could accept his business for at least an effort to make time for you. 

As you spent the fleeting moments with Jaemin, you couldn’t help but notice nothing about your day was going as planned. No presents were awaiting you at the table, not a single of your favorite meals was dished up by your favorite chef, and no greeting was uttered out of his mouth. 

The day had continued on as normal until he left for practice. Maybe he would bring you the gifts and dinner when he got back? Much to your dismay, he arrived home in the same state he was in before, just much more tired. 

As he tucked himself into bed next to you, you couldn’t help but feel the need to ask him about the change in his attitude. But before you could even question him, he gave you the answer you were searching for. “I feel like I forgot about something today.”

Damn right, you had forgotten something Na Jaemin.

CHENLE was never one to back down from an argument. He always made sure he was right even if it meant hurting others along the way, including his own girlfriend. Because of his ungodly ego, you two got into numerous fights. It was a red flag but he always managed to earn your forgiveness. His love language was gift giving and he never failed to surprise you with the most extravagant items. 

Most of your fights would end within a few hours, but this was different. You two had been arguing about his lack of care regarding setting aside time for you. He was busy, but so was everyone else in the world – he is perfectly capable of putting in the extra effort yet he lacks to do so. 

With your birthday on the rise, you had expected him to forgive you relatively quickly. Instead, you two had still not spoken a word since the day of your fight into your birthday. You were aware Chenle was stubborn, but you couldn’t believe he was this difficult. 

You should’ve taken the warning from others about your toxic habits. Even though time was running out you still felt like Chenle would end up pulling through. He always refused to bite the bullet and message you first, so this time you wanted to see how long it would take him to come crawling back. When it took multiple days, you knew he wouldn’t be speaking to you anytime soon.

Y/n: what the fuck is your problem Y/n: do you even know what today is? Chenle: was waiting for you to finally apologize Chenle: what’s so special about today Y/n: it’s my birthday

You couldn’t believe that Chenle would be so adamant about his stance he would even forget your own birthday. When you saw the bubbles appear indicating him typing his response, you didn’t pay any mind to it. Protecting your peace, you powered off your phone and chose silence to celebrate the remaining of your day.

When you heard a knock on your door no longer than 30 minutes after texting Chenle, you knew it had to be him. But you had no room left in you to listen to his excuses. If he wanted to prove himself, he should’ve done so before.

JISUNG was never the type to put his best friend over you. He always ensured you were his number one priority and his numerous date nights made you guarantee this. His best friend since childhood happened to be extremely possessive of him. Her intentions were clear, but your boyfriend was always too oblivious to notice. 

There were multiple occasions where she had uttered the most absurd comments to your face. Time and time again, Jisung had never stood up for you. You should have taken this as a red flag but you knew your boyfriend loved you dearly –  who were you to let a random girl get in your way?

Your birthday was around the corner and Jisung had not yet mentioned any plans regarding the day. He had mentioned a couple of things in the past but nothing that stuck out recently. When the day of your birthday arrived, the atmosphere remained the same. 

You had mentioned to him you were going to spend the day out with your friends and he didn’t question it. Before you could leave the house, he was already out for the day, not giving you a chance to even greet him good morning. It was odd for him to be out so early but you knew better than to think so deeply into it. 

When you arrived home you had noticed another car in the driveway – his best friend’s car. You were never one to be selfish but spending time with her on your birthday was the last thing you would ever wish for. 

You had still not received any messages from Jisung and you were starting to grow more concerned. Before you could enter your shared apartment, you were immediately greeted by the girl you wished to avoid.

“About time you showed up,” she eyed you head to toe, shutting the door behind you.

Her attitude never failed to surprise you. Nevertheless, you still played into her tricks, “I’m just getting back from the mall. You know, celebrating my birthday.”

She laughed at your comment, “Oh, poor Jisung must have forgotten. He hasn’t mentioned you all day.” She didn’t even offer any explanation as she pushed past you to exit the building, smirking on her way out.

You were aware she was a snarky bitch but you couldn’t believe she had the courage to make up such a lie. A part of you wanted to push past the door and confront your boyfriend and the other wanted to go after her like she was your prey.