#shotaro fluff

“But whyyyyy,” you whined, scooting closer on the couch and giving him that look—head tilted, lower lip pouting, eyelashes fluttering. “I just wanna see how it looks on you!”

“I’m not your practice doll,” he grumbled, though he didn’t budge when you climbed into his lap. “Baby—seriously—no.”

You propped your chin on his shoulder, voice soft and pleading. “Please? Just once? I got all this new makeup and you have such a pretty face.”

His ears turned pink. “That’s not—” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“It is,” you said sweetly. “Because you love me.”

He tried to hold your gaze like he wasn’t melting inside, but after a beat of silence, he finally slumped back against the cushions, defeated. “…Fine. But only because you’re cute.”

“Yay!” you squealed, hugging him tight. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“Please don’t tell the guys,” he muttered under his breath as you dug out your brushes.

You sat on his thighs and carefully started with a little concealer on the tip of your finger. Eunseok kept trying to look away, but every time you cupped his cheek to turn his face back, he went bright red.

“You’re not even letting me see,” you complained, dabbing under his eyes.

“Because you’re staring at me like you’re about to eat me,” he grumbled, eyes flicking up to glare at you—but you could tell he was fighting a smile.

When you finally picked up the little peach blush, he actually groaned. “Baby, no. Please. Not that one.”

“It’s going to look so cute, I promise.”

“No. I—”

“Love.”

“…Fine.”

You gently swept it over his cheekbones, trying not to giggle at how his expression pinched in pure embarrassment.

“You look like a little fairy,” you teased, tapping his nose with the brush.

“Stop,” he whined, voice muffled as he covered his face with both hands. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“And you secretly love it,” you teased, prying his fingers away. “Look at you, blushing and everything.”

When you picked up your lip tint, he looked like he was about to jump out the window.

“Absolutely not.”

“Seok.”

“No.”

“Eunseok,” you repeated, leaning closer so your lips almost brushed his. “Please, baby?”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing. “…Just this once.”

You pressed the tiniest bit of coral gloss onto his lips with your finger, then sat back to admire your work, heart squeezing because he looked so endearingly shy.

“Can I take a picture?” you asked in a hushed voice, feeling a little shy yourself.

“…You already know the answer.”

“Okay, I won’t.” You set down the lip tint and smoothed a hand through his hair, your voice softening. “You really do look handsome, though.”

He finally opened his eyes to look at you—and the way he softened, the way his shoulders relaxed, made your chest feel too small for your heart.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured.

“You do,” you whispered back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I love you too.”

He pulled you closer, big hands splayed over your back, letting you nuzzle into his neck.

“…Are we done now?” he asked, sounding exhausted.

“One more thing!” You grabbed a tiny hello kitty hair clip and clipped it to his hair.

He just sighed—long-suffering, resigned, but with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“Cute,” you said, giggling as you traced the flush on his cheek. “My pretty boy.”

And even though he groaned and tried to hide behind his hands again, he didn’t push you away.

Because no matter how much he grumbled—he’d let you do anything, as long as it made you happy.

you turn your head up from where you’re sat, eyes glancing upwards to find minjeong looking down at you, cello and bow in hand.

“you’ll do great.” she says softly before leaving. 

“thank you..” you reply, voice so quiet you hardly even knew if she could hear it, probably already out of ear shot.

hyuna turns to you, “did you guys fight again?”

you simply shrug, “you could say that.”

–

one by one, members of the orchestra walk onto the stage, all of them giving small bows and nods to the audience and taking their respective seats according to their instruments, anton finds minjeong sat in the first seat, in front of the rest of the cellist. he feels his stomach churn looking at her, willing his eyes to look somewhere else, to take his mind off of his friend that he’s mostly definitely not here to see.

you enter, standing by the steinway, taking a deep bow to the audience before standing beside the piano.

then enters the conductor, anton watches with curiosity as the rest of the orchestra stands, eyes glued to you as the conductor bows to the audience, watching you and the conductor share a handshake before you settle down onto the piano, hands raised, resting on the keys.

anton stares at your face, and in a split second, he knows. you are exactly where you need to be.

it becomes silent, the blanket of quietness falling over the audience as each of the musicians mounts their instruments, all of them poised and ready to begin.

and thus, it began. 

anton glances down at the pamphlet they were provided with, information about the concerto written down as he curiously takes note of it.

piano concerto no. 2 in c minor, op. 18 – by sergei rachmaninoff.

the first movement starts, anton watches you in anticipation, your resting position soon changing as the opening chords of the piano ring in the theatre, it’s heavy. it sounds almost like bells echoing in an empty space, the weight of the piece pouring down on the audience. the type of weight that feels like hesitation, or fear. 

the orchestra enters, like a breath of cold wind, a sweeping theme that yearns, notes played in succession that spoke to anton’s heart, like someone who’s finally letting out emotions they’ve held for too long.

and the piano doesn’t seem to accompany it; it sounds like it’s arguing, confessing, pushing back. your eyes are closed, but you’ve played this a million times, muscle memory tethering you to reality. perhaps, could it be that you’re playing with this much emotion than you ever have because anton’s watching? 

you try not to think about it. after all, you’re the same person pushing him back in fear of your sister, all those times he’s pursued you and all those times you kept thinking about how minjeong would feel. 

your thoughts turn sour. 

the first movement ends, but nothing is fully resolved, in your heart, your mind or in the piece.

the second and the third movements pass by anton, encaptured by the beauty of the piece as well as the person playing, he doesn’t even realise everyone else has gotten up and are currently giving you and the rest of the orchestra who’s now standing and bow, a standing ovation. 

he quickly stands up, face flushing a deep red as he clutches on to the flowers by his arms, clapping softly as he stares up at you. this piece made him realise how much he was holding back.

and he wouldn’t anymore.

he holds onto his flowers, straightening out the bouquet as the old lady beside him laughs softly, he turns to her in surprise. 

“anything funny?” he smiles at her.

the old lady merely shakes her hand, “you seem to have been enamoured by the pianist.”

“wouldn’t you say you were too?” 

“enough to get flowers? maybe not.”

anton blushes, looking down at his fingers, his ring finger bleeding after having been pricked by one of the thorns in the bouquet as he curses quietly, turning to the old lady as he clears his throat, “i’m a good friend of hers.”

she simply smiles.

“i hope you take good care of her.”

anton pauses, “I…will.”

she leaves without saying another word.

—

anton waits by the venue, finding a park not too far away as he turns the bouquet of flowers in his hands, his bleeding finger now covered in a flimsy tissue paper he found by the frontdesk. 

he glances up at the sky. it’s getting dark…

had you already left?

he turns to smell the flowers, thankfully they had retained their fragrance through the show, it’d be a shame if they hadn’t.

“anton?” 

he looks up, heart skipping a beat, excited-

minjeong stares at him, cello in a case behind her as she leans forward slightly due to the weight of it.

“i didn’t know you were coming.” 

anton looks away, scratching his neck. 

“surprise?”

minjeong smiles at him as she takes a seat beside anton, staring at him for a moment as she nods to the flowers. 

“those, who are they for?”

anton stares at her, wondering if he should tell the truth or lie. 

“yn.” 

as much as anton hated the fact that minjeong had recently been having a bad streak of being an asshole, he couldn’t lie to her.

minjeong stares at him before laughing, nodding as she runs a hand through her hair.

“i gotta give it to you, you’re persistent.”

anton’s eyebrows furrow. 

“what do you mean?”

minjeong pauses, her shoulders slumping slightly as she takes a deep breath, sighing as she turns to him.

“It’s just, you know,” she gestures around vaguely, “i’ve been…everything but nice lately, to you, to everyone..”

“and yn,” anton adds, helpfully. 

minjeong shoots him a look, before sighing, nodding, “and yn.” 

“and usually that scares every other guy away,” she continues, staring up at the night sky.

“but you’re still here,” she says, turning to him.

“i appreciate that.” she finishes. 

anton stares at her for a while as he turns the bouquet of flowers in his hand, mentally sighing of relief that she wasn’t here to give him yet another lecture. 

“i really like your sister.” anton says, his voice soft, barely over a whisper.

“i can tell.”

anton presses his lips into a thin line, preparing himself for the worst.

“can i please have your blessings?” anton asks, palms sweaty as he grips his formal pants tightly, looking up at her, his eyes shining with hope.

minjeong’s eyes widen in disbelief, sitting straighter as she points at herself, “you’re asking me? after everything I’ve done?” she asks.

anton glances away, “if i were being completely honest, i’m still mad at you,”

minjeong nods, “i can understand that.” 

“but at the end of the day, you’re still yn’s sister.” 

minjeong stares at him for a moment, processing his words as she turns to her cello case, her fingers running down the black leather. she didn't have to think much about it, she has already made a decision.

she gives him a small smile, chuckling as she gets up, patting his head as she ruffles his hair, “you have all my blessings, toni.”

anton looks up at her, grumbling softly as he tries to fix his hair, thanking her before she leaves, waving him goodbye. 

just in time. 

you spot anton. 

“hey!” you run over to his side, stopping by the bench in the park as you glance in minjeong’s direction, watching her slip past you again, her retreating figure getting smaller and smaller in the distance. 

you look at anton curiously, “was that minjeong?” 

he nods, turning to you with a smile, “but, forget that, you did so well!” he praises, standing up from the bench he was sitting on to give you a hug.

you blush, tightening your arms around his neck as you gently pull away, laughing as you shake your head, “i’m glad you could make it despite it being your birthday and all...” 

anton smiles, “what do you mean? this is my birthday gift.” 

you roll your eyes, taking a seat beside him as you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, and the flimsy tissue paper wrapped around his ring finger.

he notices you staring and before you can even bring it up, he directs the bouquet towards you as he smiles, “i hope you like them, i had them picked out earlier today.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and you helped and got your finger pricked?”

anton pauses, glancing down at his finger, “oh, no this happened right after the show.”

you blink at him, taking the bouquet of flowers as you give it a smell, the aroma of freshly picked flowers infiltrating your senses as you laugh, turning to him, “i love them.”

his grin widens, “you’re welcome.”

you hold onto the bouquet of flowers, turning them around in your hands in wonder as you turn to him, suddenly apologetic, “i know it’s your birthday but i feel like it’s more about me than it is you.”

anton leans back on the bench, watching the rest of the audience of the show and orchestra members alike walking in batches, all whispering and chatting amongst themselves. 

“it’s your big day.”

“but it’s your birthday.”

anton smiles, turning to you, “does it bother you?” he asks, tilting his head.

you nod, “yes, i mean, i’d hate to be the reason why you don’t get to spend a good birthday.”

anton laughs, sitting up straighter, leaning against his knees as he places his hand against his chin, “then grant me a wish.” 

you blink at him.

“what?”

his grin turns cheekier by the minute, “you heard me.”

you run a hand across your face. you forget that this is, in fact, anton you’re dealing with. you stifle a laugh, rolling your eyes as you turn to him.

“okay, tell me, what’s your wish?”

anton stays silent for a while, just staring at you before he says softly, his voice carrying into the night.

“a kiss, if you’d consent to it.” 

you freeze, eyes widening as your hands tighten around the bouquet, swallowing thickly, your cheeks heating up as you stare at him. 

“a-are you serious-?” 

“am i ever unserious with you?” 

you glare at him, “yeah, you are, actually.” 

anton pauses, before laughing again, “oh, right, my bad.”

he continues, pleasant in the way he stares up at you, “no pressure though, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

you turn to him, your words falling out of your mouth before you can help it, “n-no, i’ll do it.” your voice trembles, your fingers tightening on your dress as you refuse to meet his eyes.

“without even looking at me?” anton asks, eyebrows rising in amusement at your shy demeanour.

“shut up, do you want it or not?” you grumble, getting up as you dust off your dress, sighing as you close your eyes, running a hand down your face for good measure, standing in front of anton. 

anton simply smiles in delight, looking up at you as you stand between his legs, tilting his head back a little as he hums, “sorry, i do want it.” 

you stare at him, “how bad?”

anton laughs, “how bad?”

you nod, “yeah, how bad do you want it?”

he hums for a moment, “hm, out of a 10, i’d say a 10.” he says, staring up at you with that grin of his that makes you weak in your knees. 

you sigh, bending down to reach where he’s sat on the bench as you gulp slowly, inching nearer to his face as your fingers gently wrap around his nape, pulling him closer. 

“close your eyes.”

anton frowns, “what if you run away?”

you huff, flicking his forehead as he winces, whining as he presses a hand over the place where you flicked it. 

“ouch…”

“i’ll kiss it better in a minute, calm down.”

he smiles wider at that, finally closing his eyes, heeding to your request as he gently waits for you to close the distance.

you take the liberty to stare at his face, your eyes trailing down his long lashes, the slope of his nose and his full lips, gently pulling him in as you place your lips over his, a soft light touch.

but before you know it, anton’s hand snakes over your waist, pulling you in as he kisses you deeper, grinning like a madman as he gently tugs you closer. 

you seem to make a noise of surprise, something at which he laughs at as he gently pulls away. 

“if it matters, i got minjeong’s blessing before.”

“i didn’t ask!”

"oh, also you didn't kiss my forehead better yet,"

"i'm going home."

24 : wishlist

SUMMARY : anton lee was your sister's best friend. he was supposed to be off limits, you were supposed to be off limits. in the midst of trying to pretend like you're not catching feelings for each other, your sister's already starting to notice, and she doesn't know what to feel about it. and it's probably for a good reason.

(a/n): hehe double update

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As you sat on the train on your usual commute home from work, you felt your phone buzz in your hand, drawing your attention away from the passing views.

[taro 🤎: hey]

Your throat tightened at just the contact name. Your last texts before this were from over seven months ago, arranging for him to pick up a couple things he’d left at your place. That afternoon was somehow both a blur and permanently etched into your memory—he was a only here for a few hurried moments, in a rush because he was on his way to the airport to catch his flight, stepping past the threshold just enough to take the items and you in his arms, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple, then running off with his things and without you, throwing you a goodbye over his shoulder.

[you: hey ?]

[taro 🤎: this is shotaro btw]

[you: lol i know, i didn’t delete your number]

[you: everything ok?]

[taro 🤎: attached image.]

[taro 🤎:  mayu asked to invite you]

You opened the picture to find that it was a colorful invitation to his little sister’s eighth birthday party next weekend at his parents’ house. You’d known her since she was born, having attended all her other birthdays and been around for her whole life. You were sure that this had all been very confusing for her. First quickly checking your calendar to make sure you didn’t have anything else that day, you then texted Shotaro back.

[you: aw omg i would LOVE to come!!]

[taro 🤎: she’ll be thrilled, thanks. i’ll let my parents know]

[you: we should talk first tho. are you free this weekend?]

You couldn’t sit still, anxiously pacing around your apartment and finding random things to tidy up over and over again. Shotaro was coming over today at your request—well, the meeting was your request, the location was his suggestion. You had expected to be scheduling a phone call around timezones and work schedules, but he was apparently already in town. When he asked to come over for your talk, you were a little wary, offering up a coffee shop or something, figuring that there was so much still lingering in this place, but he pointed out that some privacy would be nice. And that was hard to argue.

Really, no matter where you met, there would be so much still between you, around you. More than two decades of so much, overflowing the walls of anywhere that held the two of you.

The doorbell rang, and your stomach twisted. You hurried to open the door, glad that your jaw was already clenched tight or else your heart would’ve leapt right out of your mouth. This had been the longest you’d ever gone in your whole life without seeing Osaki Shotaro, and it felt like you were finally breathing air again when he smiled at you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you quietly but in an upbeat tone.

“Your hair’s longer…” You reached for the ends that were starting to cover his ears.

He let you mess with his hair, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get it cut.”

“I like it.” The words left your mouth before you could think about them, before you even realized they were a thought.

It was always so natural with Shotaro, so easy. You’d been practically of one mind for your whole lives. You always knew that you’d pick each other for group projects in school, and carpool to parties in college, and that you’d live together after the dorms. That’s why kissing him the first time had hardly taken a second thought, chatting late one night in his room in your tiny two-bedroom apartment, completely sober. Only a split second of surprise from him before he went back in for another, and another, and the conversation at hand was entirely forgotten. And when you moved on some time later from just kissing between bedsheets to out in public, holding hands, that had also been easy.

Which, you figure, is why it had been so easy to end up back here, under your sheets, Shotaro’s chest sticking to your back as his arm loosely encircled your waist.

“So that’s what you meant by ‘privacy,’” you joked breathlessly.

“And that’s what you meant by ‘talk’, hm?” He teased you right back.

“I missed you, Shotaro,” you admitted softly, turning onto your back so you could look at him. “And I don’t just mean like this, I mean—”

“I know.” He nodded and swallowed. “We’ve always been us, even before everything. I missed you too.”

“Do you want to try to be us again? Or, figure out what us, now looks like?” You suggested. “Because I don’t like it so far. Actually, I really hate it.”

He let out a breathy, cynical chuckle. “Same. Too lonely.”

“I want to hear all about how Italy has been treating you. And your new job.” You mustered up a smile. “You’ve got to show me pictures of all the cool places you’ve been.”

A phone rang from somewhere on the floor then, and Shotaro sighed. “Sorry, that’s me.” After scavenging his phone from amidst the mess of clothes, he stated regretfully, “It’s Sungchan…”

“Usually I’d say he can wait, but I’m sure he’s missed you too,” you said, a fond smirk tugging at the corner of your lip at the mention of Shotaro’s other best friend. You were number one, of course. The call rang to voicemail as he hastily pulled his clothes back on, you following at a much slower pace. You only had your big hoodie on as he was already heading for the door.

At the front door, you two lingered in the threshold for a moment, his hand hovering over the handle as his eyes scanned your features over and over again. You grabbed his shoulder, pulling him closer to peck his cheek.

“See you next week,” you promised. “Text me if you need something before, okay?”

“Yeah, next week.” He nodded. “See you then.”

Shotaro was already calling Sungchan as he was turning down the hall, and you watched his back until he disappeared into the stairwell.

[jung sungchan 🥈: so]

[you: so ?]

[jung sungchan 🥈: i heard you and shotaro met up yesterday]

[you: yeah he’s in town for his sister’s birthday and i’m invited to the party so we figured we should talk before]

[jung sungchan 🥈: right]

[you: either say whatever it is you want to say or leave me alone omfg]

[jung sungchan 🥈: nothing, just thought it was interesting]

“‘Interesting’, my ass,” you scoffed under your breath, slamming your front door shut behind you.

The truth was, Shotaro hadn’t left your mind all day long. Now that he was here, back in the same town as you again, you couldn’t focus on anything. The first month after he left, you had been a mess, admittedly, but it got easier. All that progress was just out the window, and before you knew it, you were calling him.

“Hey,” he answered immediately, leaving you no time to think about what you were doing. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uhm, I just got home from work,” you said, hanging your purse off the back of one of your kitchen chairs as you traversed the span of your apartment to get the bedroom. “Are you busy? I was thinking we could do dinner or something…?”

“I’d love to.” His smile was evident in his voice. “I’ll pick something up on my way over.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he echoed.

You caught a glimpse of the lovestruck smile on your face as you passed by the mirror in the corner.

Shotaro hadn’t just picked something up on his way, you realized as you pulled away from hugging him hello, spotting the bag in his hands. It was your favorite takeout place, a couple blocks away from your apartment—in the opposite direction of Shotaro’s family’s house. You didn’t comment on it, simply smiling and motioning for him to go sit in the living room while you grabbed your drinks.

“I can get my own,” he insisted, opening up the correct cabinet on his first try and bringing down two glasses. “I used to live here, too.”

“I know, I know,” you said, shaking your head fondly. “But what if I had moved all the dishes around since then?”

“That would’ve been really funny,” he agreed with a grin. “Too bad you didn’t plan that far ahead to prank me.”

You poured your drinks into the two mugs that he had fetched—matching souvenirs from a vacation you took a couple years ago. A street vendor had custom painted them for the two of you, half the design on your mug and the other half on Shotaro’s. You smiled bittersweetly to yourself as you took yours, and Shotaro brought his into the living room. He unpacked all the food, and you again noted that he’d not only gotten food from your favorite place, but had even splurged on getting your favorite dessert off the menu too.

“Thanks for all this, Taro.” You picked up your container of food.

“Ah, it’s the least I could do.” He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Aren’t your family missing you at dinner?”

“Mayu had a parent-teacher conference at school tonight, so you actually saved me from eating alone,” he said. “What have you been up to?”

“Hmm… Trying to think of the most noteworthy stuff over the past seven months…” You hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of food and washing it down before you perked up. “Oh! I got a promotion!”

“Congrats!” He held his hand out for you to high-five zealously. “That’s awesome, you deserve it. What’s your role now?”

“Regional Director of Systems Incorporation,” you rattled off your official title. “I’m overseeing the inter-office collaborations and communications for the whole region instead of just in my office.”

“Did Ms. Jo retire then? Finally?”

“Yes, finally,” you chuckled at the memory of your elderly mentor whose position you were now in. “She had her first great-grandchild and decided that maybe enough was enough.”

He whistled lowly. “How old was she anyway?”

“She worked at the company for over fifty years, if that gives you any idea.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I hope they don’t expect that kind of dedication from me,” you snorted. “Thirty years maximum for me, thanks.”

“Are you still volunteering?”

“Yeah, I am. They offered me a paid position at the organization, but I had to decline. As much as I love those kids, it would’ve been like a 70% pay cut.” You shook your head regretfully. “Just not sustainable, you know?”

He nodded in understanding. “Of course. But at least you can still go out there, even with your promotion.”

“And the position they were offering would put me in the back office like all the time—I’d never get to be with the kids.”

“How is your family doing?”

“Same old, same old,” you sighed. “They still ask me if I’ve heard from you at least once a month. I keep telling them to just talk to your parents.”

“My parents do the same thing.” He shook his head. “They’re excited to see you at Yui’s party.”

“I’m excited to see them too.” You smiled warmly. “Will the usual crowd be there?”

“A couple of our cousin’s kids that are her age, yeah, but she’s getting to the age where she just wants to hang around her friends, not a bunch of old people.” He added humorously, “I’m only allowed because you’re coming, I think.”

“Doesn’t want her stinky older brother ruining the vibe?”

“The kid loved me when she was little, but suddenly she’s acting like I’m as old as our parents or something!”

“Because you were cool back then. Now you’re like… a real grown-up with a career who pays taxes and has an IRA or whatever.”

“I’m cool!” He insisted.

You laughed, lifting your mug to your lips. “Not eight-year-old girl cool.”

“You’re also a taxpayer and yet she apparently still thinks you’re cool.”

“Yeah, but I’m not her stinky older brother.”

“Alright, would you stop saying I smell? I swear, I showered before I came over here.” He sniffed his shirt for good measure.

“Aw, you showered just for me?” You teasingly batted your eyes at him.

“You say that as if I never shower,” he scoffed, pushing your arm.

“You’re just fun to tease, Shotaro,” you reminded him, returning the push, your hand lingering on his shoulder.

And then you were on him, and his hands were on your waist, and your lips were on his, and his thumbs were squeezing your upper thighs, and your hips were pushing down on his, and his mouth was on your neck, and your teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, and his shirt was on the floor, and in the haze of it all, his hand found yours and your fingers slotted together as they’d always done.

For just a brief moment when you woke up the next morning, you could pretend. If you didn’t open your eyes, didn’t think, didn’t remember, you could be in any other normal morning. Shotaro’s soft breaths beside you, his warmth under the covers a subtle assurance of his presence. That quaint fantasy—memory?—was ripped away by your work alarm blaring from the bedside table. With a disgruntled noise, you fumbled for the device blindly and snoozed it with only half an eye open.

Facing reality (and Shotaro), you rolled over to your other side to ask quietly, “Breakfast? Or do you need to get home?”

“Breakfast sounds great, if I won’t make you late,” he answered just as softly, slowly blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“No, not all.”

Breakfast was a quiet and mundane affair, all things considered. It was brief, as you had to get going to work, but heartachingly familiar, an echo of the ritual you two used to do every morning before heading off to your respective workplaces. This time, when you parted ways in front of your building, you hugged him and let him peck the crown of your head, squeezing his arm and promising to see him again soon.

[taro 🤎: hey, are you up?]

It had been three days since you last saw Shotaro. You weren’t avoiding him on purpose, you had your own life. Now, the fact that you were awake at almost three in the morning to see his text did not have anything to do with living your own life, and everything to do with him. While the two of you agreed to see what your relationship would look like now, this couldn’t be it. After Mayu’s party, he’d leave again, and you didn’t want to end right back up where you were seven months ago when that happened.

[you: did you seriously just send me a ‘u up’ text?]

[taro 🤎: omfg i did NOT mean to i just can’t sleep]

[you: want to go for a drive?]

“Hey,” you greeted Shotaro casually as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car.

“Hey.” He got himself situated and buckled in before you smoothly pulled away from his family’s house. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “But we’ve always been like that. Looks like even timezones couldn’t mess it up.”

“Guess not.” He chuckled, then cleared his throat. “I like the new car.”

“Oh, yeah, that old clunker from high school finally gave out on me,” you snorted. “It would’ve been more money to fix it than to get a new used one. What about your car? I didn’t see it in the driveway, I figured your parents would’ve been holding onto it for you.”

“In the garage.”

“Of course, yeah, to keep it out of the elements.”

“Lot of memories in your old car…” Shotaro mused, drumming his fingers on his knee as he stared out the window.

“Yeah, since you didn’t get your license until our last year of undergrad,” you pointed out, though there was no venom in your voice. The two of you went everywhere together back then, there truly was no need for both of you to have cars. “Oh god, remember when we drove like, two hours to go to that bakery you saw online?”

“And it wasn’t even good,” he groaned. “We got scammed!”

“Everything was simultaneously burnt and undercooked. We’re lucky we didn’t get food poisoning.”

“That strawberry tart was an affront to God.”

“I don’t even remember exactly what happened, but I’d had a really shitty week, so going on some stupid goose chase with you was honestly perfect,” you chuckled, taking a random turn.

He frowned. “Wait, really? I don’t remember that.”

“I don’t think I told you, don’t worry.” You waved off his concerns. “That was our first semester of college. First time away from home, I didn’t get along with my roommates at the time, and you were so much better at making new friends than me. All of that on top of school, I was so stressed. I don’t know, I just remember sitting in my car with you after trying those awful pastries together and thinking to myself that I had nothing to worry about, that I’d always have you.”

“Wh—Y/N…” He trailed off, clearly at a loss for words.

“Sorry to drop that on you almost a decade later,” your tone was still light, and your sentiment genuine. “I’m fine, honestly. If anything, it just shows how you always took care of me even without realizing it just by being around.”

“Yeah but…”

“It’s okay, really.” You patted his arm before putting your hand back on the wheel. “I’m not a socially awkward, insecure eighteen-year-old anymore. I know how to make friends other than you.”

With Shotaro still quiet, you decided to change the topic back to a humorous one, pointing out another familiar location as you passed it, the city hall. “Hey, remember when Sungchan was trying to impress that girl in his math class and almost cracked his head open on those stairs?”

“Oh my god, yeah.” He immediately laughed. “Poor guy had no control of his limbs until we were like twenty.”

“That was before you two were friends, right?”

“Right, right. Our whole grade was on a field trip,” he recalled. “I only found out about why he had been doing that when we got paired up for an assignment senior year.”

“And then she moved away like a week after the field trip, I’m pretty sure.”

“Jung Sungchan and his chronic bad luck.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t burn your dorm down in college.”

“Oh, speaking of Sungchan and college, do you remember our first college party?”

“The parts before I got blackout drunk for the first time in my life? Yes. After? No, absolutely not.” You laughed. “Let’s see… I remember playing some drinking games… you kept me from making a fool of myself on the dance floor as always… and I think you told probably ten guys that you were my boyfriend that night because we made the signal way too vague and I kept accidentally signaling to you that I needed you to intervene when I was chatting with people.”

He cracked up in the passenger seat, clutching his sides as he caught his breath. “I forgot about that, shit. At one point you were talking to Sungchan and I was so confused about why you were signaling me but—”

“You swooped in and rescued me anyway,” you snickered. “I was just asking him if he knew where the bathroom was. God, he was so confused.”

“I was actually horrified that he was doing something to make you uncomfortable like that—”

“And tipsy by then,” you interjected. “You actually shoved him! I couldn’t believe my eyes!”

“I was angry that he of all people would do something!” He defended himself through choked giggles. “I thought I knew him better than that! I thought he was a good guy!”

“And he was, he was!” At this point, you were cackling just as hard, having to pull over into an empty parking lot to avoid crashing. “Poor Jung Sungchan and his chronic bad luck, just telling me where the bathroom was when you suddenly come running over about to fight him, yelling about how he was an asshole who needs to leave your girlfriend alone!”

“And we were just friends then, too!”

“You were lucky he was so confused that he didn’t fight back,” you pointed out. “No offense, but you were a late bloomer. He was like two heads taller than you back then.”

“I know, I know.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, and our annual tradition of leaving the school dance early to get ice cream?” You smiled, shifting around in your seat to face him properly.

He turned around too, mirroring your stance with one leg propped up. “Always way better than whatever they got catered.”

“Did you see that Soojin and Hyungyu got divorced?”

“What?! Seriously?”

“Yup, I saw posts from her divorce party. Hold on.” You quickly brought out your phone to find the pictures she had posted on her Instagram recently.

Shotaro’s jaw dropped as you held your phone screen out to him. “I’m surprised they lasted that long, honestly. Getting married the day after graduation…”

“At least the only custody battle they had to deal with was over the dog.”

“Good point.”

“Speaking of kids—Jiwon is pregnant again!”

“What is this? Number four?”

“Five. She had twins, remember?”

“God, right.”

“Like, I know we’re all grown adults but it never gets any less jarring to see people we’ve known since elementary school having kids on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Jiwon chewed on pencils until we were thirteen, what do you mean she’s now in charge of five little humans?”

“You’re somehow making me feel older than Mayu does right now, Y/N,” Shotaro groaned, rubbing his face with two hands.

“Oh, come on,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “We’re so not old. Our lives aren’t over. We’ve still got so much time left.”

He picked at the skin around his nails, voice tight as he asked, “You think?”

You grabbed his hand before he could successfully rip off a piece of his cuticle. “Of course we’ve got more time.”

This time, your movements were slow, intentional as you maneuvered over your center console to settle on Shotaro’s lap, cradling his face between your hands as he looked up at you with nothing but unabashed devotion. “There’s always time,” you whispered like a prayer, bringing his lips to yours in a kiss that tasted of reverence. Each move of his fingers under your waistband pious, eyes watching you like he was witnessing a miracle.

Today was Mayu’s birthday. You weirdly didn’t feel nervous to see Shotaro—you’d seen him plenty recently. It was his family that you were anxious about reconnecting with. They had been such an integral part of your life for as long as you could remember; a second family. Losing them like that was… jarring to say the least. You had planned to keep seeing them after Shotaro left; stop in to check on his parents and take Mayu out. But after so many of your offers were turned down, you got the message and left them alone.

And so when you knocked on their front door that afternoon, you didn’t know what to expect on the other side. Shotaro’s mom answered, and she immediately swept you into a hug before you could open your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, hon,” she sighed happily. “How have you been?”

“Hi, I’m good.” You hugged her back tightly. “How are you?”

“I’m so happy to see you again.” She pinched your cheek affectionately then reached for the gift bag in your hand. “Here, I’ll put that with the others. The girls are in Mayu’s room right now, and Shotaro’s out back.”

“I’ll go see the birthday girl first.”

You could hear the girls before you could see them. They were chatting and laughing loudly, sounds that brought a fond smile to your face. Mayu’s door was open but you still knocked anyway. They all looked up from their various crafts that they were doing at you, Mayu dropping her scissors and scrambling to her feet in delight.

“Y/N!” She squealed, launching herself at you.

“Yui!” You picked her up by her underarms like she was still a toddler, and she wrapped her limbs around you like a koala. “Happy birthday!”

“You came!”

“Well, I was invited,” you laughed, rubbing her back. “Can’t miss my BFF’s birthday, huh?”

Leaning back as much as much as you could, you shifted to hold her one-handed, using the other to grab your necklace—one half of a BFF heart pair. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped before she started squirming in your grasp. “Wait! I have mine!”

You set her back down on two feet, and she darted around all her friends to get to her dresser, opening the jewelry box that was atop it. She victoriously fished out the matching necklace, running back over to you with it. “Can you help me put it on? Please?”

“Of course.” You held out your palm for her to drop it into. She turned around, leaning back against your legs as you unclasped the necklace then fastened it for her. When you were done, you patted her front. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” She then latched onto your hand. “Come on, you can sit next to me!”

As you settled into a spot to the side and mostly behind Mayu, she went ahead and introduced you to everyone in one fell swoop, “This is Y/N! She’s my brother’s girlfriend.”

You didn’t have it in you to correct her, instead chuckling softly as a chorus of ‘ooh’s erupted around you. Mayu picked her scissors back up and went back to work on her own craft, enthusiastically explaining it to you and chatting with her friends. Eventually, they got bored of crafts and ran out to the backyard, pulling you along with. There was a back patio that fit exactly two chairs—currently occupied by Shotaro and his dad—and a small grassy area taken up by a playset that was as old as you. You could barely give the two men on the patio a wave over your shoulder as the gaggle of girls herded you towards the playset with them.

Every time you thought about sneaking off to talk to Shotaro and his dad, someone would call your name wanting to show off how fast they could get across the monkey bars, or wanting a push on the swing, or wanting to play a word game with you.

“Popsicles!” Shotaro’s mom had stuck her head out the back door to call out.

The kids all immediately made a break for the house, forgetting their previous activities entirely. Finally, you were able to meander under the shade where the two men were reclined, watching all of you with amusement.

“Mayu giving you a workout, huh, Y/N?” The older gentleman chuckled.

You had a breathless grin on your face as you chuckled, “I don’t mind.”

“Here, Y/N,” Shotaro stood up, gesturing to the chair he’d just been sitting in for you. “I’ll grab you something cold to drink.”

“Oh, thanks, Taro.” You smiled at him softly, watching as he disappeared inside before gladly taking his seat.

“I remember when I used to be the one chasing you two around on that,” his father laughed, pointing at the playset.

“I’m amazed it’s held up this long.”

“Quality materials. They don’t make things like that anymore.” He tsked and shook his head.

“Yui has gotten so big. I still remember when she just a baby.”

“They only get bigger. I would know.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked at you. “Even if they promise you they won’t.”

You pointed to yourself questioningly. “Wait, did I say that?”

“Mhm. Oh, it was back when I could still pick you up with just one hand.”

You let out a sputtering laugh. “Oops.”

“Ah, it’s alright.” He grinned. “You’ve grown up so well, Y/N. We’re proud of you, you know?”

That made you falter for a second, the indifferent way that you were brushed off before too fresh of a memory still. But the sound of the back door opening brought you back to the reality of where you were, and so you smiled and nodded, replying graciously, “Thank you.”

He stood up with a grunt then, announcing, “I’ve been sitting too long. Doctor says I need to move around, for my back.” And with a fond pat on your head on his way into the house, he left just you and Shotaro on the patio.

Shotaro handed you one of the two sweating glasses in his hands, then took the empty chair beside you.

“This was nice of you,” you commented, eyes following a cloud’s path across the sky.

“You haven’t taken a sip yet, I could’ve put soy sauce in that,” he joked.

“No, I mean for you to come all the way back for Yui’s birthday,” you clarified. Taking a swig of the admittedly refreshing water, you decided to finally address what the both of you had been blatantly ignoring this whole time. Looking over at him, you asked plainly, “When are you leaving?”

Shotaro’s grip tightened on his cup, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed the gulp of water he’d just drank. He set his drink on the ground, running one of his hands through his hair. “I-I’m not. I…”

“You’re staying?” You asked, throat going tight at just the prospect. But the pained, guilty look on his face was making you uneasy. “Shotaro, what’s going on?”

“When I left, when my plane touched down, there was nobody waiting for me. I called the office there, everybody in Italy I possibly could,” he confessed, digging his thumbnail into a loose flap of skin by his nail. “Finally, I called Mr. Shin from the office here on his cell. Don’t even know what time it was, but thank God he picked up, made some more calls. Three hours after I landed, I found out the entire office in Italy wasn’t happening, the company was downsizing, and I no longer had a job at all.” He laughed sharply at that, tearing off some of his cuticle. “Mr. Shin helped cover my hotel that night—I think from his own money because he felt so bad for me—and I paid for my own ticket back.”

“Oh my God, Taro…” Your hand covered your open mouth as you stared at him, chest squeezing with the belated horror of finding out what he’d been going through just hours after you’d wished him well. “You could’ve called me…”

“I wanted to, so bad. All alone in that airport, I’d never wanted to see you, talk to you, so much in my life. Hear you tell me it’d be okay,” he blubbered, openly crying now, pushing the backs of his hands against his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears that ran down his cheeks. Shaking his head, he said, “But after everything… I didn’t want you to feel like a safety net. Like I was only coming back to you because it didn’t work out.”

“I can appreciate that you were respecting my space at the time but… that’s exactly what I was supposed to be, Taro. Not a second choice, but a safe place for you. Your first choice when you’re struggling, the first person you turn to. Just like you were for me.” Your vision was blurry, tears gathering at your waterline as you were both hurting for Shotaro and lamenting the past seven months that you had lost with him. “That’s the whole point, to rely on each other like we’d always done. You going away was never supposed to be permanent anyway, remember? This was always temporary. You just came back a lot sooner than we expected.” You couldn’t keep the pain and confusion from your voice as you asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why-Why did you hide it from me for so long? For this whole week?”

“I’m so sorry. I was just—I was so ashamed… I’d given you up for nothing and was unemployed and had to move back in with my parents and I just… couldn’t tell you. And the longer it went on, the harder it felt to do anything. I wanted to be ready, at least have a job, to have something to show you for all of this when I finally saw you again but… I have nothing.” His voice cracked over the word ‘nothing’. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I lied, and I’m sorry I still don’t—”

“You don’t have nothing. You still have you. That’s what I’ve been missing this whole time—my Taro.” You swallowed against the heavy, sharp lump in your throat, wondering how he could’ve even gotten all this so twisted in his head. “Stop… punishing yourself on my behalf, please. I don’t want that. You’re not in that airport anymore, you’re home.”

“It didn’t feel like it until I saw you again. The other day,” he admitted quietly.

“I think we both need time to really talk and stuff,” you said softly. “But I never gave up on our plan.”

Shotaro looked over at you, utter shock on his face. His wide eyes were red from crying, still glistening with tears, his hair stuck up at odd angle from running his fingers through it, and one of his ears was bright pink from nervously tugging at it. “The plan…”

“You’re back. I don’t think we can exactly just press play like we planned, but… we can take it slow. Talk. Hang out.”

He quite literally threw himself at your feet, knees impacting with the patio pavers with a painful thunk and he rushed to clasp your hand between both of his, pressing his forehead against it.

“Oh my god, Shotaro, are you okay?” You sputtered, resting your free hand on his hair. “Your knees—that sounded like it hurt.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he breathed out.

“Okay, you can—”

The back door was thrown open then, startling you, accompanied by a loud voice, “Did you seriously just propose?! On my birthday?!”

“Mayu!” Their mother came by, grabbing the girl by the arm and pulling her back indoors. “I told you to stay inside!”

She didn’t even look at you as she slammed the back door shut, but the muffled sounds of her continuing to scold Mayu were audible. You and Shotaro made eye contact, immediately breaking into laughter. He let go of your hand to fall back onto his butt, covering his face and shaking his head.

“Nosy ass kid,” he snickered, dabbing at his drying eyes.

“She was so offended you were trying to steal her spotlight.”

“Does she seriously think I’d propose like this?” He gestured to his current casual attire of shorts and a t-shirt. “She really thinks the worst of me.”

You snickered, getting to your feet and offering him a hand up. “Come on, I heard there were popsicles inside.”

He put his hands in yours to let you pull him up. “Good idea.”

[you: im going to kick your ass]

[jung sungchan 🥈: wtf why]

[you: SHOTARO WAS HERE THE WHOLE TIME AND YOU KNEW AND DIDN’T TELL ME]

[jung sungchan 🥈: HE TOLD ME NOT TO]

[jung sungchan 🥈: GO KICK HIS ASS NOT MINE]

[you: IM GONNA KICK BOTH YOUR ASSES]

“I kept telling him to tell you,” Sungchan defended himself through a mouthful of popcorn, long legs taking up your entire couch.

“You didn’t think to tell me yourself anyway?” You scoffed, smacking his shins indicatively.

He scooted up, swinging his legs off the cushions to make room even as he kept bickering with you. “And how do you think that would’ve ended for me?”

Shotaro entered from your kitchen then, another bowl of popcorn in his hands, and plopped down in between you two. He had a wide smile on his face as he shook his head fondly, “I missed this.”

“What? Y/N running her big fucking mouth all the time?” Sungchan snorted.

“Oh you—” You reached over Shotaro to smack the back of Sungchan’s neck. “Asshole!”

“Yeah,” Shotaro laughed, holding his popcorn up so it didn’t spill as Sungchan tried to catch your arm, but you jerked it out of the way before he could. “I missed that.”

“I already said sorry, damn,” Sungchan huffed. “What more do you want from me? To grovel at your feet?”

“Taro did.”

Sungchan looked at his friend in disbelief. “Dude, seriously?”

“Yup.” Shotaro shrugged and picked up the remote. “Who’s picking?”

As you watched the first movie, you filched popcorn off Shotaro, not hungry enough to make your own bowl. After the popcorn was gone, you looped your arm through his under the blanket you were sharing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

The air was turning crisp with the approach of fall, the leaves of Shotaro’s neighbor’s tree changing into brilliant hues of yellows and reds and oranges and falling over the fence into their backyard. The two of you were sat on his family’s patio after a family dinner that you’d been invited to. Mayu had homework to finish, you had already helped his mother with the clean-up from dinner, and the cold wasn’t good for his father’s back, so it was just the two of you.

“After you left—or I thought you left—I tried asking your parents if I could come by for dinner, or take Mayu out. They kept… finding reasons to say no, so I eventually stopped asking,” you stated into the silence. Turning to look at Shotaro, you asked, “Was that because of you? Because you didn’t want me realizing that you were here?”

He nodded, the regret plain on his face. “Yes. I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I told them to say no. I hurt all of you, I’m sorry.”

“Have you talked to them?”

He shook his head. You stood up, tilting your head towards the door. “Come on.”

His mother was sitting on the couch, a book in her hand as her husband sat beside her, faintly snoring. She looked up at the two of you with interest as you approached her.

“Hey, Mom. You guys got a second?” Shotaro asked.

She bookmarked her page, nodding. “Of course, hon.” Then, she lightly smacked her husband on the chest with her paperback. “Wake up.”

He sat up with a start. “Mm? I was just resting my eyes.”

“I missed you guys, a lot,” you said first. “Thank you for… letting me back in, no questions.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Shotaro’s dad patted your head. “You’ve always been one of ours.”

“We missed you too, hon.” His mom grabbed your hand tightly. “I’m sorry we-we turned you away—”

“No, Mom,” Shotaro cut off her apology. “I’m sorry for making you do that just because I couldn’t tell her the truth. I shouldn’t have made you lie too.”

She smiled, taking her son’s hand in her free one. “Thank you, Shotaro.”

Mayu’s room was next, and you knocked on the ajar door to get the girl’s attention. She picked her head up from where it had been laying on her workbook, watching her pencil scratch across the paper.

“How’s your homework going, Yui?” You questioned knowingly.

“Boring!” She huffed, dropping her cheeks into her palms. “I already know all this stuff, but I have to do it anyway.”

“So, can you take a break for a minute to chat with us?”

“Please!” She slammed her workbook closed and stood up from her desk.

Her bed was a little small for all three of you, but you squeezed on anyway, knees bumping knees as you faced each other.

“I love you bunches, you know that, right, Yui?” You started again.

She nodded.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come hang out with you for so long,” you sighed. “That must’ve been confusing and sad, right?”

Mayu’s face turned pensive as she nodded slower this time. “Shotaro kept telling me you were busy. I-I tried not to be sad, but I was sometimes.”

“I’m sorry, Mayu,” Shotaro said firmly. “I lied to you, and I shouldn’t have. It was wrong. Y/N wasn’t busy. She tried to come see you lots of times, but I said no. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why would you do that?!” Mayu’s eyes filled with tears as she yelled at her brother. “You’re the worst! Get out of my room!”

“Mayu—”

“Get out!” She screeched, this time planting two hands on his chest and pushing firmly. While she didn’t actually exert much force on him, he held his hands up in surrender and climbed off her bed.

“Okay. I’m sorry,” he offered one last apology as he retreated from the room.

Once it was just the two of you, you asked her quietly, “Do you want some time alone?”

“No, don’t go again!” She threw herself across your lap.

“I’m right here,” you assured her, patting her back. “Talk to me. What are you thinking? Feeling?”

“Why would he do that?” She mumbled against your leg. “He lied…”

“He did,” you agreed patiently. “You don’t have to forgive him right now, you can still feel mad. But he did give a good apology, whenever you’re ready for it.”

“Why did he lie? Why did he tell me you were busy?”

You sighed, combing your fingers through her hair. “He did something wrong with me too. But we talked about it, and he told me the truth and apologized, like he just did right now, and I forgave him.”

“Why?”

“Why did I forgive him?”

“Yeah. He’s an adult. He shouldn’t—He should know.”

You smiled softly, still running your fingers through her hair. “Adults make mistakes too. We’re all learning how to be people, for our whole lives. What’s important is what you do once you make a mistake.”

Mayu rolled over in your lap, pouting up at you. “Do I have to forgive him?”

“Well, no. Nobody’s going to force you to accept his apology,” you informed her. “But you also have to think about what you gain from being mad at him forever versus forgiving him. Sometimes you don’t forgive people for them, you forgive them for you.”

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “What?”

“Sometimes when you forgive someone, it makes them feel better, but it makes you feel bad. Sometimes it makes both of you feel better. You won’t always know what’ll happen, but in this case, do you think you’ll be very happy being mad at your brother about this forever?”

Her face relaxed more as she thought this through, then determined, “Well… no.”

“You don’t have to do it right now, you can keep feeling mad tonight if that’s how you’re feeling.” You patted her tummy. “But when you’re ready, you should tell Shotaro.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.” She let out a remarkably big sigh for an eight-year-old. “I have to finish my homework.”

[taro 🤎: outside]

As soon as Shotaro’s text lit up your screen, you saved your document and hurried down from your floor. Sure enough, he was standing in front of the door to your office building, large bag of food in hand. He offered you a big smile upon spotting you, lifting his free hand in greeting.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver, Taro,” you gushed, taking the bag from him and throwing your other arm around his neck. “The board just dropped this on us last minute—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he assured you, rubbing your back. “Anytime, Y/N.”

“I’ve got to go. Thank you, thank you!” You pecked his cheek before rushing back inside, throwing a final wave over your shoulder to him.

After badging in at the security desk up front, you returned to your team, bag of food victoriously clutched in your hand. They all let out groans of appreciation at the sight, the mood of the entire conference room immediately lifting. You had placed the online order with a company credit card, and Shotaro came in clutch by picking it up and hand-delivering it himself—the restaurant didn’t offer delivery and you couldn’t spare any employee just to go on a food errand, under too tight of a deadline. As you passed out everyone’s orders and utensils, they expressed their own gratitude.

“Your boyfriend grabbed this, Y/N?” Ahrin questioned through a mouthful of food. “Marry that man.”

“Wait, I thought he was out of the country?” Junhyuk looked up from his laptop. “Why did I think he was in another country?”

“No, he was definitely abroad,” Risa confirmed, then turned her attention to you. “Is he back?”

“Yeah, he’s back.” You focused on opening your own container of food. “And that’s all the time we have to spend on something other than this project. So let’s get back to work!”

“I can’t believe he was here the whole time,” Sooyoung gasped in disbelief, continuing to sort out the supplies for activity bags with you. “And that you just forgave him.”

You rolled your eyes—not that your friend’s reaction wasn’t warranted, but the fact that you had heard this plenty of time already from pretty much everyone you’d told about Shotaro’s unexpected return to your life was getting old. “He suffered plenty for those seven months. It wouldn’t make me feel any better to continue punishing him myself.”

Usually you didn’t come in on the weekends as a volunteer—only paid employees of the organization came in outside of normal operating hours. But next week was fall break for the schools in the area, meaning that many of the kids that the after-school program served would need somewhere to go that wasn’t their home or school, so there was extra preparation to do in order to accommodate them. So you were here on a Saturday morning aiding in those preparations. Assembling activity kits, stocking up on snacks and lunches, cleaning, making sure everything was together for the expanded hours.

“Has he found a job yet?” She questioned pointedly.

“No. Job market sucks. He’s applied to plenty that he’s overqualified for, and they either never get back to him, send him a rejection weeks or months later, or ask him to come in for an interview then tell him they’re going in a different direction.” You sighed bitterly. “He’s been trying to keep himself busy helping his family out, and he does all sorts of community service stuff too, but I know he’s still kicking himself over it.”

“What sort of work does he do?”

“Logistics. He’s got an engineering degree, and he was a project manager at his last company. They hand-picked him to help open a new office abroad, for fuck’s sake! And somehow he’s apparently unhireable! I just don’t get it,” you ranted. “I’ve even tried finding him something at my company, but none of our departments are hiring.”

Sooyoung frowned. “I thought engineering was supposed to be one of those degrees that you’re like, guaranteed to be employable.”

“Me too.” You tossed the finished activity bag into the pile and started packing up the next one. “Even those jobs where they just want you to have any degree—nothing. Today’s his birthday, so I’m going to take him out and try to get his mind off it at least.”

“You know… my sister-in-law works at a shipping company. I can ask her if they might have something,” your friend offered.

You sat up straight. “Really?”

“Of course. Can you get me Shotaro’s CV?”

“Hey,” Shotaro greeted you casually as he climbed into your car that afternoon.

“Happy birthday!” You leaned over the center console to wrap your arms around him.

He beamed, immediately returning the hug. “Thanks, Y/N.”

As you pulled away from his house, he asked, “So are you going to let me know where you’re taking me?”

“Nope. Birthday surprise.”

“Alright, alright.” He leaned back in the passenger seat, humming along to the song playing over your speakers. You turned it up, both of you belting out the familiar song, a favorite of yours from high school. As you navigated onto the highway, you didn’t think twice about reaching for his hand that was resting on his leg.

Several hours later, you pulled into the only parking spot you could find on the busy main street. Shotaro gave you a strange look as you turned the car off and unlocked the doors. He got out with you, squinting against the sun as he looked around. You pulled him by the hand around the corner to your actual destination, which had a line in front of it.

His jaw dropped as he looked at you in horror. “You’re trying to poison me on my birthday?”

“It’s under new management!” You pleaded with him through giggles. “All the recent reviews are really, really good!”

You had, in fact, taken him to the very same bakery that he had convinced you to go to in undergrad, where the two of you had tried to worst pastries known to man. You’d looked it up again the other day on a whim, and found out that it had changed hands since your last visit and was now receiving high praise on the quality of their food, not just presentation.

A fond smile overtook his face, and he nodded. “Well, it’s either going to be really good, or we just wasted our day on a wild goose chase again. And I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday than on a wild goose chase with you.”

Snaking your arms around his waist, you leaned your weight against him affectionately. The words you wanted to say got stuck behind your teeth, so you swallowed them back down, and instead mumbled, “Happy birthday, Taro.”

He held you to him, murmuring back, “Thank you for being here.”

Leaving the bakery with your box of assorted pastries after quite some time, you opted to sit in your car and eat them—the bakery didn’t have any seating, and all the tables on the sidewalk outside were taken up. Each of you with a piece of pastry in hand, you exchanged an apprehensive look, then simultaneously popped it in your mouth. To your delighted surprise, not only was it edible, but it was also delicious. Perfectly flaky, buttery, and sweet. Making eye contact with Shotaro again, you snorted, both of you nearly choking on your food as you had the same looks of shock and awe on your features—wide eyes and puffed-up cheeks. Covering your mouths as you simultaneously tried not to choke and not spit crumbs on each other, you fumbled for your water bottle that was on the floor of the passenger seat. Shotaro passed it to you even through his coughing fit. After gulping down a few sips to clear the pastry from your esophagus, you offered it to him. He took it gratefully, also drinking from it.

“That was good,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, before we almost died.” He punctuated his words with another cough.

“That wasn’t the croissant’s fault.”

“Strawberry tart next?”

Stopping in the courtyard out front of your office building, you smoothed down the lapels of Shotaro’s suit and adjusted his bangs fondly. He’d gotten a haircut, the brunette strands now cropped back above his ears again. “Good luck,” you kissed his cheek. “You’re going to do great.”

He was interviewing at Sooyoung’s sister-in-law’s company this morning, the headquarters of which happened to be a couple blocks away from your office, so he commuted into the office district with you. Shotaro offered you a smile, “Hey, I’ve done so many of these, I’m a pro at interviewing. I’ll practically be interviewing them instead of the other way around.”

But the way he tugged on his ear belied his nerves. Taking his face between your hands, you looked him in the eye seriously, “They’d be lucky to have you. You’ve just got to show them that. Call me after, I’ve got a light day, we can get lunch. Okay?”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Y/N.”

“I’ll let you go. Don’t want to make you late.” You gave his cheek one more affectionate pat then released him. “See you in a bit.”

“See you. Bye.” He reached for your hand, giving it one final squeeze before heading off. You waved after him until he disappeared into the crowd of salarymen and women bustling to their own jobs.

Thankfully, you really did have a light day, as all morning you were as nervous as if you were the one who was interviewing for a new job. Every few minutes, you checked your phone to see if you had anything from Shotaro. He texted you when he arrived at the company headquarters, but it was silence since then. It had been some time since you’d interviewed for your own job, but you’d done plenty of interviewing to hire employees in your own department and you never kept prospective hires for this long. Surely that had to be a good sign, right? If they didn’t like him, it would’ve been short.

Finally, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Shotaro.

“Hey.” You hoped you didn’t sound too eager as you picked up. “All done?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You tried to keep your hopes in check, but he sounded almost… cheery. “Ready for lunch?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll meet you outside your building.”

Shotaro came around the corner at a brisk walk, hands in the pockets of his slacks. You went up to meet him, searching his face for any clue of how it went.

“That was a long interview,” you commented, testing the waters. “What sort of gauntlet did they put you through?”

“I interviewed with the hiring manager first, then she asked if I had time to wait for one of the Divisions Directors to finish a meeting to talk to him some more. His meeting ended up going longer than they expected, but I didn’t really have anything better to do so—” He shrugged. “And then he came in with the Senior Operations Manager and I interviewed with all three of them.”

“So they did put you through a gauntlet.”

“Where are we eating?”

“Uh, there’s a place down the street.” You pointed, starting to lead the way. “Did you like the company?”

“It’s the sort of thing that I was doing before. And—” He pulled one of his hands out of his pockets, a folded piece of paper secured between two fingers. He held it out to you as his face finally split into a wide grin. “They gave me a written offer on the spot.”

You snatched the paper from him, unfolding it to read over the details, feeling as your eyes went wider and wider with each number. “Holy—Taro…”

“More than I was getting before,” he said giddily. “Their Senior Operations Manager is retiring at the end of the year. They hadn’t started looking for his replacement yet when they got my résumé. Good timing, huh?”

“Oh!” You launched yourself at him, practically bouncing up and down in place with him in your arms. “I’m so happy for you! God, I’m so proud of you!”

“I can’t… say thank you enough,” he breathed out next to your ear. “And if I try right now I’m going to cry on this sidewalk.”

You laughed, pulling away to fold his offer back up and tuck it inside his suit jacket. “We’re getting lunch right now! Tears later!”

His laughter followed you as you grabbed him by the elbow and tugged him down the street again.

“First day of work tomorrow,” you reminded Shotaro with a smile, taking a bite of the takeout he’d brought over. “Excited?”

“Yeah, I am.” He pushed his food around in the container. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Mm, go for it,” you prompted him, lifting your drink to your lips.

“I know we’ve been hanging out and stuff again, and I’ll never stop being in awe at the fact that you even agreed to do this,” he began, making you quirk up an eyebrow in part-amusement and part-curiosity at what could come next. “But once I get my first paycheck, I want to take you on a real date again.”

You smiled, even as you shook your head, taking his hand in yours. “Shotaro, that’s really sweet, but you’re just getting back on your feet after this long. You need to focus on yourself. We went on dates before either of us had money, too.”

He ran his thumb over the back of your fingers, eyes focused on your connected hands. “I-I know. But I just want to feel like a real person again.”

You could see how important this was to him, and so you acquiesced with one condition, “Okay. Nothing fancy.”

Movie and dinner was your date after Shotaro’s first paycheck (as opposed to dinner and a movie, as this was clearly the superior order in yours and Shotaro’s opinion, so you could talk about the movie while you ate dinner). The movie was some new release that neither of you were particularly invested in, but you would honestly watch anything as long as Shotaro kept his arm resting behind you, fingertips tracing up and down your arm. As always, you had plenty to talk about as you ate after, either about the movie, the other patrons in the theater, or anything else that popped into your minds, feet bumping into each other under the table every so often.

Walking around after dinner and swinging your linked hands between you, Shotaro stated humorously, “You know, I’ve been wracking my brain all night, and I can’t for the life of me remember what our actual first date was.”

“Well—” You snickered. “Guess you’ve got to decide what counts as a date. The first thing we called a date? Yeah, I have no clue.”

“That’s true. Everything was just always so…”

“Easy.”

“I was going to say unanimous, but damn, tell me what you really think about me, Y/N.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” You insisted through laughter, patting him on the chest. “I meant the same thing as you: We were always on the same page without talking about it. So like, yeah, I don’t remember the first thing we called a date. I also don’t remember when our hang-outs turned into dates before that, either.”

He tsked, “Did I ever even ask you to be my girlfriend?”

“I think we just started calling each other that one day.” You shrugged. “You’re my person, always have been, always will. I don’t think ‘boyfriend’ covers anything more than that to me.”

“Your person,” he echoed, tightening his grasp on your hand. “Yeah. You’ll always have me, Y/N.”

“Hey,” you said softly. “Walk me home?”

At your front door, you stuck your key in then let your keychain dangle, turning back to Shotaro. “Want to come in? It’s Friday, no work tomorrow.”

He smiled, nodding, “Of course.”

Pulling him in by the hand, you had barely shut the door when you had him pushed back against it. Taking a moment to do up your deadbolt next to his shoulder, you smiled at him sweetly. “I missed you, Shotaro.”

You watched his throat bob as he gulped, his hands hovering over your hips. “I missed you, too.”

“We’ve been really good about taking this slow,” you hummed. And you really were—nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek or a hug since his sister’s party, to let your thoughts and feelings have room to breathe and really clear the air between you first. The air was plenty clear now, in your opinion. Staring right into his dark eyes, you asked, “Do you still want to go slow? Do you need more time?”

“No, fuck, I need you. I—” That was all you needed to hear, lunging forward to kiss him with enough force that his head made a dull thunk against the door, but he didn’t complain. The kiss almost immediately softened, an unspoken but understood exchanging of too many lost weeks of tenderness, hands roaming with both the easy familiarity of a longtime lover and the uncertain wonderment of a new one. Shotaro kissed you with no urgency, as if the Earth itself were standing still for you at this moment, lips moving against yours sweetly, romantically, in such a way that filled your veins with sticky honey and forced you to slow down to match his pace. Your head was spinning when he moved on to dusting featherlight kisses under your jaw and over your pulse before returning to your lips. One of his hands caught yours that was gripping his tricep, lacing your fingers together, allowing you to feel the warmth of his palm against yours.

Both of you knew this apartment like the back of your hand, and had plenty of experience navigating it like this, locked together, fumbling at zippers and buttons. Shotaro stopped just short of your bed, chest heaving, and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt that you were about to take off, eyes fluttering shut. When he drew back, you looked at him in a wordless question.

“I love you,” he said the words like he was forcing himself to not just blurt them all out in a rush. “You don’t have to say it back right now, but I wanted to. And I’m sorry if I like, ruined the mood, but I was looking at you and it just came out.”

“I love you too,” you breathed out, pulling his lips to yours again and again and again.

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @flooftown @httpsxnox @kirrakira @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu @woozidreams

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

say cheese! — l.sh

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ you come across an interesting photographic subject. word count ⭑.ᐟ 3.6k+ upload date ⭑.ᐟ january 9, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ crush ]

modern day — j.sc

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ a loan day full of misunderstandings. word count ⭑.ᐟ 4.1k+ upload date ⭑.ᐟ january 15, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ if we ever meet again ]

heart on the sleeve — o.sr

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ the magician your sister hired for your birthday party was far too enchanting. word count ⭑.ᐟ 4.4k+ upload date ⭑.ᐟ january 23, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ can't take my eyes off you ]

hairy situation — p.wb

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ getting a haircut was never meant to have this much tension. word count ⭑.ᐟ 3.7k+ upload date ⭑.ᐟ february 2, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ lovebug ]

something new — s.es

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ you cluelessly walk in a music store only to come out with a new crush, and a new instrument of course. word count ⭑.ᐟ 5.7k upload date ⭑.ᐟ february 8, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ collide ]

boo! — l.cy

read here synopsis ⭑.ᐟ ghosts are real, and so is your growing attraction to him. word count ⭑.ᐟ 4.1k+ upload date ⭑.ᐟ february 14, 2026 ✩🎧⭑.ᐟ [ thunder ]

You have made plans with exactly no one this evening. There’s absolutely nothing on your schedule except for staying in, watching a really bad reality dating show and maybe finishing off your stock of ramyeon. But as soon as the intercom buzzes, you know exactly who it’ll be behind the door. It’s the same person who has shown up every month without an invite. The only one brave enough to breach your impenetrable bed-rotting self-sabotaging depressive-feeling bubble of four days now.

You open the door for it to reveal exactly the person you think it is. Black hair framing a beautiful face, dark jacket with a red collar, silver necklace, fitted form and a smile that can light up anyone’s day.

You lean against the door and sigh his name out loud, “Shotaro.”

Shotaro. Sweet and loving Shotaro. Ball of sunshine and everything good Shotaro. Always smiling, always happy, always so good and gentle Shotaro. He came to your rescue yet again. Even though you never asked for it in the first place.

His smile somehow turns bigger when he sees your sour face. “I came bearing gifts!” He announces and lifts up the three white plastic bags and one brown paper bag he’s holding. “And food!”

You sigh again. “Shotaro, need I remind you one more time that there’s absolutely no need for you to continue doing  this every month?”

He sighs and pouts, mimicking your bitter mood. “Y/N, need I remind you again that I do this every month not because it’s needed, but because I want to?” He throws back at you and you can’t help but sigh again. “Now, will you let me in or shall I deal with hypothermia from standing here all night?”

You roll your eyes at him and open the door wider while still leaning on it to show your discontent. “Come in, Taro,” you grunt.

He smiles happily and steps inside, kicking off his shoes and tucking his feet inside the slippers that practically have his name on them already from how much he uses it. He slides his backpack off his shoulder effortlessly whilst still holding everything in his hands and drops a kiss on your forehead as he brushes past you. 

“Thank you, pretty,” he says, short and sweet, and just like that, he’s popped your once unbreakable bubble of sadness.

You close the door and caress your arms, trying to shake the shivers that run in your spine by having his lips on your skin for that millisecond. Then you’re listening to the sounds of Shotaro already playing with Boseok, your three year old brown miniature pinscher — she’s twenty centimeters tall, weighs two and a half kilos and looooves male attention.

When you turn the corner from your hall to the kitchen, you see her there getting all that attention she loves, jumping and circling cutely around Shotaro while he’s crouched down, giving her pets and chin scratches, talking to her like she’s a newborn baby.

“At least someone here is happy to see me,” he says, eyes glinting with mischief looking right at you.

You look down and smile weakly, still hugging yourself to give you something to do. Shotaro notices your discomfort and immediately stands up, moving to the sink to wash his hands.

“Okay, food first, gifts later.” He motions for you to sit at the table. “I’ll set the table, you eat.”

You do as he says because you know it’s no use arguing with him. You pick a seat and in a minute he has a bowl, a plate and silverware pulled out in front of you. Then, he’s picking two of the bags he brought and putting them on the table. He removes the items in them carefully and reveals two containers with food still warm in them.

“Mom remembered your favorites from the last time you had dinner with us,” he says, presenting the meal to you with a small flourish. “Tonkatsu and miso soup.”

Your heart squeezes inside your chest because of the thoughtful gesture and your stomach growls at the scent and sight of some good food. “God, your mom is the best,” you say, voice underlaid with thick emotion, which Shotaro pretends not to notice. “Thank her for me, please.”

Shotaro sits on the chair by your side and picks up your chopsticks, handing them to you. “You’ll be thanking her by cleaning the plates.”

You look at him with worried eyes. “What about you? Won’t you eat, too?”

He shakes his head. “I already ate at home. This is all for you, pretty girl.”

That gets a smile out of you. “Thank you, Taro.”

You dive right in, delighting yourself in the rich flavors of his mother’s cuisine and eating everything as someone who hasn’t seen proper food in half a week. Which really is the case. You have been feeding off chapaghetti and honey butter chips for too long now and your system clearly needed real food.

“Isn’t it nice having a good home cooked meal after only eating junk food?” Shotaro asks beside you and you nod while eating a piece of cabbage. “This could be your meals always, you know, if only you would accept my invitation to come for lunch and dinner everyday.”

You fix him with a pointed look and simply say, “Osaki Shotaro.”

You’re grateful for Shotaro’s kindness, you really are, but sometimes you just feel like a burden to him. He’s done so much for you. Too much. His family, too. You don’t want to tire them out by needing them all the time. So that’s why you draw the line at becoming a daily nuisance. You can’t possibly accept his offer of having meals at his house everyday. That would be crossing a line.

He instantly raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, don’t need to say the full government name and threaten my life with that look of yours, pretty. I won’t bring it up anymore.”

“You always say that, but you always bring it up another time,” you say after sipping on your soup for a moment.

He taps his fingers on the table and gives you a soft smile. “You know me so well.”

After you’re done, Shotaro takes a photo of the clean plates to send to his mom and helps you bring the dishes to the sink. He almost turns the water tap to try to wash them, as he‘s done many times before, but you cast one more threatening look his way and he’s moving away from the kitchen, catching the last two bags he brought and bringing them with him to the living room.

You follow him, plopping yourself on the couch near him as he makes himself comfortable by taking his jacket off and laying it on the back of the sofa. You have to distract yourself from ogling his now exposed arms on the black t-shirt he’s wearing by pretending to be eager to reach for the bags he put by his feet. 

“Okay, let’s see those gifts you were talking about.”

“That’s the spirit!” He says, snatching the bags from your hold and pulling out of one of them three boxes of candy. “This is from Wonbin and Giselle.”

You beam instantly at seeing your favorite sweet snack. “Choco Boy!”

Shotaro smiles with you. “They knew you’d love it. And they both complained about you not replying to their texts for days, by the way.”

You bite your lip, a little ashamed as you take the candy from him. “Can you tell them I’m just in my non-verbal moment of the month?”

“You tell them yourself,” he says teasingly.

You scoff. “That would defeat the purpose of being non-verbal, dummy.”

“Well, you’re talking to me now, dummy, so your non-verbal period is officially over anyways,” he says matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes at him and he turns away to pick the last bag by his feet, the paper brown one and largest one yet. “And this is from me,” he says, picking a flower pot full of blooming white camellias from inside.

Your breath hitches as soon as it’s out, your expression softening. “Taro, what’s this for?”

“Just because they are pretty like you,” he says.

Nobody has given you flowers before. Well, at least not like this. There were two or three bouquets sent to your house once, eight months ago. Condolence bouquets. They ended up in the trash. But real flowers, meant for you, just because you’re pretty? You never won them. You’ll plant them in your garden. You’ll treasure them forever.

You pick them up from him and analyze each and every one of the flowers with a shiny gaze. When you’re done, you turn to him. “You’re soooo cheesy for saying that… But thanks, Taro, I love it.”

He comes closer and plucks one from its stem, then puts it behind your ear, decorating your hair. He looks you in the eyes when he says, “You’re welcome, pretty girl. It looks even prettier on you now.”

“You know my uncle would yell at you for doing that, right?” You say about him snatching the flower bud right off its stem, a little shy and trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks.

Shotaro’s eyes widen at your words, obviously caught by surprise with the sudden mention of your uncle. He looks a little sad, too, but he quickly tries to camouflage it with a compassionate look. 

“Yeah, he would probably yank my hand right out of my arm,” he says with a chuckle. But the smile never reaches his eyes.

“He would,” you reply with a small smile, even though you’re scolding yourself in your mind.

It’s pretty clear from the way Shotaro recoils to his spot on the couch that you ruined the mood by talking about your uncle.

Your dead uncle.

You had been living with him for almost a year when he passed away. He had chronic kidney disease, which meant he had to do hemodialysis three times a week during mornings at a clinic until he could have a transplant. Except he only qualified for a transplant until his exams checked out, which never happened because he had a history of pulmonary edema and a coronary stent in his heart.

His condition was serious – more serious than you thought it was and more serious than he ever let you or anyone in your family know, since he forbade all of you from going to his medical appointments with him. Serious enough that after going through a standard procedure where the doctor unclogged his blocked fistula, something he had done a few times before, he died.

Your uncle was the kindest person you ever knew. He gave you shelter, food and love when living with your parents became nearly unbearable and your mental health was suffering from it. He changed your life day by day in the smallest ways: supporting your passions, telling you old tales about your family and stories about his time in France, listening to every one of your worries and hobbies, bringing you coffee and a snack when you overworked yourself in the study room he made for you, introducing you to new and old music. He showed you he loved you, not by telling you he did, but by being there every day for you, taking care of you in a way no one else ever did, choosing to see the best in you despite all your flaws.

He did the same with all the other people in his life, too, and because of that your house was always filled with them. Your family, his friends, your friends, his music students and colleagues. Every one could come in uninvited and have a meal, a warm cup of coffee, some giggles and affection, listen to some good music and go out with a full belly and a stem cutting from one of the many plants in his garden.

That’s how you met Shotaro. He came over one late afternoon to discuss his master’s thesis with your uncle, his professor and advisor at the time. Your uncle introduced him to you as soon as you got out of your study room for a minute to relax, explaining the boy was also a member of the university choir directed by him.

You ended up staying there to talk and making a fresh pot of coffee and some hotteok to eat with them. Shotaro made silly over the top reactions to the yummy food that made you laugh so hard your belly hurt. Then, when your uncle went started playing the piano located in your living room, Shotaro indulged him ny singing along to a few songs before calling it a night.

Once he stepped out of your house, your uncle turned to you. “He’s one of my good students,” he said. He had mentioned before how many of his music graduates didn’t take the field seriously, but, apparently, Shotaro was the opposite of them. “Even though he prefers the music you listen to instead of the classics.”

He winked at you. You smiled at him. And you befriended Shotaro that same week, asking for his number albeit feeling a little shy about it. A week later, Wonbin and Giselle, also your uncle's students and part of the university choir, came around the house with him and Shotaro praised your cooking abilities to them like you were a famous chef, when, in reality, they all found out some time later that your skills in the kitchen could be summed up in making sweets and instant ramyeon.

You and Shotaro started texting to share your favorite songs, playlists and artists. Through chatting, you discovered that apart from his master's degree in music, he was also pursuing his bachelor's degree in dance and taught some classes at a local studio. You mentioned you liked to dance and always wondered if you should take a class, and he said you could pick any dance style and he would be your teacher. You said you were always curious about ballroom dance and then you both set up plans to start private classes the following week.

Honestly, you thought Shotaro was only being polite, that he wouldn't actually stick to giving you lessons. But he was there on the first day. And he kept showing up. You met up two days of the week at night in the studio he worked. The classes were one and a half hours each and he taught basic steps for various rhythms for some weeks, focusing on one after the other. Since he never accepted payment for any of your classes, you started bringing iced coffee for him when you came to the studio or grabbing dinner or a small snack together after the class was over, which allowed you to get to know each other more. Eventually, you both started talking about your dreams, hopes and fears.

As you quickly advanced on the basics and started falling in love with dance, things became more serious. The first classes were silly, full of jokes and humor, mostly because Shotaro always brought a stress-free and happy environment, not pressuring you to be great in a hobby you just started. Then, as you found yourself more involved by the rhythms and by Shotaro himself, an underlying spicy and sweet tension began to brew between you.

There was a visible shift in your friends/teacher-student relationship. Before, Shotaro would keep a respectful distance and he still would do it at the beginning of each class, but by the end of them your bodies were close together, his torso pressed to yours. His fingers that were once steady and sure, began to tremble and clench whenever his hand was on your scapula. Both of your breathing were more labored than ever and the way he looked at you raised goosebumps all over your skin. At first, you blamed the Latin and sexy styles you were recently working on. But after some time, you couldn't ignore what was happening anymore. You two have gotten too close.

The classes finished ten or twenty minutes later because neither of you wanted them to end. Shotaro walked you home, flirted with you openly and stayed a while longer talking with you whenever he came by to discuss his thesis. He even started calling you pretty girl, something he heard your uncle call you once or twice before. You blushed a little harder when he complimented you, shifted closer to him whenever you were sitting together on the couch, moved your body and face toward his direction during casual gatherings, touched his thigh or arm on conversations, even when it wasn't necessary. There was an inevitable pull that slowly but surely brought you both together.

Everyone noticed. You saw the happiness in your uncle’s smile and the knowing glances from Wonbin and Giselle several times when you two interacted. You heard the uncomfortable coughs by people around you whenever Shotaro was too sweet with you or you were too touchy with him. The will they, won’t they expectation of your audience made your own expectation even more intense. You wanted Shotaro. Badly so. But you were too insecure to take the first step and waited for him to do it.

One Saturday night, members of your uncle’s choir, his students and colleagues came to the house for a pizza party. There were conversations, laughs, piano music and wine. It was a very good evening. Your uncle retreated early to his bedroom to sleep, claiming he was tired from a day full of classes and joy. You stayed behind, being a good host for everyone. Then, one by one, people started leaving. Everybody went home until it was just you and Shotaro.

He offered to help you out with the dishes and you stayed in that kitchen cleaning and sharing a few more glasses of wine for a long time. Shotaro made you laugh, flirted with you, joked with you. He looked so good, too good. All easy smiles and sweet charm, effortlessly pulling giggles out of you with his silly jokes. He danced with you to slow music, spinning and dipping you, making the air between you thicker. You felt on cloud nine. You were happier than you had been in ages. Your life had been pretty amazing ever since you moved in with your uncle, and now you also had a boy that made your heart skip beats and brought you some magic. And from the looks of it, soon you'd be as intertwined with him as you wished for.

But unfortunately, Shotaro too had to go home, so you walked him to your door with a sad smile, your fingers playing with his in between your bodies. When you opened the door, he turned to you and hugged you. You squeezed him as tight as he squeezed you in his arms and you stayed like that for a couple minutes, just feeling each other’s presence, breathing each other’s scent.

He pulled back to drop a kiss to your forehead and you sighed against his neck. Then you looked up to meet his eyes and he was so close you could see the tiny dots on his irises. He leaned down to brush your nose with his and your breath hitched, waiting for a kiss until his mouth skimmed past your lips, closing over your cheek instead.

“I have to go right now,” he whispered against your skin. “Probably overextended my stay too much already.”

He was right. It was late at night, nearing that period where dawn slowly bloomed into morning, the sky becoming a lighter blue. And you couldn’t do what you wanted to do with him whilst your uncle was sleeping in the room right next to yours. It was too risky. Too public. You wanted to take your time with him. Just you and him. In an intimate and private place. With all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered back to him, dropping a kiss to his cheek, then another one on his jaw.

Shotaro cradled your face in his hands, tilting your head up so he could see you better. Then he rested his forehead on yours, squeezing his eyes and sighing deeply, a tinge of sadness on his face, looking like he was already regretting leaving you even though he was still there.

“You are so beautiful, though. Makes it so hard for me to leave,” he said, voice low and wrecked, as if you already ruined him with just a few eager glances and chaste kisses to his face, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

You clasped your arms tighter around his neck, breathed him in a little more. “No, you’re right. You should go,” you said, pulling back again. “We can do this some other time.”

He gave you a slow smile, full of mischief and boyish glee. “Yeah? Some other time soon?” He asked, just to make sure, just to mess with you a little.

You nodded, feeling your face get warm and your thoughts get jumbled from the way he was looking at you. “Mhm.”

His arms finally loosened a bit around you, but he still leaned down a little, becoming eye-level with you. “I’ll go, then. But I’ll text you tomorrow. So we can schedule this some other time you talked about, ‘kay?” he said. Still grinning. Still boyish. Still teasing. Still making you ache for him.

You looked away from his piercing gaze, sure that you were tomato-red by then. “Mhm’kay, text me.”

He remained in the same position, looking at you with that glint in his eyes, that taunting smile that made your insides burn.

So you shoved his chest lightly, eyes flicking back to him again. “Go, Taro.”

His smile became bigger. “Okay, okay, I’ll go,” he said, though he reached out for one more hug and put his hand on your cheek, thumb placed under your chin making you tip your head up for him.

He looked at you with eyes that said he desperately needed to kiss you. You looked back at him hoping he would just give in already, breath caught on your throat again. And then he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips, letting you get the briefest smallest contact of his lips against yours, and pulled back, devilish smile planted on his mouth.

“Goodnight, pretty,” he muttered, warm breath fanning all over your face.

And a beat later he was walking backwards away from you, waving you goodbye like he hadn’t just made your heart stutter and your skin crawl with the promise of more.

You went to sleep giddy and antsy and woke up the next day with Shotaro’s eager good morning texts already setting plans to meet for the week. But your plans never came true.

Because on Monday your uncle was hospitalized, on Tuesday he was sedated and intubated, and on Thursday he died. And, of course, because of that your life did a full one-eighty.

After that, you didn’t have time for anything in your life anymore, much less romance. It was all adjustments and adaptations, with many questions rising at the same time.

Would you stay at your uncle’s home or go back to live with your parents? If you stayed, would you remain at your job or search for one with better income, since you had to pay all the bills now? If you didn’t want another job, how would you pay the bills? Could you take a side job or do some artsy handmade thing to raise your income? You definitely couldn’t pay alone for your uncle’s house staff, so how would you take care of a whole house all by yourself now? Were you even capable of doing that? Were you able to keep everything clean, to wash all your clothes, to prepare yourself meals, to water the plants without anyone around to help you? All while still keeping a job?

And what about your uncle’s tax income, would your family have to pay it? And his inheritance? Did he leave a will? Did he have a trusted lawyer? And what the hell happened in the hospital anyway? Could his doctors have done more for him? How could you get access to the hospital paperwork?

Many, many questions. Hardly ever an answer. And so much paperwork to do. So much to think of, to deal with, to decide. It burdened you more than you let it show.

You fell sick twenty-five days after his death. A stomach bug that made you puke your insides out. Or maybe your emotional and psychological distress just manifested in a physical symptom. You had no one to take care of you. No one to call the pharmacy to bring you medicine. No one to tell you to rest, no one to tuck you to sleep into clean crispy sheets in an already made up bed. No one to have the housemaid make you soup and pamper you when you woke up. Just… no one. The person who used to do all of that stuff was no longer there. You couldn’t reach him anymore. He couldn’t help you.

You were alone.

You felt like all joy was sucked out of you in a snap of the fingers. You were a mess. Your house was a mess. Your clothes needed to be washed, your space needed to be clean, your beddings, towels, rugs and tablecloth needed to be changed to fresh ones. Your room needed to be organized, the paperwork you’ve collected over the days needed to be separated and stored correctly. And you needed to rest and recover, but you couldn’t. Because there was so much stuff to do. So much chaos you needed to handle.

You knew you should call someone. Your parents, your therapist or a friend. But you were too tired, too sad, too weak to do any of it. Too afraid of being a burden. Too frightened of ending up not getting the help you asked for, of no one caring for you like your uncle did. Of confirming you had no one anymore.

And then, Shotaro showed up. You have no idea how you managed to hear the intercom or open the door for him. But there he was, standing on your doorstep.

Sweet and loving Shotaro. Ball of sunshine and everything good Shotaro. Always smiling, always happy, always so good and gentle Shotaro. Except he wasn’t smiling that time. He was worried. Deeply, seriously worried. He rushed you back inside the house and then he proceeded to rescue you for the first time.

Shotaro took care of you. He washed your clothes and sheets. He changed all the beds, tables and bath linen. He cleaned your house, organized your room and stored the paperwork. He bought you medicine and made you take it. He prepared you chicken soup. He took the couch while you slept in your room. He stayed beside you the whole day and night.

The next day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner. He stayed by your side watching a docuseries about otters for the better part of an afternoon. He didn’t press you to talk or interact with him when you had no energy in your body. He even called your parents to tell them you were sick and also to reassure them he was taking care of it, that you were already feeling better, even though you weren’t yet. He made the chaos seem a little manageable.

Shotaro stayed another night. He slipped inside your room when he heard you crying through the door. He held you while you sobbed so hard you almost stopped breathing. While mucus covered your face. While you puked in the toilet again and again. While you screamed about how life was unfair, how God despised you, how you were all alone now. How everything fucking sucked. How horrible it was to live a life without your uncle. How you wanted to be dead, too.

Shotaro was there for you that night. He went through hell and back with you. He hugged and comforted you, whispering sweet words in your ears.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he had said, crying while hugged you and kissed the top of your head over and over and over again. “You’re not alone. I won’t let you die. You’ll be okay. Please, please, don’t die. Stay with me. I’ll stay with you.”

He held you in his arms until you cried yourself to sleep.

And by morning, he made you breakfast. He then took you to his house, where his family fed you more meals, kept you company, entertained you the way only happy families do and laughed with you while watching comedy dramas.

He drove you back to your place in the evening and stayed planted on your door’s threshold until you reassured him a million times you were feeling better.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” He asked, his perpetual smile now replaced with a wary look. “I’ll stay for as long as you want to.”

“You don’t have to, Taro. You have your life and responsibilities to go back to,” you said, rubbing the space between his eyebrows to make the worry lines in his face go away. “I’m good, I promise.”

He grabbed your hand, concern etching his features again. “I just don’t like the thought of you staying all alone in this big ass house again,” he replied, looking at your joined hands.

“Well, I’m never all alone. I still have Boseok here with me,” you whispered, looking inside the house to where the little pet was – perched on the arm of your couch, her tail wagging like crazy since you both arrived.

Shotaro sighed. Deep and frustrated and obviously not satisfied with your answer.

You poked his side. “And you stocked my fridge with home cooked meals for weeks and my pantry with my favorite candy, healthy drinks and whatnots. I’ll call you and give you updates from time to time. We’ll talk so much it will be just like you’re here with me. Please, don’t be worried about me, Taro.”

“I am worried,” he said, exasperated. “I’ll stay worried. You’re too important to me not to worry about, pretty.”

That time you also sighed and glanced down to his hand on yours, just like him, even though your broken heart was doing black flips because of his words. “Fine. So, we’ll text constantly, how about that? You can call me each hour that goes by. Even each half an hour, okay?” You intertwined your fingers with his. “Come on, Taro. You can’t suspend your life to take care of me. It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to me. I have other people to help me, too. And I’ll call you as soon as I need you, okay?” You crouched down a little, catching his gaze in yours again. “Do we have a deal, sunshine boy?”

He whined, clearly still discontent, but he also nodded. “We have a deal. Each hour, I’m calling you. And you better—”

“I’ll take every call,” you said, crossing your fingers in your free hand. “I promise.”

Shotaro brought you in for a hug and whined some more. Then, he pulled back, hands placed on the top of your shoulders and gave you the most vulnerable gaze you ever saw in someone’s face. “Y/N, just don’t think about doing anything—”

“I won’t do anything crazy, Taro,” you groaned, shaking yourself a little on your feet, showing your discomfort about the subject.

He waited for you to stop to continue speaking. “No, not crazy. You’re not crazy, Y/N,” he said and you looked at him as he had just lied to you. He said it again, “You’re not crazy. You’re not. Pretty, you’re just human.” You bit your lip, tears welling up on your eyes, and he kept talking to you. “You’re someone who’s going through a really tough time and it’s absolutely, completely normal for you to feel depressed. You’re allowed to be sad, okay? You’re allowed to not have your shit together right now.”

Hearing those words broke something inside you. And also healed you. You let the sobs break loose, let him see you again with mucus and tears all over your face.

“But all of that sadness you’re feeling right now, pretty? That’s just a temporary struggle,” he assured you, his voice calm and sweet like honey. “It’s not permanent. It’s not, I promise you.” He grabbed your other hand too, bringing your palms together to rest at his chest, right over his sternum. “You’ll get better soon. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll stay by your side through it all, okay?”

You nodded, because you believed him. You believed in what he told you. For the first time since forever, you believed in someone new again. And it made you start to believe in yourself a little.

Shotaro squeezed your hands and you felt his heart beating right under your palm. It was wild and desperate. Like just the thought of you doing anything bad to yourself could break it. His eyes were still open and honest as he brought his thumb to your jaw, his other fingers closing around your nape. “Just please, please, don’t search for a permanent solution to this temporary problem, all right? I can’t lose you, pretty.”

You agreed. You hugged him. You kissed his cheeks. You promised again. And when he went home, you kept your promise.

Shotaro never let you off his sight after that. He kept constant check-ins with you. You texted him daily and called almost every night. And he showed up. Every two weeks, then once in a month, he was there at your door, inviting himself in. Just to know how you’ve been going. Just to talk to you. Just to be with you.

He came by even when you said he didn’t need to check on you anymore. Even when you complained about how you were not a kid that needed constant monitoring. Even when you didn’t want him at the house. Even when you were grumpy and treated him badly.

Somehow, he had some sort of an inkling about your depressive slumps, showing up even when you lied that you were fine. He always knew. He always dropped by on your second or third consecutive day of barely getting up from your bed.

And, every time, he made everything better with his gentleness and attentive nature. A few hours in his company were guaranteed to make you back to normal, back to feeling like yourself again. He made you believe life could be good again, despite all the loss and heartbreak. And the truth is you needed to be reminded of that regularly, in spite of you telling Shotaro you were all good back then.

Because what you discovered about grief the following months after that night he held you crying is that it doesn’t happen all at once. You wish things could be so simple as attending a funeral, pay your respects to the deceased, cry about it for a few hours and be done with it. But it’s not like that.

Grief happens every day, every hour, every minute, every fucking second. And it consumes you inside out.

Grief is a phagocyte that instead of eating away foreign particles of your body, ingests the good parts of you – your soul, your spirit, your will to live. And it does it so slowly and tortuously that sometimes you don’t even notice. Sometimes you think you’ve already moved on with your life, but the parasite is still there, devouring part after part of you, and when you do notice it, there’s barely an ounce of joy left to hold onto. It takes and it takes and it takes.

However, that phagocyte didn’t expect to meet Shotaro when it entered your life. It wasn’t ready to fight his greatest villain, to battle with someone who deeply cared for you. Every part it devoured of you, Shotaro would place it right back. He brought joy into your life even when there was barely any left. He helped you grow around the ache caused by the loss of your uncle. Until you started taking the steps towards your own self-healing.

You asked your doctor to dose up on your depression meds. You doubled down your efforts on your therapy sessions and even started going to a grief counselor. You avoided being alone when you felt sad. You did the work.

And there was still so much work to do, but having Shotaro by your side made you feel like more than a shell of a girl scarred by loss and sorrow.

He rescued you more times than you can count. He saved you more than you can ever repay him for it. And he doesn’t even want you to repay it. Because he didn’t offer his affection and care waiting for something in return. He never made another move on you, never tried to use your suffering to take something from you, never tricked you or expected anything in return.

Shotaro just… stayed.

And sitting with him now on your living room couch, holding the flowers he bought specifically for you, you realize that he may have stayed because he loves you. And you may have let him because you love him, too.

You put the flower plot on the coffee table in front of you and sprawl yourself out on your end of the couch until your toes poke Shotaro’s waist. He’s been distracted by the past minute petting Boseok who has just gotten herself on his lap and when he feels your socks on him, he jolts a little.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

He pats your feet for a second and shakes his head like it was no big deal, then moves his hand back to Boseok’s little head, caressing her again. You can see she’s having the time of her life getting his pets and when Shotaro relaxes on his end of the couch, putting his feet up beside your knees, she sits herself right in the middle of his chest, little tail wagging like crazy, closing her eyes to sleep.

You stay silent for a while until you open a box of Choco Boy and eat a couple cookies, then offer the pack to Shotaro. He takes a few with his free hand and eats them right away. Meanwhile, Boseok stirs in his chest, opens her eyes and looks at you as if you disrupted her secret romance with him. You roll your eyes at her, quite literally fuming with jealousy of your own dog.

You love the little pet, you really do. She’s been in your life for a year and a half now. You inherited her from your uncle and she’s the one who keeps you company most days. She’s even been sleeping with you on your bed for the past months. She’s very precious to you. But right now, you hate that she’s getting all the attention you should be getting. Shotaro giggles seeing the exchange between you two.

“I swear, that dog is such a little flirt,” you huff, making him smile. “Whenever a guy comes around, she always acts like this. She wants all their attention to herself.”

Shotaro’s smile falters a little as he hears your words. He looks down at the dog in his chest, jutting his finger out to pet behind her ears. “Oh, so you have guys coming around here often?” He asks, still looking at Boseok, voice so quiet you almost don’t hear.

You jolt and sit up at his question, denying it immediately. “What? No! Guys coming around? Who said that?”

Shotaro cocks his head to the side, looking at you again. “You just did?! A second ago.”

“What? No, I didn’t,” you shriek. But then you replay the conversation in your mind and you realize that you actually did. You shift awkwardly in your place, heat rising on the apple of your cheeks because of your mistake. You try to explain yourself, “I mean, I did, but I meant before now! Like, my uncle’s friends. His colleagues and students. When you guys came around! She always rejected the women that wanted to pet her and seeked the man.”

Shotaro squints his eyes at you. “Are you sure you meant that?”

You nod enthusiastically, pursing your lips. “Yes, I’m positive!”

He doesn’t look convinced. “I mean, it would be fine if you had a man coming here, though, Y/N. You’re a single woman and—”

“No, there’s no man!” You exclaim, shaking your hands in front of you. “Only you! Well, and my dad. And Wonbin sometimes. But mostly you!”

“Wonbin?” He asks, suspicious, stirring up like he’s uncomfortable. Boseok whines at the movement, leaping from his chest to the floor. “What does Wonbin come here for?”

“To check up on me. You know he lives nearby and we’ve become friends, too,” you say, not even knowing why you’re explaining yourself so much to him.

“So? Just because he lives nearby he gets to be here everyday?” He says, looking at you with bewilderment. 

“He doesn’t come here everyday! I never said that!”

“Well, you just said he lives nearby, so that certainly must mean—”

“It doesn’t mean anything! He’s my friend and he checks up on me! Like you do!” You say, words falling out of your mouth quick and uninterrupted now. “Why are you so bothered by that anyway?”

Shotaro flinches at your question, like you just brought him back to reality and made him realize he said something he shouldn’t have. “I’m not bothered by it,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and trying very hard to seem unaffected by it.

But you see right through him. The tip of his ears are pink, his breathing is heavy, his hair a little disheveled and one strap of his shirt is almost falling off his shoulder. He’s clearly affected by it.

“Yes, you are,” you say, pointing to his whole face and body. “You’re very bothered by it. Why are you, though?” And then a lightbulb pops up above your head. “Taro… are you jealous?!”

“Jealous?” He scoffs, but it’s a little too rehearsed to be real. As though he already practiced his reaction in the mirror before. “Please, I’m not jealous!”

“You are so jealous!” You say, noticing all his little ticks.

“You’re one to talk! You were literally jealous of your own dog a minute ago!”

It's your turn to deny it. “No, I wasn't.”

“Yes, you were. And you looked so freaking cute.”

That silences you. You feel your cheeks warming up. One side of Shotaro's mouth tugs up.

“Seriously? I call you pretty and beautiful all the time, but cute is what does it for you?”

You cast your eyes down, unable to answer and to even look into his eyes.

When you scrunch your nose, he speaks again. “Gosh, you really are so freaking cute.”

You bite on your bottom lip, your face hot now, and Shotaro shifts on his end of the couch, sitting cross-legged.

“Well, cute girl, can I ask you something?” He says, and although there's teasing because of the new petname, his voice is serious and loaded, a clear shift in his tone.

You look at him again and his eyes pierce through you. “Yeah, of course”.

“If you’re really just friends with Wonbin, do you tell him how you’re feeling?” Shotaro asks, and you know he's not talking about your feelings for each other, but something else entirely.

You gulp down, at a loss of words. “W-what?”

“I was just wondering if you talk to someone about how you feel about… everything,” he trails off, gesturing vaguely. “Because you don’t do it with me.”

You sigh, ready to lay him the don't-worry-about-me speech you gave him a thousand times. “Shotaro—”

“I mean, you know you can talk to me, right?”

“Of course I know. It’s just—” You look down, nervously tugging on your hands in your lap.

He wraps a hand around your ankle, calling your attention again. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me. I won’t pressure you or anything.”

“No, I want to,” you say, closing your eyes. “It’s just… I feel like I've cried too many times in your presence. And I don’t want to be just this sad depressed girl who lost a relative in your mind. You already come here just because of that. So I guess that’s why I avoid talking about it with you.”

“Oh, Y/N.” His hand gets under the bottom of your jeans, his thumb caressing the inside of your heel, spreading warmth through you. You open your eyes to look at his soft gaze. “I don’t think about you like that at all. And I come by because I want to see you, nothing else.”

“Do you really?”

“Yes, of course. I thought you knew by now I have a soft spot for you. You really mean so much to me.” He squeezes your calf when your eyes fill with tears, tugging on it a little. “Come here.”

You do as he says, moving closer to him. Once you're at arm's reach, Shotaro immediately hugs you, pressing your chest to his. Finally, you let yourself cry.

“That’s it, pretty. Let it all out,” Shotaro says, his fingers combing through your hair. “You can cry as much as you want.”

You cry harder, comforted by his embrace and kindness. He sighs against you, pulling you to him until you’re curled on his lap, a hand rubbing circles on your lower back while the other keeps you close by the waist. You tuck your head on the crook of his neck and grab at his shoulder.

The tears flow for a few minutes until he stirs, pulling back. “Com’on, let’s get comfortable.”

You nod, watching as he props two cushions against the arm of the couch where he was laid and leans his back on it, pulling you by your arms until you crawl towards him, occupying his space. You lay half on top of him, with your left leg hooked in between his, and half on the couch, your right shoulder hitting the backrest of it. He reaches to the back of your neck to put your head on his chest, then proceeds to stroke your hair, his other hand going around your waist to squeeze you against him. You move your free hand – the one that’s not curled under you – to his arm, feeling the softness of his skin.

“You wanna talk about your feelings?” He asks softly.

“I feel—” You start, stopping when you feel the lump in your throat. You cry some more and he waits patiently until you can speak again. “It hurts so much. I feel fine some days, but others I still can’t get out of bed. I think I miss him more now than right when it happened.”

“I get it,” he says, rubbing patterns on your lower back now.

“Sometimes I feel like this actual physical pain right here,” you explain, pressing a fist in the middle of your chest. “And I miss him so much I can’t even breathe properly.”

“Oh, Y/N…”

“And I think it’s so pathetic to be feeling worse as the time goes by.”

“You’re not pathetic, pretty,” he whispers, squeezing you. “It makes sense to feel like that.”

“I’m afraid I’ll never be the same again, Taro. Like this fucked me up for life. But life moves on. I have my responsibilities to attend to. I have work and even that I can’t get right lately. I feel useless.”

“God, no, Y/N, that’s not the case at all. Remember what I told you? You’re allowed to not have your shit together right now.”

“But it’s been months now and I can’t move past this.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. What happened was really fucking awful, pretty. I don't know if it's something you ever get over. Maybe you just get used to it.”

“So I'll be stuck feeling like shit my whole life?”

“Not if you believe you can feel better. I know it's hard to imagine right now, but I promise there's a life worth living despite all this pain. I think your uncle would wish for you to live as though he was still here. He was the one that made you light up and he wouldn't want that light to turn off.”

You stay silent, letting his words sink in, mulling them over in your head.

Then you feel Shotaro's head shift, and you look up to find him looking down at you. He tucks a hair strand behind your ear. “You know what I think when I look at you? That you’re so strong.”

You roll your eyes, a denial at the tip of your tongue.

Shotaro doesn't let you voice it. “No, seriously, Y/N. You’re so strong. Choosing to stay in this place and make it your own, to live here with all the memories… I don't think I could. You're so brave. You don't give yourself enough credit for that.”

“Taro…”

“But you know you don't need to, right?”

“Don't need to what?”

“To be strong and brave all the time. You must be exhausted.”

“Shotaro…”

“You're allowed to break down, Y/N. You're allowed to cry, to show your feelings instead of letting them take space in your heart.”

“What if I never get back together after breaking down, though?” You ask, tears in your eyes again, your voice shaky.

He takes your hand and puts it on his chest, over his heart. “I'll be here with you collecting and putting together all the pieces back. I promise.”

And then you cry again, harder than before, soaking up his shirt. You don’t know how long you spend like that, curled in Shotaro’s embrace, sobbing the way you did when you were a kid. He keeps hugging you, keeps caressing your skin, your hair, your face. He rocks you back and forth. He whispers sweet words, tells you how special you are to him and says he'll never leave you alone.

Eventually, his sweet words dry your tears. When you look up at him again, his eyes are already on you. His hand comes up to clear your tears tracks and you laugh a little.

“God, I must look like a mess right now. Don’t look at me,” you joke.

He chuckles, still cleaning your face softly. “Nonsense. You're just as beautiful as always.”

“Liar.” 

You bring your hand to your mouth to hide a yawn and he notices it. “Sleepy? Want me to go?” He asks.

You tighten your hold on him, hand gripping around his bicep. “Stay. I like having you here.”

He smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile back. “Actually, do you mind staying for the night?”

His smile becomes bigger. “Not at all.”

“And also… sleeping with me on my bed?”

“Oh,” he mumbles, caught by surprise, eyes slightly widening.

“You don't have to.”

“No, no. Of course, let's sleep on your bed.”

You pull away from his chest, looking over the back of the couch to the rooms. “You need fresh clothes to sleep in, right?”

He shakes his head when you look back at him. “I actually have a comfortable pair in my backpack. No need to worry about it.”

“Okay. You wanna shower first?”

“Sure, whatever works for you.”

So you both get up. Shotaro gets the clothes from his backpack and you hand him a towel and a new toothbrush, letting him use the bathroom first. Meanwhile, you wash, dry and put away the dishes, rinsing and drying your sink after. He comes out of the shower after you put two clean spoons in the freezer, intending to use them to reduce the swelling on your eyes the next morning. Then it's your time to shower, brush your teeth and prepare yourself for bed.

You turn all the house's lights off and pet Boseok's little head where she's at on her bed before coming to your bedroom, where Shotaro waits for you seated on your bed. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt whilst he scrolls through his phone. You notice your tumbler bottle is on your bedside table when you come in, and once you pick it up, it's filled with cold water. You take a sip, then smile at him.

“Thank you, Taro.”

“Don't mention it,” he says, then points at your clothes. “You look cute, by the way.”

You look down at your pink pajamas covered in printed red cherries and feel your cheeks heating up again. “Yeah, okay… Let's get to sleep, you charmer.”

He shrugs, smiling back at you. “Just telling the truth, pretty.”

You roll your eyes and tell him to pull the covers back. He does as you say as you walk over to close the door and turn the lights off. Then you crawl on the bed with him and you both adjust yourselves.

Your twin bed is bigger than most models, but it's still too small for both of you to fit in together. Still, you make it work. You end up laying on your side with your back to the wall, face turned to Shotaro, a leg in between his. He also has one leg between yours, fitting to you like a puzzle piece. His arm resting on the bed goes under your neck and the other one wraps around you, hand splayed on your lower back. You put your left hand on his chest and place the right one around his waist. Your heart is beating so hard on your chest you're afraid he'll be able to feel it through your clothes, and his loaded breaths hit your forehead. You're never been this close and intertwined together before and it's clearly affecting both of you.

After a while, you're brave enough to say something. “This feels nice. It reminds me of our dance lessons.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Mhm, I miss dancing with you.”

“We can always return to our lessons.”

“I'll think about it.”

You stay quiet for a moment, syncing your breaths to his, your body relaxing. But then you call out his name again. “Taro?”

“Yes, pretty?”

“Thank you for the flowers. I really love them. I'll plant them in the garden.”

“I'm glad you liked them, pretty,” he says, his hand on your hair, fingers threading through your strands. “We can plant them together tomorrow.”

“Really? You'll be here in the morning, then?”

“Of course,” he reassures you. “I won’t slip away, Y/N.”

You fit your face on the curve of his neck, inhaling his cologne. “You better not. I like having you here.”

“Hah, that's a first,” he teases, voice light. “I remember you actually tried to expel me a few times.”

You laugh, burying your face further on his neck. “I was stupid back then. Now I want you close to me all the time.”

Shotaro sighs, his hand on your lower back tightening, fingers pinching your shirt. “Baby, I can be as close to you as you want, for as long as you wish.”

The new pet name makes your stomach flip. You melt into him, the darkness and his words making you brave. “Really? Even closer than this?” You whisper, dropping a long kiss on his neck. His body shivers against yours and you smile to yourself.

“Who's trying to charm who now?” He says, rough voice and labored breathing hiding behind a laugh. “We can talk about that later. You had a long day, you must be tired. And you're still vulnerable, so…”

“Ah, such a gentleman after calling me baby and saying you'll be as close to me as I want,” you reply, squeezing his waist. “Or maybe you're just a tease.”

He chuckles, moving his face to whisper in your ear. “Y/N, believe me. When I actually tease you, you're gonna be begging me not to stop.”

His words shocks your body alight and you clench his shirt on your fingers. “Shotaro—"

He kisses right under your ear, cutting all thoughts from your head. “Get to sleep now. You can start begging tomorrow.”

You release a breath and slap his chest lightly. “God, I hate you.”

He hugs you tight, pulling you impossibly closer. “No, you don't. Good night, pretty.”

You nod, drop a kiss on his jaw and get comfortable, feeling content just to be in his arms for now. “Good night, Taro.”

author's note: Hey, guys! So the reason this work is so personal to me is because Y/N's story with her uncle is my story with my uncle. Every detail about that is really what happened in my own life. Even that dog is my dog! And she really is a flirty little thing who loves male attention, hehe.

I started writing this back in august, five months after my uncle died. And today marks his death 1 year anniversary. And yesterday I saw RIIZE live for the first time and tomorrow I'll see them again. Idk what this all means, but ever since the Lollapalooza news dropped, I felt like it was a personal gift sent from my uncle… like he sent the boys I love so much to be close to me on this week that would definitely be hard. Maybe that's just wishfull thinking, but it comforts me somehow.

The truth is that through this whole crazy and painful year, RIIZE was there for me. They made me laugh with their content when it was hard to feel any joy. They made me connect with them when I couldn't feel anything anymore. Yes, I have amazing parents and incredible friends who've helped me. I did start grief therapy and I did the work to get better. But on the gloomy gray days, when I just wanted to sleep and not interact with anyone, a new video of RIIZE would come out on YouTube. Or they'd make a funny TikTok. Or one of them would write encouraging texts on bubble. Or they would drop new music that described exactly what I was feeling.

They were (and still are) with me through my grieving process and I can't even begin to thank them for that. So maybe I don't have a guy like Shotaro to rescue me like he did with Y/N on this work. But I did have this amazing talented group of soft genuine men that kept me going and made me hope even through the most unbearable pain I ever felt.

Anyway, writing this story – my story – really really helped me. I hope it can help someone, too, that someone somewhere can connect to this work. Maybe someone out there needs to read it. I know I needed to write it.

So, if you're going through grief right now, remember: You’re allowed to be sad and to not have your shit together. You're allowed to feel whatever it is you're feeling. You're allowed to be mad at the world. There's no right or easy way through grief. I can't tell you how it will be because it's personal for everyone. But what I can tell you is that you're not alone. And if you want to talk about it with someone, my ask box and DM are always open!

If you read everything until here, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Comments and asks are ways appreciated! Lemme know what you think.