#txt fluff

The rain outside was brutal, dumping what felt like gallons per minute. The sound of the hard rain pelting against the windshield of Kai’s car didn’t concern him.

He couldn’t even hear it. His thoughts drowned everything out around him. He had a one track mind; make it to [y/n]’s house.

Every time he got stopped at a traffic light was another minute wasted. Another minute something could be stopping him from making it to you.

It was almost 10 pm. You could be asleep right now. He doesn’t have much information other than the fact that you're home right now. You never turned your location off. He has his phone next to him, making sure you don’t move. Don’t leave without him being there. Risks are still high for you and your stalker.

When he hits another red light, he frantically checks his phone again. He sees you moving. Great, you are awake!

Kai then comes to the realization that he’s basically the stalker at this point, but he chooses to ignore it. He’s only trying to care for you after all.

He’s almost at your house. 5 minutes away. He knows the way by heart.

His passenger seat feels empty without you in it, but it really isn’t. Next to him is your favorite coffee from the cafe he works at. A bouquet of flowers, your favorite ones, just for you. A stuffed animal he’d noticed that occurred multiple times on your wishlist. As well as a handmade card from him. To tell you how sorry he was for everything, and that he didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Your scent in his car still lingers. He can smell you, but tries to ignore it. He can’t have himself become a mess before he even makes it to your house.

He’s three minutes away. He’s already breaking a sweat. He keeps one hand on the wheel while he runs the other through his hair. He doesn’t really care too much about how he looks, what he really cares about is you and your reaction to his sudden late night appearance.

Two minutes.

His hands begin to get clammy on the wheel. He gets tunnel vision. He has to make it to your house as soon as possible.

One minute.

There’s no more traffic lights, your apartment building is slightly farther away from all the commotion in the busier part of town.

Before he knows it, he’s parking his car in the spot he always does, right in front of the building.

He looks at himself in the mirror of his car one more time before he’s getting out.

He’s not dressed properly, and the rain is pelting hard on him. He quickly runs from one side of the car to the other.

He begins to grab the items from his passenger seat. The flowers, the stuffed animal, the coffee, and the card. He hides the card under his shirt so it doesn’t get wet. He’ll make sure of it.

He’s already completely soaked, his hair looks rough and his clothes have darker shaded spots from the rain drops that attacked him outside.

He safely made it inside the building, shaking his head and running his hands through it once more, trying to make sure it doesn’t look so bad. He slightly shivers, but then easily settles when he feels the warmth of the heater swallow him.

He has a spare key to your room, he always has. He checks your location again, and from what it looks like, you should be in the living room.

He walks through the stairwell, just to be sure he doesn’t get spotted in the elevator, as well as a micro punishment for himself.

He finally makes it to your floor without a struggle, though he does seem to be breathing a bit heavy.

Kai begins to beeline towards your apartment, number 106.

He finds your room number mounted to the wall on a cheap looking plaque.

His first instinct is to immediately unlock your door and apologize pathetically for everything he’s done. Instead, he knocks, forgetting that’s what he’s supposed to do.

After waiting a while and a pep talk, he finally builds up the courage to knock. He tries to knock like a normal person, but he can’t help but do his signature, rhythmic knock.

He’s embarrassed at himself, but tries to paste on a smile.

You hear the knock and it immediately spooks you. You weren’t going to answer, as it’s currently 10pm, but you notice that familiar sound. The noise lures you towards the door. You're very confused. That’s Kai’s knock. But why would Kai be here at ten o’clock?

You check through the peep hole of your door. You’re surprised but also not when you see a soaking wet Kai outside your door. Holding…flowers?

He hears you begin to undo the locks in your door and his head immediately perks up. His hand gains a slight tremble.

When you open the door, you see Kai’s eyes glitter. You're still in your pajamas and slippers, embarrassed at your look. Kai has a casual outfit that he usually wears.

“Kai…?” You say, completely confused. His head drops like he’s shying away from you. “Hi.” He mumbles in an almost inaudible tone.

“What happened to you? You’re dripping! Did you not dress for the rain?” You asked in a concerned tone, even though you already know the answer.

“No I didn’t. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I needed to get to you as soon as possible.”

You notice him slightly shaking and gesture at him to come inside. As much as you don’t want to be, you feel bad for him.

He puts everything down in an organized way and presents it to you.

“[y/n] I’m really sorry for everything I’ve done. I never wanted to ruin our relationship.”

You smile, but that’s the only reaction you give.

Kai looks instantly sad at your under reaction. He tries to point out everything to you. “Well,” he points to the coffee he placed on the counter. “I memorized your coffee order so I could bring it to you whenever you needed before you’d ask.” He says. “I also got it decaf because I remember you mentioning that.”

You look at him with a pout on your face. As much as you don’t want to react, still trying to hold a grudge, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter a little more.

“I got you these as well because I remember you talking about how you'd always wanted to pick some yourself.” He says holding the bouquet.

Your pout grows even larger.

“And I got you this because I always see it on your wishlist, and, here.” He finishes as he hands you the card.

“Kai-“ you try to speak but you get a wave of sadness and happiness all together. “No one has ever done this for me.” You say, your voice is a little shaky.

You begin to walk towards him to hug him, his arms open in an instant.

His embrace is warm, despite his wet clothes.

“I love you, pretty.” He says to you, stroking your hair.

“I love you too Kai. So much. I’m sorry for being a petty bitch.” You say with a half laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for being complicated.” He replies with genuine apologies.

He gazes down at you and you look right up back at him.

He lands a quick peck on your lips, which you don’t mind at all. You're already sleepy anyway.

The rest of the night is filled with laughter from you both, more kissing, you drinking your coffee, cuddling, and appreciating Kai’s gifts.

No matter the struggles you two have been through together, you always find a way back to each other, and you’re right where you want to be.

The night ends with Kai sleeping in your bed again, you both cuddling, savoring each other’s warmth.

“[y/nnie]?” He whispers. “Yeah?” You reply. “I love you, and I don’t want anyone else but you.” You pause, not knowing how to respond.

“Me too Kai, me too.”

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even though his posture was lacking stability, beomgyu was the first one to speak. after a small moment passed after you walked in, his tone is nervous and filled with sorrow, “there was a notebook. one with a lot of information about portals.”

you lock eyes with the fairy once more before approaching him for an embrace, but instead of happily obliging like he usually would, he only winces and turns away.

“what information did it give us?” taehyun speaks from the kitchen, walking closer with a cup of water and some snacks to help ground beomgyu a bit more.

but he doesn’t reply. he couldn’t make another word without experiencing the moment once more. not doing so quietly encouraged you to continue on his behalf.

“portals can be man-made or natural, depending if destiny deems it worthy,” you recall, voice gentle as not to provoke anything painful for the mind fairy. “it’s a wild concept honestly. portals being created by destiny and all.”

“but that’s something that happened with us, is it not?” yeonjun butts in from the sofa. “none of our portals were made by us, and we just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“correct,” you add, nodding slowly. “from what we saw, man-made ones are intentional portals that are made by some organizations called the fairy hunters and fairy keepers.”

“interesting… but what does this really tell us? we can’t make them by hand so we need the ones being made by destiny, right? how can we work with those in getting you back home?” yeonjun continues pressing on for more information, a slight confusion being written on his face.

all they have done for you is help you find your way home. but as you look toward beomgyu again, you feel as though all you have brought to them is stress and agony.

you’re filled with dread that anything more painful might occur. these five fairies mean a lot to you, and you’re constantly reminded about how much they care about you in return.

it makes the pain in your heart linger much harder.

“we could potentially recreate the same conditions as when they got here,” taehyun adds, handing beomgyu a basket of strawberries to eat. “same temperature, weather, etcetera. it would take a long while to recall and get it right, though. i’m sure that even if we do get the conditions right, if destiny does not allow, it has the possibility of not working.”

“me and yn came to the same conclusion.. about recreating the conditions. they said it was raining outside when they got transported through, didn’t you yn?” soobin sits down on the sofa next to the eldest. “so if we were to give it a chance, on the slightest possibility it could work, then we would have to wait until the rain comes.”

“now why would we do all of this in the rain? it could be dangerous, you know! the tides get higher when there’s a storm,” kai exclaims in slight fear from the door. “weather like that could harm us more than anything, soobin-hyung.”

soobin presses his lips together, “but what if it works, hyuka? we could get them home.”

“and what if it doesn’t?! what if this is all just some stupid mess that could lead to another one of us being traumatized or even worse, dead!”

the reality of kai’s statement brings everyone to a pause. it was a slight overreaction, but nonetheless a possible outcome with the conditions at hand.

sensing the tense atmosphere, the youngest breathes in through his nose and out from his mouth while gripping his star necklace tightly, “i like our little family of six, okay? i admit i am comfortable with where things are at now. i also know how much you want to get home, yn… i understand. but i just can’t shake the feeling of things going wrong, you know?”

“…i agree,” beomgyu speaks for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. “besides we don’t have much information about the water surrounding the island and of the conditions that brought you here in their entirety, yn.”

“but what if it does work?” you ask meekly, tears filling your own eyes as you struggle to decide on what to do. “i don’t care if i get hurt. i’m okay with that, as long as we try something… anything at this point.”

and despite most of the boys telling you how difficult the situation will be, how next to little everyone knows about how to get you home, a nagging feeling in your chest begins to arise. one that gives you a sense of urgency to leave.

not everyone can say that family is of most importance. a loyal, love-filled, and trustworthy relationship with those most close to you. but to huening kai, family is everything.

“i brought some flowers!” he beamed, dozens of beautiful flowers and foliage in his arm as he rushes to his sister’s side. “some of them i picked, and others were given to me by this lovely old lady nearby.”

bahiyyih beams in delight. her eyes growing wide at the color and size variety given by the messy bouquet, “did you give her your thanks?”

“of course i did,” the brother laughs gently, placing the flowers on the ground nearby his sister. “i told her how much you enjoy making those flower crowns and she just so happened to have a lot of them stockpiled from her gardening session. said something about the flowers blooming too fast for an old lady like her to handle.”

the sister giggles and reaches to look at some of the offerings, “i will definitely be making a wreath or something for her. does she live far?”

“definitely not. nearby the lake where we like to bathe.”

“perfect.”

love languages are those different forms of loving those around you, whether they be family or not. they consist of being in close proximity to the other like physical affection, or even giving and receiving affirming words from someone.

huening kai’s love language was gift giving. and he showed this with his sister more often than not. this came in the form of giving her flowers he picked during his stroll, sweet treats he bought from the market that morning, and books he’s borrowed from neighbors. anything that bahiyyih liked, she got.

family is built on love, is it not?

“so you know that merchant down by the hillside?” kai smiles goofily, clearly hiding something behind his back as he rocks on his heels waiting for his sister to respond.

“yes… what’s his name again?” bahiyyih doesn’t look up from the woven structure she is currently working on. “oh! jungwon, isn’t it?”

“yes, anyway. he finally had some books in stock this week! and i was able to snatch up a book on herbal med—”

“no way!” she screams as she rushes to grab the book from behind her brother’s back, not letting him even finish his sentence. “no way no way no way!”

kai laughs as he easily gives in and lets bahiyyih see the book he’s purchased for her, “i know how much you’ve been wanting to learn about medicine.”

“of all the things you have ever gotten me, kai. this one beats them all! thank you so so so much!” if her voice did not showcase how elated she was about receiving this book, the tears in her eyes definitely did.

and that is how kai nurtured his family. exploring the area nearby while looking for resources and always finding gifts to bring home to his sister. no matter the situation or circumstances they were in, the older brother always found a reason to see his sister smile.

it was a strong, loving familial bond between the two siblings. something so strong, nothing could ever break it down.

“sometimes when i lay at night, i think about that night… about how lucky i am still have you, oppa,” bahiyyih whispers under the moonlight with her brother next to her as they stare into the stars.

kai manages a small, knowing smile, “it’s not easy when memories flood your nightmares. i know, hiyyih.”

she only nods and leans her head against his shoulder, “i got you something. it’s nothing.. too extravagant or anything. and definitely nothing as meaningful as the gifts you’ve brought me.”

“a gift..? for me?” the brother whispers into her hair before pressing a gentle kiss onto her skull.

“mmm,” bahiyyih nods. “a friend of mine wanted to get a crown and didn’t have any coins as payment, so i agreed to a trade.”

as she finishes her sentence, the moonlight flickers onto a piece of jewelry in her hand. jewelry was definitely a rare find in their small village, and one look at the necklace with a star pendant, kai deemed it uniquely beautiful.

he reaches for the necklace gently, as if scared to ruin it to pieces with his unruly strength, “it’s so beautiful, hiyyih.”

she helps him put it on and smiles, “now when you’re out late at night exploring for resources for us, you can look at the necklace and still feel at home.”

“what do you mean you don’t care if you get hurt?” taehyun rises from his spot next to beomgyu, a hint of confusion and anger lingering on his face and tone of voice. “how can you say something like that, yn? we’re trying our best to get you home safely, you can’t disregard that no matter how you feel.”

you hesitate for a moment before replying, “i am not trying to disregard the care you have for me. i understand you want me safe. but i need to get home. i can’t wait any longer if it means bringing all of you pain.”

the heaviness in your heart becomes stronger despite your emotions being let out into the open, “i don’t like how much stress i’ve caused here. i want to get home.”

“okay, i understand what you mean, yn. but the point isn’t about getting you there safely or not,” yeonjun stands up from the sofa this time, eyebrows furrowed. “it is about getting you there to begin with. we are not even sure if our theories are correct. they are just speculation. what if you do get injured and it was all for nothing?”

“then at least we tried something!” you yell, nearly interrupting the fairy in front of you.

that brings another silence into the room.

your sudden desperation to leave was alarming to everyone. you seemed happy here and despite what occurred with beomgyu, none of the boys really understood why you needed to leave so urgently.

“this isn’t just about getting home so we don’t get hurt, isn’t it?” beomgyu speaks up and softly at that, finally getting on his feet to approach you. “talk to us, yn. tell us the real reason you feel so desperate to return to your home in these uncertain conditions.”

you swallow thickly in attempt to down the lump that is stuck in your throat, your eyes avoiding the five pairs staring straight at you awaiting a response. but nothing comes from your mouth. that sense of urgency is so clear within the room, but no one senses your next actions.

instead of leaning onto the boys who have shown you nothing but kindness and admiration, you run out the door.

“yn!”

you don’t turn back to see who reacts first. you can’t stomach the pain this impulse decision could cause and you try to convince yourself that you don’t care who follows after you.

“no... as i have iterated several times, getting this file submitted is an urgent matter and no time should be wasted on it any longer.”

phone call after phone call after phone call. that’s all preschool-aged you would see your father doing for most of every day you lived. phone calls you didn’t quite understand. phone calls you associated with your father ignoring you for a very long while.

all you wanted to do was see if your father was free to play, but with any phone call of his, you were met with a raised finger and a close of a door.

“yes, i indeed have the book in my hands. i thought there were several copies of it, why does the association need mine in particular?”

even behind closed doors you could still hear the phone calls at hand. these conversations were never quiet, as if your father did not care of what you could hear, especially with you at that age.

of course, as your grew older, he was more discreet about his job and less open about his phone calls.

“look, i do not mind giving access to my knowledge or to any of the classified information i have acquired. but i would really appreciate if i was told what for.”

preschool-aged you didn’t understand some of the words during these phone calls— words like ‘classified’ or ‘association’. all you really wanted to do was to play with your father.

so you sat right next to the door like you always do, in hopes that the phone call would end and the door would open up before the pretend tea got too cold for everyone to enjoy.

“you want access to my child’s dna? did i hear that correctly? i apologize, sir, but my child is not even of age yet. i understand that it is standard protocol for all children of fairy hunters, but they are not even 5 years of age. what could possibly be needed for someone so young?”

you smile happily as the warm teddy bear sits on your lap, you singing songs to it to drown out any of the anger and stress that blossomed from your father’s phone calls.

singing songs to your toys was your second favorite play activity, just behind the tea party you couldn’t wait to enjoy.

“…alright. i suppose the tracking situation has helped me in the past and could help yn eventually. it is also useful for me in case something goes awry. i’ll accept these circumstances as long as you don’t make it painful for them, you hear me?”

yeonjun with those stupidly kind eyes and a cute mole underneath one. the changling who saw you at your worst and held you when you needed it most. the man who stayed up for hours on end to find even a sliver of evidence that could help you get home. with his stupid words of encouragement and stupid touches of admiration.

soobin with his stupidly cute smile and beautifully toned skin. with his amazing way with the animals on the island. the man has been nothing but home to you since you arrived. with his stupidest soft lips that make you crave more of his attention. and his easy conversations that makes you want to dive into deeper ones.

beomgyu with his stupid dependence on you that you can’t help but feel so utterly loving towards. the man who has seen through all your emotions and worked so hard to ground you in times that you needed it most. the one who sacrificed so much just to get one inch of information.

taehyun with his knowledgeable mind and stupid, but honest way with words. the fairy who has shown you forgiveness despite you being so stubborn against. the man with such protectiveness over you, that you can’t help but just want to be with him until eternity. with his stupid love for journals and diaries that make you want to scream in awe.

and kai. sweet sweet kai with his faith in family and love. with his stupid words that make you feel like you finally belong somewhere when all you’ve known was being an outsider. the man who has silently kept you at bay this entire time and quietly watched you under the moonlight as a protector.

it’s so stupid. so very stupid how much you love them.

you love them and you admit it to yourself as rain pools into the mud your feet has been trudging against since you left the fairies’ home. your eyes sting from the mix of tears and rainwater, but you push on.

the cards dealt to your hands was nothing you had ever dreamed about. never would you have imagined yourself on a remote island with no where to go and no way home. never would you have imagined yourself near any sort of magical creature. and never would you have imagined yourself in love with five different men who’ve shown you how much it means to care for someone.

you couldn’t bear to confess this to them and the sense of urgency to leave only increases as you get closer and closer to the sanded beach.

it was true that you didn’t care about getting hurt. you did not care if it was too soon to set sail to a destination you had no idea of. and with everything wrong that has ever happened in your life, the sense of urgency was just you wanting to run away from the truth yet again.

you wanted to leave this stupid life on this island with the five beautiful and amazing men that you’ve grown to love.

step. step. step.

the squelching sound of the mud dies down and is replaced with soft steps in wet sand. whether or not the boat is ready is no matter to you as you grab the paddles laying next to where the forest meets the sand.

“yn!”

they continue to call for you, continue to reach for you when you so desperately need them to stop.

you can’t love them. you just can’t.

everything always seems to go wrong, which is why you increase the rate of your steps towards the boat.

they were a perfect family before you stepped in and began to induce stress and trauma. how could you want to stay in a place you did not clearly belong?

you weren’t a gentle fairy like them. you were human.

a fairy hunter’s child.

a monster.

an outsider.

a murderer.

these adjectives to describe you loom over your head and pound into your brain as you finally reach the boat. your breath is heavy and the combination of tears and rain only begin to fill your eyes even more.

the weather seems to increase in intensity as what was just a mere raincloud is now a thunderstorm. you took this as a sign to work even more quicker. despite knowing you leaving would hurt the boys, staying here any longer that could cause them more hurt was something you can’t handle the thought of.

you wanted to take your chances on this theory working.

“yn!” they call for you again, but you don’t listen.

the rate of your heart increases and you begin to lose feeling in your limbs with the coldness of the rain and wind. despite this, you manage to lock the paddles in place.

it was perfect. how everything was working out so well for you to finally leave this place. the boat seemed ready, the boys too far to stop you, and the rain not ceasing. but as you turn around to face the ocean, you see it receding into itself, a telltale sign of high tides to come.

“high tides, yn! high tides! get out of there!” yeonjun screams, but it’s no use.

by the time you have processed what was happening, the tide rushes in faster than you’re able to make it off the boat. it floods the entirety of it and more, causing the boat to shatter against its strength.

the sudden presence of the wave gives you no time to prepare for breathing, and your lungs feel pain as water fills them with each watery breath you accidentally take.

it was like destiny was keeping you here on the island. for what reason, you didn’t know and you didn’t care as you weakly cough out any water still left in your lungs. your vision blurred and you attempted to crawl to safety where the boys lingered, reaching your hand out to one of them.

any of them.

you cough out more water and the blurred figures in front of you still as you try to breathe in more oxygen. unable to make out all five of them, you solely focus on the one closest to you.

beomgyu is it? you can’t tell.

your breathing continues to heave, the thunderstorm above all of you making it difficult to supply your lungs with precious oxygen.

“b-beomie!” you call out and as you do so, you see his eyes widen large and his body stops moving closer to you.

it is then when a sharp pain fills your temple and all you see is black.

When you pictured yourself grown up you always had a very set plan.

Graduate, go to college — maybe get your masters.

Life doesn't always happen like that.

It's not completely off the table right now, you're just — living.

When you applied to this job you were desperate, fresh out of high school, not a clue of the real world or what it holds for you.

That same day you learn a guy was in a similar boat to you — and you instantly bonded.

Beomgyu, who graduated the year before, sitting across from you, somehow the bartender interviewing you despite not even being the boss — you don't really question it.

From that day you were hooked.

The job becoming an unsteady but undeniably big part of your life.

Not just a source of income but entertainment and a lot of great memories.

And also where you met your favourite people ever — not that you'd tell them that.

Keeho, one of the first people you met on the job, your trainer as a server. instantly took a liking to you, pulling you into their little group.

Yunjin, who was hired as a bar back shortly after you, somehow the only other girl in the bar staff, instantly bonding over endless drinks.

A perk of working in a bar.

Then there was Beomgyu.

Beomgyu, who was your best friend, nobody could say otherwise.

quickly you grew to be attached at the hip practically, also helps he's friends with whoever the son of the owner is so he manipulates his way into having you on whenever he is.

It's perfect, it's not what you expected to do but it's perfect.

then you may have fucked up.

You honestly don't know how it happened.

Well — you do, you work in a bar, endless alcohol and a hot best friend, it's not exactly a cocktail of good choices.

You were closing late one night — Keeho escaping from closing with a simple I owe you.

Yunjin left early, a small emergency — you live together so you don't know how you fell for that one honestly.

Beomgyu had just gotten broken up with — well, his on and off again relationship or situationship ended, and as the supportive and amazing best friend you are — his words not yours.

You stayed.

And drank.

Anddd ended up in the supply closet —

Naked.

Somehow you ended back at his apartment and waking up the next morning was not as fun as you would think.

Confused, hungover, Yunjin calling you asking where you are — when you reply Beomgyu's she doesn't think anything of it.

Because he's your best friend, of course it's normal to spend the night at his place.

Meeting him in the kitchen that morning was not particularly fun.

very awkward.

A lot left unsaid, what do you even say in this position?

So you leave.

And see him that night at work.

The whole shift you worked up the courage to talk to him, you planned to do it on your break and you nearly do!

Nearly.

Instead ending up in the bathroom, back against the door, his hand covering your mouth, begging you to be quiet for him while fingering you with little intent on stopping.

So, instead of talking about it, it just blurred into your life.

Somehow the friendship was the same, just with sex, you still teased each other endlessly, he was still your person.

It just came with benefits now!

Late night movies ended differently, boring and slow shifts made a lot more fun.

Gossiping about the other hotel staff who come to him to drink away their problems.

Whenever you talk briefly about a random hotel staff making a pass on you he always seems so interested on finding out all the details — brushing it off with a small smile, only days later they come up to you profusely apologising, mumbling something about you not being single?

You know it's Beomgyu, because he is suspiciously interested and always pops up after it happens, mumbling something small. Glad he apologised, you don't need them distracting you from work.

Distractions from work? As if he wasn't fucking you in the cellar when you were meant to be serving a very important wedding party their drinks.

You start questioning him when you mention off handed that you were talking to this caterer and of course, he seemed interested, and when the guy weirdly starts ghosting you and apologising saying he was busy all Beomgyu said was a quick, well — you deserved better anyways.

The relationship bordered on something more than friends but not enough for you to question it, all the coincident are just that, coincidences right? I mean it's Beomgyu, he's your Beomgyu it cant be anything more — you definitely don't have feelings for Beomgyu —

You think.

Well you were sure — until she came back into his life.

She being Yuna, his ex — well, they never made it official but may as well be his ex.

He claims she's just being friendly, that they have to be in each others lives because they share a friend group or whatever.

It started with Yuna randomly calling and him leaving to take said calls, even if he was busy with you!

It's a Tuesday night, it basically empty besides the regulars who arent even hotel guests but love the cheap booze here.

Keeho and Yunjin are gossiping near by about whatever hotel drama is happening — sometimes this place reminds you of high school with everyone sleeping or fighting with someone.

Beomgyu is behind the bar, sorting out whatever the manager forgot to do this morning, while you're siting on the small crate keeping up conversation while you're on break.

"Im just saying — I dont see why she needs to constantly talk to you, you've broken up." You mumble just loud enough for him to hear you, your hands messing around with a loose thread on your shirt, not daring to look up at him.

Beomgyu freezes for a split second, this topic always gets brought up and while he sees your perspective — she hurt him, she's technically an ex, why would he keep in contact with her?

"We're just organising something for Jeongin, it's not a big deal." He shrugs it off, wiping down the bar, when someone calls him over to get a drink, leaving you alone.

You can hear the small laugh coming from where Yunjin and Keeho are now staring at you, clearly overhearing the conversation between you and Beomgyu.

"Not funny." You say flatly, trying to ignore the growing grin on Keeho's face.

"It kinda is." Clearly trying to hold back a laugh, Yunjin pushing his shoulder as you let out a groan.

You haven't heard anything about Yuna in a bit, maybe she's finally backed off — or realised that Beomgyu does in fact not want her anymore —

That thought lasted a total of 2 days, because when you enter the bar, excited to start your shift for once, none other than Yuna is sitting at the bar talking to Beomgyu.

Your eyes dart to Yunjin who is making another persons drink, shooting you a small sympathetic look before focusing back on the drink.

You approach Keeho who is cleaning up a table, when he hears you coming he glaces back at Beomgyu and Yuna then back at you.

"She's been here for 30 minutes, hasn't ordered anything and keeps giving him those eyes."

You drag out a groan, digging your palms into your eyes before taking a breath. "I dont see what he sees in her." You whisper.

Keeho hums in amusement looking over at the bar, seeing Yuna clearly flirting with Beomgyu then back at you, your expression mirroring one as if you ate a lemon.

"She's hot, they have history." Keeho says calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay? I just dont see why he needs her when —" The rest of your words die on the tip of your tongue, huffing before you cross your arms, staring daggers into the back of Yuna's head.

"— When he has you?" Keeho's words bring you back to reality, not even denying them at this point.

"It's not simple Keeho."

"It is, you both like each other, you've already had sex, you're both too scared to actually talk despite being best friends."

You cant say anything to defend yourself, you cant — he's right, even if you will never admit that out loud.

Your eyes never leave the scene in front of you, watching as Beomgyu smiles at her, her casually brushing his hand — you cant stand it.

Before you can properly think you're walking over there, Keeho cant even stop you. When you finally can process you're right next to Yuna by the bar, both of them looking at you.

"Can you do your job, Beomgyu?" You scoff, glaring at Yuna for a moment, ignoring Beomgyu holding back a smile.

Like nails on a chalk board Yuna cuts Beomgyu off before he can reply. "I'm ordering a drink actually."

"And distracting him when he has a job to do." You say flatly, Yuna notices the shift in the air, giving a fake cough before standing up, giving Beomgyu a small smile, it goes instantly when she looks at you. "I'll see you around."

When you can no longer hear her footsteps you look back at Beomgyu, unable to read his expression.

"She was just coming to talk about Jeongin's party." You shoot Beomgyu a look before scoffing walking off to the back area, Beomgyu quickly following behind you.

"I dont see what the big deal is! You basically scared her away." Beomgyu quickly catches up to you, walking besides you.

You scoff in disbelief. "God — sorry for not being welcoming to the girl who kept leading you on for months." You roll your eyes at him turning a corner to the hotels employee hallways.

"Im over that y/n, and it's not like that — plus she's seeing someone else." He rambles, running his hand through his hair exasperated.

she stops walking, standing in the middle of the hallways, thankful it's clear and there's no employees walking around.

"Then why was she all over you, huh?"

Beomgyu freezes, almost as if the gears are turning in his head before he grins, looking at you as if he finally figured it out.

"You were jealous." He states as if it was a fact — which it was but he didn't need to know that.

"I was not."

"You totally were." He steps closer to you, instinctively you step back but he quickly invades your space, pressing you against the wall, his fingers grazing over your cheek looking at you.

"You're imagining things." You mumble under your breath, not daring to look at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

"You were worried I wanted her back?" He ignores your comment, talking to you like he's more telling then asking.

You dont say anything — not wanting to give him anything but he can see right through you.

Beomgyu's eyes are locked on you, feeling him stare at you. "Cmon — say it." His voice dropping to a low whisper, making you shiver.

"Say what?" You can barely speak, your voice breaking slightly on the first word, your answer only making him smile wider and move closer to you.

"Don't act cute."

"I thought you liked that im cute?"

The tension is palpable, you can practically feel the heat radiating from him, distantly hearing hotel commotion in every direction.

"I also like when you're not acting like a brat — but I guess you have selective hearing."

You suck in a sharp breath, your whole body feels like it's floating almost, everything feeling out of body — despite sleeping together so many times, you've never seen him like this.

When you dont answer him he back you into the wall, his knee quickly pressing against her cunt over her pants, a surprised gasp escaping you. "Beomgyu."

"You gonna be good for me? After acting like a little brat the last few weeks?" When you don't answer him again he gets impatient, pressing his knee harder against your pussy, your hands flying to his arms to steady yourself, your forehead leaning against his shoulder.

Almost completely different from his previous actions he presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. "It's okay, pretty — I got you." He coos, his hands settling on your hips as he guides you through the hallway.

Before you can process you're pulled into the familiar dark closet, the dark room flooding with light with a small click.

You're about to say something — maybe fight back, clear your name? Maybe deny it all together but you cant.

Quickly Beomgyu's lips are against yours. The ever growing tension finally snapping, months of unspoken feelings and dull feelings of jealousy on both ends, finally pouring out.

Moaning desperately into his mouth, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you to the ground.

His tongue pushing into your mouth licking into yours, marking you as his. His hands moving from the spot next to you on the wall to your hip, kneading at the flesh groaning against your lips.

He only pulls back from you to press sloppy kisses against your neck, mumbling barely coherently against the exposed flesh. "You being jealous — it's cute."

You can practically feel the smirk against your skin, just before you can protest his fingers skim right over the band of your pants, all thoughts escaping you, your brain filled with only thoughts of him — how badly you need him right now.

His lips move across your exposed collarbone, his hands drifting up to cup your tits over your clothes, a small whine escaping, instinctively leaning forward to him.

He only hums in response, nipping at your skin before pulling your shirt quickly over your head, tossing it near the pile of boxes.

Your hands fly to behind you, holding onto the counter top, your legs feeling weak from how Beomgyu is acting.

Beomgyu practically whines at the sight of your near bare chest, covered by a flimsy bra doing nothing to cover your nipples pebbling through the thin fabric.

"Look at you, baby — practically begging f'me." He hums against your skin, sinking down to his knees, kissing down your body.

Making the mistake of looking down at him while his lips graze over your waist band — Beomgyu's eyes immediately meeting yours, with a final kiss he pulls back ], his eyes never wavering from yours, an almost devilish smile widens on his lips as his fingers loop through your pants pulling them down.

"God, what is wrong with — you!" You're mid sentence when Beomgyu licks a stripe over your panties, pressing his tongue over your covered clit, your hands flying to his hair, tugging on the dark locks.

"Fuck you're soaked mama — look at you.." His words almost coming out as a laugh mixed with a moan, his eyes practically glued to your pussy — your panties sticking to it from a mix of his spit and your arousal.

When he makes no move to do anything — you buck into his face, his hands moving to hold your hips in place, pulling a deep laugh from him, his fingers gliding down your skin, grazing over the band of your panties, slowly pulling them down, now caring what happens to them.

His face presses instantly into your bare cunt, moaning as his lips wrap around your aching clit, one of his hands leaving your though, to collect the slick glistening on your pussy.

Beomgyu is practically moaning into your cunt, his tongue circling your clit, sucking on it hard, his finger circling your hole before pressing two fingers in with no warning.

The sudden fullness only makes everything feel so much more, nearly toppling over, using Beomgyu to keep your balance, your head thrown back, cautious of making too much noise, not wanting anyone who could be walking by to hear.

Even if they couldn't hear the faint moans escaping from you, they could sure hear the wet sound of Beomgyu's lips on your clit sucking on it, along with his fingers buried deep into your pussy, your walls sucking him in.

Quickly Beomgyu's fingers leave you, your cunt already aching at the loss of him. Almost as quickly he licks all over your slit, lapping up all the juices you've leaked out of your cunt.

Beomgyu moans at the taste of you — utterly obsessed with you.

His tongue prods at your entrance, the tip of his tongue circling your hole, teasing you endlessly.

"Beomgyu —" Your voice broken, fingers tug on Beomgyu's hair, unsure if you're pulling him away from you or pulling him closer. Either way Beomgyu moans against you — the vibrations only making you moan louder, barely giving any regard for the fact you're still at work.

The broken sound of your voice calling his name only turns him on more, his tongue pushing into your cunt, the wet sound of his mouth on you echoing through the small room.

The familiar feeling of your orgasm building takes over, your hips having a mind of their own, grinding down into Beomgyu's face, your bottom lip nearly bleeding from how hard you're biting on it.

Just as you can feel yourself tipping over the edge — it stops, the building pleasure fading as Beomgyu pulls slightly away from your pussy.

"What the hell! Gyu what —" You look down at him, your brows furrowed, just as you look down his finger presses harshly against your sensitive clit, making your knees buckle slightly.

"You honestly think you deserve to cum?" His voice is low, the subtle vibration against your thigh as he presses a soft kiss against it only makes you whine.

"Please.." You whimper, trying your best to grind against his fingers but his other hand keeps you in place — all the build up of your orgasm fading quickly.

"Tell me the truth and you can cum — it's that simple." He nearly shrugs, acting as if the was the most casual conversation happening. While talking his fingers rub harshly on your clit, nearly making you topple over onto him, soft moans escaping you.

You can't even talk anymore — too drunk on the feeling of him, desperately rutting into his hand, the duel sensation of his lips on your thigh and his fingers rubbing on your clit — it's too much and not enough.

Beomgyu's eyes never leave yours — watching your expression, your lips parted as you moan softly , brows scrunched, noticing how you cam barely keep your eyes open. "Thought you wanted to cum, angel.."

You whine in response, your brain working in overdrive, barely able to process anything but pleasure.

Feeling Beomgyus fingers flow against your clit, you start sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, your breathing growing unsteady between your tears and your moans.

"F-fine I was jealous okay!" Your words barely make sense but Beomgyu understands, feeling him grin against your thigh, his fingers move from your clit, being replaced with his mouth, sucking you through your orgasm which quickly comes crashing over you.

Beomgyu sucks you through your orgasm, licking all over your cunt, drinking up your cum, your moans mixing as you come down from your high.

Slowly, Beomgyu stands up, his hands sliding up your body. One settling on your neck the other on your waist.

Pulling Beomgyu towards you, messily kissing him with not rhythm, tasting yourself on his tongue — you can only moan in response to his hand squeezing your throat for a split second before pulling back, a string of spit connecting your lips.

Pulling back from you, you finally get to really look at Beomgyu.

His lips swollen and slick with a mix of spit and cum, his cheeks and ears flushed pink while his eyes are dark, his long hair a mess and some part tuck to his forehead — and he's looking at you like you're his solace.

Beomgyu pulls you out of your daze with a small tap to your waist, looking behind you at the counter — helping you jump up to sit on it, your eyes never leaving him.

That is until he starts fumbling with his belt, pulling down his jeans and boxers in one go, watching as his cock his his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his tip.

His hand rests on your thigh as his other one strokes his cock, a small whine escaping through his lips as his thumb glides over the tip. He moves over, standing between your legs, his fingers moving between your lugs, gathering up your cum to prep himself with it.

Before you can even think he's sinking into you — giving you no time to adjust to the fullness.

Instinctively you lean your head against the wall, a loud broken moan escaping from your throat. Your nails dig into his shoulders, His hand moving from your hip to your mouth, covering and muffling any sound that escapes as he pulls out of you before thrusting back into you roughly — his tip grazing that sweet spot with every push.

"Better be quiet angel — dont want anyone hearing you, huh?" He groans into your eat, his hand finding it's way to your tits, his thumb gliding over your perked nipple. A string of muffled moans echo through the room.

All you can think of is the feeling of his thick cock driving through you — filling you up perfectly,your cunt clenching around him with every mean thrust.

Beomgyu is no better — no matter how many times you've fucked, he's addicted to the way you take him, your tight pussy clenching around him — nearly pushing him out, the precise attack on that spot that makes you near delirium.

The pace makes everything against the walls rattle, if people walked by they would immediately know. The room smells like sex — the distinct smell of sweat and whatever stupidly expressive cologne Beomgyu was wearing — knowing it drives you insane.

Your legs ache from the edge of the counter pushing into the plush of your thighs with every thrust but you cant find yourself caring. Looking down between you and Beomgyu, watching his cock disappear into your dripping cunt.

Your nails drag down his broad shoulders, immediately turning red, His relentless rutting into you mixed with the addictive sounds he's making pushes you over the edge, spasming around his cock, while he fails to muffle the near screams you're letting out.

"Thats it — good girl, doing so well for me — shit, gonna cum inside okay? Gotta remind you, who you belong to." Beomgyu is too far gone — your cunt gushing around his cock, the wet sounds of him fucking your cum back into you.

His orgasm crashes over him in a wave — his thrusts never seizing, fucking his cum into you, watching as his cock drags out, the ring of cum pooling at the base only making him even more insane.

He keeps fucking both of you through your orgasm, you cling to any part of him you can, mumbling incoherent babbles against his shoulder.

Slowly as both of your highs fade, his thrusts grow sloppier and slower, stopping only when you mumble his name.

Beomgyu stays stationary inside for you a moment before pulling out, watching as the mix of both of your cum drips out of your cunt, coating your thighs.

Holding back a grin he grabs some tissues from a near by box cleaning you up silently.

Now that you can finally process what happened — what both of you said, you feel embarrassed, stupid really — considering he's your best friend, it's not like what you said would change anything right?

"Hey."

You're immediately pulled from your thighs when Beomgyu looks at you, uncharacteristically soft, compared to what he was doing mere minutes ago.

He presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers lacing with yours , his other hand resting on your cheek forcing you to look at him.

"Yuna is seeing someone else — there's no reason to be jealous, even if it's kinda hot." He breaks the tension with an ill timed joke, which you weakly hit him for, a small smile breaking out.

"I know."

A few seconds pass before Beomgyu speaks again. "It's always been you, that's why Yuna ended it the last time — she knew, and I guess I did too, I just didn't wanna ruin us."

You soften instantly, your body relaxing at his words — all the weight leaving your body almost at his confession. "We're idiot."

He doesn't say anything before leaning in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip, soothing the small bump from you biting down on it.

Beomgyu's about to deepen the kiss when —

"Are you guys done in there? Owners wondering where you are!"

✉️ — @nanilis @beomiracles @izzyy-stuff @yvampyr @kookiesnkim @owlieuwu @seungminsslut @hyukascampfire @yawngnab @hoonicon @rianzysworld @soobabbee @nainai112 @drkbl00d @lottiesls @xhoinicx @b4echo

💐— @tttubatttu @narratedforbutterflies @rrraiinn @metalcreatorhologram

✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 7, 2026. 4 PM

The next week returned to normal, and you were forced to admit that, these days, normal meant finding Yeonjun loitering in the lobby every time you came home from university.

His excuse on Monday was a delivery. He claimed to be waiting for a very important parcel, and the courier, the bloody idiot, was running late.

Nodding sympathetically, you dropped your bag onto the small table beneath the noticeboard. The surface was carved through with initials and obscene drawings that did not look particularly anatomically correct.

“Well, in that case,” you said, “I’ll wait with you.”

Yeonjun pressed his lips together the moment he felt the corners trying to betray him.

“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I appreciate your support in my time of need.”

“You’re welcome. What’d you order?”

He launched into a wholly incomprehensible explanation about online shopping: the misleading product photos, the contradictory reviews, the fictional delivery windows. He spoke with such determination and at such speed that there wasn’t a gap wide enough to interrupt. By the time he began a passionate indictment of courier companies on the whole, you’d almost forgotten what you’d asked.

Several of your neighbours passed through in the time you’d been standing there, checked their letterboxes, and headed upstairs—notably, all of them avoided the lift. A few older ladies shot the two of you curious glances as they went. You smiled politely while Yeonjun continued to state his case.

Half an hour later, the courier still hadn’t come.

“Think he’s just lost track of time,” Yeonjun insisted, glancing at his phone. “I say we wait another half an hour, just to be on the safe side.”

Sighing, you jerked your head towards the stairs. “Come on.”

“But what about my parcel?”

“You’ll get another call.” You gathered your backpack. “We’ve got a film to watch.”

His expression finally surrendered to a smile as he pushed himself off the wall.

The lobby had been perfectly nice—although there had, of course, never been any parcel to begin with—but Yeonjun was far more thrilled by the prospect of a few more hours with you upstairs.

Today was the day of your Lord of the Rings marathon.

As it turned out, building the pillow fort exactly as described in his childhood bucket list wasn’t difficult. Yeonjun didn’t own a single table or much furniture at all, but, for some reason, he had enough mattresses to furnish a small hotel. He brought them in from the storage room, his wardrobe, from behind doors, and even from the balcony.

The pizzas arrived somewhere in the middle of this operation, and all you could do was hold the boxes and stare at him. “Yeonjun.”

He glanced up. “Hm?”

“How—how many of those have you got?”

Grinning, he dropped another mattress onto the growing pile. “Well, a few.”

“Mhmm.”

You left the boxes on the kitchen island and grabbed one end of the nearest mattress, pulling it upright to form a wall.

An odd scent lingered in the flat under the tomato sauce and melting mozzarella—buttery and sweet, faintly caramel-like. It wafted through the room whenever the breeze stirred the curtains hanging over the cracked balcony door.

You sniffed the air distractedly.

Yeonjun paused on his way back to the storage room.

“Baked earlier,” he explained. “Strawberry tart.”

You looked up from the mattresses.

It still made your brain stall a little, hearing him mention baking. It seemed like a hobby for patient people. Slow-living people. People who, perhaps, did not hoard mattresses.

“How’d you start baking, then?” you asked, stepping carefully over Violet, who had arranged herself in the middle of the floor as the Head Supervisor. No one crossed the room without obtaining a permit first.

Yeonjun lugged another mattress inside, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Just happened, sort of,” he said. “Usually haven’t got time to cook, but baking is—s’ten minutes of chucking everything together, and then you just wait forty-five minutes for it to finish. S’easy. And soothing, I guess. Bit like meditation.”

He caught the mattress against his knee when it slipped. His arms were beginning to complain.

You crouched beside him, catching the opposite corner.

“Thanks,” he huffed.

Together, you manoeuvred the mattress into place in front of the projector, which was balanced on an upturned cardboard box, its lens aimed at the blank white wall of his living room.

“Must’ve had a lot of practice,” you said, “if you can get everything measured and mixed in ten minutes.”

A grin spread across his face. “Natural talent.”

Then he disappeared onto the balcony again and returned with yet another mattress.

You were becoming increasingly reluctant to ask why he owned so many. The last time you’d been here to find a place for his fern—which was still alive, against all odds—you hadn’t paid enough attention to notice any of them. Now you were worried they were breeding somewhere just out of sight.

Yeonjun adjusted the mattress against his shoulder.

“I used to do my homework in the kitchen,” he said, letting the latest addition fall with a soft thump against the floor. Then he heaved it upright to shape the opposite wall. “Nina, our chef back then, always baked desserts in the afternoons. I watched her a lot. Didn’t think much about it again until about a year ago, when I couldn’t shut my brain off.”

Your gaze drifted to the floor, where Violet was inspecting the mattresses.

You were thinking about all the rituals you had built over the past year: losing yourself in books, in research, in work. You supposed you’d come close to picking up baking, too.

“Alcohol didn’t help anymore,” Yeonjun went on, “and I still had that plan not to become an alcoholic before m’thirty.”

The corners of your lips twitched. “Right.”

You squatted beside Violet and nudged the mattress at the back a few inches to the left until the walls resting against it stopped wobbling.

“So I tried baking instead,” Yeonjun said. “Started with a pound cake, I remember. Tasted like sandpaper because I’d left it in too long. Kept sticking toothpicks in it, and they kept coming out damp. I don’t know.”

You smiled, bringing a hand over Violet’s chin before you stood again. “That happens. The edges get burnt, but the middle stays soft.”

“Exactly, yeah.” He dragged the mattress upright to brace the back wall, then stepped away to assess the angle. “But—anyway. I kept going and got the hang of it eventually. Turns out my old oven was rubbish. Then I moved here and the oven’s brilliant. Turns out it’s my whisking that’s shit now.”

You looked up at him. “You’re doing alright, though. The cobbler was great last time. And the biscuits.”

Yeonjun looked at you over the top of the mattress. Something softened almost imperceptibly in his gaze—you’d have missed it if you hadn’t been looking.

You’d been looking.

“Yeah?” A small smile tugged at his mouth before he glanced away. “I’m glad. Let’s put a roof on this.”

The two of you threw the largest blanket—thick and grey with faded white stripes—over the standing mattresses. It billowed for a moment, caught in the draft, then settled across the top, dipping slightly in the middle and casting the inside of the fort into shade.

The arrangement looked very respectable.

Yeonjun thought that thirteen-year-old him would’ve been very proud.

He switched on the projector. The fan whirred softly before a pale rectangle appeared across the opposite wall, filling the flat with flickering light. Dust drifted lazily through the beam.

Tilting your head, you surveyed the fort. “Have you got any pillows? Or did they not make it into the mattress budget?”

Snorting, Yeonjun raised a finger and disappeared down the corridor. You heard cupboard doors banging open in his bedroom, then something heavy dropping, followed shortly by a muffled ow, shit.

“Y’alright?” you called out.

“Perfect, love! The rolling pin—forgot I’d left it here.”

He reappeared a second later with his face barely visible behind an armful of pillows. One slipped free. He made an attempt to catch it with his foot and nearly demolished the western wall of the fort in the process.

“Shit.” He straightened. You reached out to grab the top few pillows from him. “Thanks.”

“Right, then.” You tossed them onto the mattresses on the floor. “Reckon you’ve got enough stuff to furnish three bedrooms with all this. Opening up a B&B in the future, or what?”

He laughed and, impressively, still didn’t explain. Instead, he dumped the remaining pillows into the fort and leaned down to arrange them.

Violet, understandably, climbed aboard to test it out first. After several thorough sniffs, she declared the fort structurally sound and returned to the kitchen to investigate the pizza boxes as well, hopeful that one might open up if she was just persistent enough.

Yeonjun intercepted before she succeeded, carrying the boxes and the cans of cola over to the fort. You followed with two slices of strawberry tart. The crust was still warm when you pressed a fingertip against it to stop the slice from sliding across the plate.

The living room looked ridiculous now with the mattresses covering most of the floor. The blanket on the roof nearly grazed the ceiling. It smelled of something distinctly comforting, though: fresh laundry, warm pizza, strawberries, and beneath it all—faint enough that you only noticed when Yeonjun leaned past you to set the boxes down—apricot, for some reason.

It felt lived in now, the flat. Cosy.

Without quite realising it, you smiled as you settled beside him under the blankets.

The first film started quietly.

The two of you talked in low voices, instinctively leaning closer as though there was someone else in the fort you might disturb.

Violet was the only other occupant of the fort, and she was not disturbed. She stretched luxuriously across the pillow between you, indifferent to the hobbits but inexplicably riveted by Gollum’s brief appearances. Her whiskers were faintly pink from the strawberry she’d stolen off Yeonjun’s plate.

She looked very satisfied with her evening.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and reached for your second slice of pizza. It came out painted green by the projector light.

“Have you got a favourite character?” Yeonjun asked about half an hour into the film.

“Aragorn.”

That made him look over. “Wow—just off the top of your head, then?”

Shrugging, you took a bite. Cheese stretched between the slice and your teeth before finally snapping. It tasted spectacular, just acidic enough from the tomato sauce.

“Didn’t like The Fellowship the first time I saw it,” you admitted once you’d swallowed. “My cousins made me watch it. Aragorn was the only reason I stuck with it.”

Yeonjun hummed in understanding. He’d fallen asleep during his own first attempt at the trilogy, too.

“Not Legolas, then?” he asked, picking up another slice while gently steering Violet’s investigating nose away from the box with his wrist.

You brushed a few crumbs onto your joggers.

“No,” you said. “Always thought something’s off about hair that pretty. Never trusted him.”

Yeonjun snorted into his pizza.

Then he straightened.

“Hang on.” He lowered the slice. “Is my hair not pretty?”

Your gaze drifted to his neatly parted fringe—save for the single rebellious strand that tumbled over his forehead every few minutes, testing your self-control each time.

You turned back to the film. “I’ve always found you suspicious too, to be fair.”

His laughter bounced off the blanket roof, bright enough to fill the fort. Your own smile spread despite Frodo’s increasingly worried face on the wall ahead.

“Have you got a favourite, then?” you asked.

Yeonjun watched the screen for several thoughtful seconds.

“Pippin, I think,” he decided.

“Yeah? Not Merry?”

“Merry’s too serious.” He smiled when you snorted. “Always preferred Pippin’s whimsy.”

“Alright, yeah.” You nodded, reaching for another slice. “Pippin’s great.”

As the Fellowship set off from Rivendell on the screen, Yeonjun launched into an explanation of the complete evolution of his favourite characters – from Gandalf when he’d been six, because his nanny, Leigh, always put on fantasy films and had a soft spot for the wizard, to Sam briefly in secondary school, and finally to Pippin around his mid-twenties.

“I did briefly dabble in Aragorn,” he admitted. “But he’s too cool for me, I feel. Too collected.”

“Gandalf isn’t?”

“No, he’s got crazy eyes.”

You laughed and, somewhere during the conversation, stopped paying attention to the film altogether. It didn’t feel like much of a loss.

The first pizza box emptied not long afterwards.

“Have you got a favourite film in the series?” you asked, lifting your can of cola while distant mountains lingered on the screen, throwing dark, faintly indigo shadows over Yeonjun’s face.

He drained the last mouthful from his own can and clicked his lips thoughtfully.

“The first one, I think.” He folded the empty can into his palm. “Mostly because I’ve seen it most times.”

“Hmm.”

“What about you?”

“Definitely not the first one.”

His eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

“Boromir dies.”

His eyebrows fell again. “Ah, shit. Yeah.”

“I was eleven the first time I watched it,” you recalled, “and I refused to watch the other two films for months.”

He smiled faintly. “Yeah, s’fair. That one hurt.”

You took a sip from the can. The cola prickled lightly against your tongue, sharper than you were used to. You’d been too responsible lately—too much water, not enough joy. You’d missed fizzy drinks.

“Think Return of the King’s my favourite,” you decided finally. “I like happy endings.”

Yeonjun looked at you for a second longer than he’d planned to before speaking.

“Aragorn gets married, though,” he said.

You nodded, smiling again.

“That used to be my favourite part,” you said. “Always rooted for him and Arwen.”

He considered that for a moment before returning his attention to the screen. Aragorn, as though summoned, strode across the projection.

“Really?” he said. “I figured, with him as your favourite, you’d have wanted to be the one to marry him.”

You shook your head. “I was a very self-aware child. Knew I couldn’t marry a fictional character.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. So I planned to marry Zayn from One Direction instead.”

Yeonjun laughed so suddenly that his elbow slipped on the mattress. He caught himself by throwing a leg over the edge.

“Yeah, that—” The mattress dipped beneath him anyway, and he rolled down into the pile of pillows and blankets with a muffled yelp.

Your burst of laughter prompted Violet to lift her head.

As Yeonjun fought his way back to the surface, he felt her cold paws pressing into his ankles, not quite helpful, possibly even vindictive. He suspected she wanted him to suffer a while longer for denying her the pleasure of a second strawberry.

“You need help?” you asked, leaning closer.

Something unintelligible emerged from beneath the blankets. A moment later, he made his way back onto the mattress, shoving a pillow off his face. Bored, Violet abandoned him to sniff at your ankles instead.

“M’great.” He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and returned to roughly his original position. “S’a very nice fort we’ve got. Very nice.”

You devoted your best efforts to not laughing again.

“Anyway.” He pointed at you. “Yes. One Direction’s obviously a lot more realistic.”

“Yes. I thought so, too.”

He breathed out a wistful sigh and eased his head back onto the pillows. Above him, the blanket roof rippled whenever the breeze drifted in through the balcony door. The projector painted forests and distant mountains across the fabric. It felt a bit like a portal into Middle-earth.

“I wasn’t that self-aware as a kid,” he said.

“No?”

He shook his head.

“Which character did you want to marry?” you asked.

“The female robber from the third Home Alone film.”

It took you a few moments to place the film: the remote-controlled toy, the hopeless 911 calls.

Watching your eyebrows climb in recognition, Yeonjun grinned.

“Why her?” you asked.

“Well,” he scratched thoughtfully at his jaw, “first of all, eight-year-old me thought she was really fit.” He glanced over to watch you snicker. “And she actually knew what she was doing. I’m convinced if it hadn’t been for the idiots with her, she’d have pulled the whole thing off.”

You pressed your lips together and nodded a few times, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“Mhmm. Right.” You took a long breath. “I can see the appeal.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Wasn’t she a bit mean, though?”

Yeonjun clicked his tongue. “Have I not made it clear by now that that’s very much my type?”

You turned back to the film before you could laugh again.

“My bad,” you said. “Definitely makes sense.”

Smiling to himself, he folded one arm beneath his head.

“Why Lord of the Rings, then?” you asked, nodding towards the projection. “And not Home Alone? You could’ve updated your list.”

Yeonjun shrugged. “Watching films just because I’ve got a crush on one of the characters isn’t very cool.”

You tsked. “Clearly, you’ve never known what’s cool.”

He looked across to you. “Yeah? So, did you agree to watch Lord of the Rings just for Aragorn, then?”

“No.” You met his eyes. “I did it for you.”

He opened his mouth automatically, then discovered he’d lost his voice. Warmth climbed his neck before he had any chance of stopping it.

He turned back to the film with sudden, renewed interest, watching the raging blizzard while he tried to school his expression back into something dignified.

“I see,” he managed. “That’s gr—good.”

One corner of your lips lifted into a smirk. Yeonjun watched it through his peripheral vision and thought that he was having, by all means, the best night of his entire year.

Soon, the first film blurred into the second one. With Yeonjun’s blackout curtains drawn across the windows, it was difficult to tell the time. You had no idea where you’d left your phone; it didn’t even occur to you to look for it.

By then, the two of you were talking too much to pay attention to the screen.

“Are you sick of being back at uni yet?” Yeonjun asked, brushing tart crumbs from his palms.

You watched the changing landscape wash across the blanket roof.

“Honestly, a bit.” You exhaled. “The other doctoral students are all about ten years older than me, and surprisingly conceited, too. I wasn’t expecting that, after our lot.”

His lips stretched into a soft smile. “Yeah. We got lucky with our year.”

You hummed in agreement.

It was lonely, sitting through seminars without someone beside you to exchange glances with whenever the professors drifted into a topic they’d already covered half a dozen times that month. No Beomgyu nudging your shoulder to borrow chewing gum. No Soobin coughing politely whenever you and Reina started giggling too loudly. No Yeonjun, either.

Taehyun and Kai were your only reprieve whenever you happened to cross paths in the corridors nowadays.

“Speaking of our year, though.” You shifted slightly against the pillows to face him. “Have you decided what you’re doing for your birthday?”

Yeonjun sighed so deeply that the blanket overhead stirred with the force of it.

“Suppose I’ll round everyone up over the weekend and pass drinks around as always.” He picked absentmindedly at the edge of his cola can label until it peeled away in thin silver strips. “Some music on. You know.”

“The usual, then.”

He shifted on the mattress. The back of his hand brushed yours where it rested between you on the pillow. Neither of you moved.

“Probably.” His eyes flicked to your fingers before he settled back and returned his attention to the projection, careful not to move too far away from you. “Definitely not organising a dinner, that’s more Nara’s thing. We’ll go to a bar, I guess. Or a club. There’s this place not too far from here, said they rent private rooms.”

You nodded, watching Aragorn and Legolas cross the plains of Rohan, shades of green and grey flickering across the room.

It was almost comfortable how easily his birthday party had become part of your schedule, too.

“Oh.” Yeonjun glanced over again. “Amy’ll probably come as well.”

You looked back at him. You hadn’t heard anything about Amy in so long that, for a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of that at all.

“Yeah?” you said. “You’re still in touch?”

“Sort of.” He ran his fingers over the seam on the pillowcase between you. His left hand remained pressed against the side of yours. “Less now that I don’t really speak to my parents. She’s engaged now, by the way—don’t think I told you.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah, to the bloke she’d been seeing in grad school.”

“I thought they’d split up.”

“They had, yeah.” He nodded. “Got back together last summer. Engaged this June.”

You let out a quiet breath. “Wow.”

It brought a strange sort of familiarity, this news. Amy almost felt like a distant acquaintance at this point; a small part of your life without ever directly being in your life.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, a crooked smile on his lips. “My parents were devastated. Amy said they’d even stopped by her parents’ place to ask if they were certain their daughter’s making the right choice.”

Humming, you nudged your empty plate farther from Violet. She lingered between you and Yeonjun, waiting for just one lapse in concentration. The smell of pizza was testing the limits of her polite restraint.

“Right,” you said, stroking Violet’s back as she brushed past you. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“Hmm. Hopefully some others do, though.”

The projector washed Yeonjun’s face in shifting bands of blue when you glanced at him. His eyes lingered somewhere beyond the film. He combed his fingers through his hair, only for the same strand to fall back across his forehead again.

You turned away.

“You don’t sound very excited about your birthday,” you pointed out.

He sighed again. “Yeah. I don’t know. Been thinking there are better ways to spend it.”

“The mead again?”

He snorted.

“Yeah. Maybe. But also—” He lifted his hands to gesture at the pillows, the projector. Violet, sitting at the edge of your mattress. You. “This.”

You followed the direction of his hands. “Watching Lord of the Rings?”

His hands dropped back into his lap. “Just talking to you.”

You looked at him for a second, just long enough to feel each beat of your heart echo around your ribcage, as though it had briefly lost its way home.

Yeonjun looked back at you, feeling as though the lost beats of your heart were responsible for the extra ones crowding into his own.

Then your gaze drifted to the pizza boxes scattered between the mattresses and the crumbs littering the floor.

“We can talk at your birthday, too,” you said, tucking your feet under the blanket. “Doesn’t have to be constant drinking.”

“Yeah.”

The word came out quieter. He didn’t quite know what else to add after it.

Perhaps it was the novelty of this—spending time with you in this easy, unhurried way—that had made him start having these thoughts.

Then again, he suspected that even years ago—especially years ago—if given the choice between a crowded room where he could drink until his thoughts dissolved into static, and a dimly lit flat where the two of you discussed Legolas’ hair, he’d have picked you every time.

That wasn’t very friendly of him, he realised.

He cleared his throat and straightened, one shoulder nudging the mattress at the back.

“D’you remember Professor Javez’s class in undergrad?” he asked eventually.

You tore your attention away from the projection and glanced down at Violet, now sprawled on her side with one paw stretched imperiously across the mattress.

“Which one?” you asked. Then realised. “Oh, watching films every class?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “This kind of reminds me of it. Still my favourite elective I’ve ever taken.”

You smiled, turning back ahead.

“I thought it was a waste of time,” you admitted. “Waking up at seven just to watch films for an hour and a half.”

He laughed. That was fair, admittedly; he’d wanted to drop the class every time he heard his alarm. But he’d still loved every minute of it. He could even remember exactly where you’d sat: right by the door, so you could always be the first to leave (and you usually were).

“I remember you slept on your desk most of the time,” he said, his grin widening. “I sat right behind you. It was the best part of my week.”

You gave him a look. “Was your life that boring?”

He smirked.

“It was actually very stressful.” He sank deeper into the pillow. “That class was the only time I could relax and just watch the films. And the way you were drooling onto your desk.”

You scoffed with enough indignation to startle Violet again. “I did not drool.”

Laughing again, Yeonjun brought his hand over the cat’s back until she settled again.

“M’not accusing you of anything, love,” he said. “Merely recalling historical events.”

“Slander isn’t a historical event.”

He snickered. “You were asleep, how would you know if you’d drooled or not?”

“I’d feel drool on my face.”

“It was on your desk.”

You snorted despite yourself, but shook your head anyway. Truthfully, you hardly remembered the class anymore. Perhaps you really had slept through most of it.

Unexpectedly, you found yourself remembering the look on Yeonjun’s face, back in his car, after your first night at his house, when you’d told him he snored. He’d protested with exactly the same wounded determination you imagined you were using now.

Come to think of it, lying across these mattresses felt strangely similar to his old guest bedroom, too.

It’d been cold in his house, you remembered; you’d set the thermostat in the room to a temperature that finally let you stop shivering. Then you’d woken up with his arm slung over your waist.

Yeonjun’s current flat, by contrast, was very warm.

“I can open another balcony door,” he said.

Only then did you realise you’d lifted a hand to fan yourself.

You dropped it a touch too quickly. “No, it’s alright.”

His smile softened. He wondered if he’d been any part of whatever thought had put that faraway look in your eyes.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat and shifted upright, pressing your palm into the pillow beside you. “Tell me something instead.”

“What?”

“What’s with all the mattresses? Honestly.”

Yeonjun laughed.

“Well.” He pushed himself up a little straighter, too. “When Bin and I moved out, someone had to take them. We’d bought all the furniture ourselves, and we ended up leaving most of it there. But Soobin insisted on saving the mattresses. Said new owners usually throw them out anyway, and mattresses are expensive.”

He picked a loose thread on the blanket draped over his knees.

“Fair enough, I figured. But the house had five bedrooms.” He shook his head, a smile already spreading on his lips. “Some of them had single mattresses on the beds, stacked on top of each other.”

You frowned. “Four per bed?”

He nodded.

“Soobin took two,” he said. “That already tested Reina’s patience, considering their flat has one bed with one mattress right now. So I had to take all the rest.”

Your gaze travelled slowly around the fort: the mattresses reinforcing the walls, the ones lining the floor. It looked like a proper padded cell.

So much for joking about psychiatric wards.

“Mhmm.” You gave a contemplative nod. “So, now you’ve got one bed and about fifteen mattresses.”

He laughed, gathering a loose pillow onto his lap.

“Yeah, give or take.” He glanced towards his bedroom, forgetting momentarily that he couldn’t see through the mattress wall. “I keep most in the corridor outside my room, but bring them all out whenever Soobin comes over. Just—” He gestured around with both hands. “—spread them out. He’s the one who insisted we keep them, so he should be pleased to see them thriving here.”

Soobin had mentioned once that he couldn’t stand spending too much time at Yeonjun’s flat. You’d sympathised back then; you hadn’t had much patience for Yeonjun, either.

Really, he must’ve meant the mattresses.

“And is he pleased, then?” you asked, lips twitching.

“No, never.”

You both laughed. The projector fan seemed to hum louder, as though joining in.

“He said my flat looks like a wealthy pig furnished its own pigsty,” Yeonjun said, pausing while you laughed harder. “Said it gives him the creeps. S’why I make sure the mattresses are out every single time he’s here.”

You covered your mouth, still snickering, and Yeonjun found himself absurdly fond of the mattresses all of a sudden. For the first time, he was grateful Soobin had been so stubborn.

“But, hey.” You nodded towards the blanket roof above you. “They’ve found a purpose, after all.”

Yeonjun looked up, too. “Yeah. Happy for them.”

When he looked back down, you were already watching him. It sent you both straight into a fresh fit of laughter.

It made sense, you realised, to think about his old house, then. These were the same mattresses.

The soundtrack filled the flat, strings swelling beneath the occasional crackle of the projector, while Yeonjun searched for the right words to bring up something he’d been thinking about all morning.

He’d got distracted by the imaginary parcel back in the lobby. Had to do it now.

“By the way, um…” He rubbed his thumb across his lower lip, his gaze lingering on the screen even after you’d looked over. “Remember the race I mentioned the other day? S’this Thursday.”

You nodded. “Okay. In the evening?”

“Yes,” he said and looked at you with enough hope in his eyes to make you pause.

You thought you’d already agreed to come with him the last time he’d mentioned it. But looking at him now, you wondered whether this invitation meant something more than just watching cars drive around in circles.

Your eyes drifted briefly to the suit jacket he’d left hanging from the balcony door handle. The edges of the sleeves were painted blue from the projector.

You wanted to go regardless of what the invitation meant.

“Alright, then,” you said. “I’d like to see this alleged work you do.”

He scoffed, though excitement robbed him of any proper comeback.

“Right, mhmm.” He fought a grin that refused to stay hidden. “I’ll text you the details later after I’ve checked.”

“Okay.”

The plan lingered quietly between you, almost tangible now. Oddly, it didn’t pull either of you out of the moment. It was remarkably easy to stay in the present when the present already felt like something you’d been looking forward to.

The film went on.

Somewhere near the beginning of The Return of the King, Yeonjun shifted in search of a more comfortable position. His left ankle had gone completely numb. His arm brushed yours and, after only the briefest hesitation, he let his head drop to your shoulder.

You didn’t move, aware, suddenly, of every breath. Aware, too, of the comforting weight of him beside you.

For once, the two of you watched the film in silence.

By the middle of the film, he’d gradually slid lower until his head rested across your thighs instead, one arm folded loosely over his stomach.

This time, you couldn’t resist smiling.

“Comfortable?” you asked.

He only grinned.

You adjusted your legs slightly beneath him so he wasn’t lying against the sharp edge of your knee. The projector painted midnight blue forests across his face; he was almost part of the film now.

Before you’d consciously decided on it, your fingers drifted to his hair, sliding the strand off his forehead, away from his eyes. Your other hand came to rest lightly over his collarbone.

Already half asleep, Yeonjun registered only the warmth. His hand lifted slowly until it covered yours, heavy enough for you to feel the steady rhythm in his chest.

Sleep had been avoiding him for months. He wished it’d been slower now that he found it.

“Thank you,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently, “for this.”

Your throat tightened. For several seconds, you sat without moving, feeling your pulse respond to the steady rhythm beneath your palm.

Then you swallowed. “Happy to.”

He squeezed your hand one more time, making sure it was still there.

✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 8, 2026. 4 PM

Yeonjun’s excuse for waiting in the lobby on Tuesday was that he was stretching his legs.

“Been sitting in front of my screen too long,” he explained, rubbing the small of his back. “I’m moulding into the shape of my chair.”

You looked him up and down. “Hm. Perhaps a quick jog would help?”

“I tried. Didn’t work. I’m already too chair-shaped.”

You snorted. He grinned.

“Walking around in circles down here seems to do the trick, though,” he said.

“Interesting.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, quite.”

“Can you manage the climb upstairs, then?” you asked. “Or would you rather walk some more?”

He glanced around the lobby, pondering. You watched the pale pink of his T-shirt catch the feeble light from the lobby windows.

“Would you walk with me?” he replied. “Just in case I have a back-related emergency and need help?”

“I would not.”

“I can manage the climb upstairs.”

Snickering, you made your way to the stairwell.

By now, this had become part of your routine as well. Even on days when university left you so exhausted that every step felt twice as steep, you realised you were almost looking forward to the pointless arguments. Today, it was about the exact number of steps in each flight of stairs (Yeonjun counted out loud, determined to prove you wrong—he didn’t; he’d been off by two steps).

Violet was waiting on the doorstep when you unlocked your stubborn door. She twined her tail around your ankles before moving to Yeonjun.

She’d been exploring your wardrobe again, you noticed; there was a trail of blue-and-white socks leading all the way from your bedroom to the front door.

“Have you been up to no good again, love?” Yeonjun asked, bending to scoop her into his arms.

Violet meowed in response.

Yeonjun gasped. “You have? What’d you do?”

Another meow.

“Violet,” he said sternly, “you’ll have to apologise.”

He turned her in his arms until she faced you. You were already smiling.

Looking mildly perplexed by the proceedings—she’d have liked a lawyer—Violet meowed once more.

“You’re good, sweets,” you said, reaching out to scratch under her chin.

Purring softly, Violet arched into your touch.

“That’s better.” Yeonjun leaned down to press a kiss between her ears before looking up at you. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.” Your smile lingered. “Tomorrow.”

Left alone as the two of them headed down the stairs, you slipped into your flat, closed the door, and dropped your backpack beside the sofa.

It was quiet here. Calm. Your original plan to spend the rest of the afternoon mindlessly scrolling through your phone seemed considerably less appealing all of a sudden.

You wanted to sleep. You haven’t had a chance to get much of it lately; Professor Lee needed you in at eight every morning.

Exhaling, you slipped out of your shoes, gathered the scattered socks, and stretched out across the sofa for a quick nap before dinner.

About an hour later, you woke to music.

For several sleepy seconds, you couldn’t work out where it was coming from. The living room had grown noticeably darker, the setting sun striping the floor tiles with long bands of golden light. Your phone didn’t seem to be vibrating, yet the melody kept drifting through the flat.

You sat up.

It was a piano.

The notes blurred into each other, softened by the building before they reached you. They were coming, undeniably, from downstairs.

You remembered the piano in Yeonjun’s flat and remembered, too, him saying that these days he could only bear playing when he was in a good mood. Pissed him off otherwise, he’d said.

You wondered what made him play today.

Digging your phone from between the sofa cushions, you unlocked it and opened your messages. Then paused. Asking him, or even mentioning the music at all, you suspected, might make him stop playing.

The melody wandered on around you, unfamiliar; it faltered in places, then found itself again like he was remembering it in real time.

You didn’t want him to stop.

Yawning, you climbed off the sofa. The kitchen stool scraped softly across the floor as you pulled it away from the island and sat down. The music sounded clearer here, somehow, the floor carrying the vibrations more cleanly than the sofa had.

Your laptop still sat abandoned on the worktop; you’d been too tired to carry it back to your desk after finishing your reading the night before.

The cursor blinked patiently on the Google search bar.

You’d been meaning to find something for Yeonjun’s birthday. You suspected that the chewing gum he’d mentioned, with the tattoo stickers, would make an objectively funny present. Meaningful, too, in a ridiculous way.

As the search results began filling the screen, you remembered something else.

Once, back in grad school, on the morning he’d insisted you wear his scarf before walking you home to pick it up, Yeonjun had joked that he’d happily wear one of yours in return. You’d rummaged through your drawer for the most embarrassing scarf you owned and realised that none were nearly terrible enough.

You’d promised, you remembered, to get him one for his birthday.

Perhaps this was the birthday.

By the time the piano fell silent nearly half an hour later, you’d found a white-and-pink Hello Kitty scarf that ought to do nicely.

The chewing gum, on the other hand, proved much harder to track down. Most of the websites that still stocked it either didn’t deliver to your area or charged so much for postage that you almost expected the Prime Minister to hand-deliver it himself.

You’d reached the third page of Google, a hopeless place by any measure. None of the results had anything to do with what you were looking for.

You were just about ready to surrender when a familiar shop name caught your eye among the stockists listed on another website.

You sat up straighter.

It was the little sweet shop on the ground floor of Reina’s office building. You and Reina sometimes stopped there after your Friday lunches for some chocolate; you remembered the bright pink logo with cheerful yellow lettering.

They had the chewing gum; they just didn’t deliver.

Suddenly hopeful, you copied the link, sent it to Reina, and added a message underneath.

YOU [6:20 PM] could you get this for me please? venmoing the money rn

The transaction had barely gone through before your phone buzzed.

REINA [6:22 PM] sure ran out of orbit?

Biting gently into the tip of your tongue, you texted her back and quickly set your phone beside the laptop again—as though the mention of Yeonjun would start burning your fingers if you held onto your phone longer.

YOU [6:23 PM] it’s for yeonjun birthday gift

Without the piano, the flat suddenly felt much quieter. You hadn’t realised how comfortably the music had settled into the background before.

You filled the kettle and switched it on, letting its hiss fill the room instead, then reached into the cupboard for a saucepan and a dark blue packet of penne.

Your phone vibrated against the worktop behind you.

REINA [6:27 PM] should i ask why gum

You picked up the phone to answer.

YOU [6:27 PM] no thank you!!

Her reply came a minute later.

REINA [6:28 PM] right be careful you little freaks

You paused with the packet of pasta half open.

The defensive part of your brain began generating explanations of the ‘it’s really not what you think’ kind, but the increasingly troublesome part—the one that had been laughing far more easily than usual lately—interrupted before it got very far.

It’d genuinely been entertaining, finding the present for him. You didn’t want to defend it.

You set your phone back down and poured the penne into the saucepan.

✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 9, 2026. 4 PM

On Wednesday, Yeonjun claimed he was in the lobby because he was just returning home from the shops. To his credit, he really did look the part: black cap, dark blue denim jacket, matching jeans, and a faint flush across his cheeks.

Before you had the chance to ask what he’d bought (he wasn’t carrying any bags, nor did his pockets look remotely full—details he’d hoped you’d miss), he held up his phone. “Have you seen this?”

You stepped closer. On the screen was Reina’s mother’s Facebook profile, opened to a newly uploaded photo album from Reina and Soobin’s engagement party.

“I haven’t.”

You lowered your backpack beside the noticeboard and fished your own phone from your jacket pocket. Yeonjun stepped a little closer until your shoulders were almost touching as the two of you looked down at the screen.

The photographs loaded one by one.

You smiled at the very first one. In it, Reina was laughing so hard she’d folded almost in half, one hand pressed to her stomach. The pink dress she’d worn looked just as stunning as it had beneath the changing-room lights earlier, perhaps even more so. Beside her, Soobin already had tears in his eyes.

Then there were several shots of Nara waving her champagne flute, her eyes bright. Taehyun dancing with Reina’s mother, looking flustered, yet oddly proud. Beomgyu smiling solemnly in the background while Reina and Soobin drank champagne from each other’s glasses.

Soon, you reached a photo of yourself. You were standing in front of Kai, clearly mid-conversation, lips parted, hands raised in a quiet gesture. Yeonjun stood beside you, his head tipped slightly back, his gaze focused on you.

The lobby faded for a second.

Yeonjun realised he’d forgotten how striking your blue dress had been. Seeing it again made him briefly wonder whether he’d forgotten how to breathe, too. He took a careful breath, just in case.

“You looked nice in that suit,” you said. “Shame you’d been wasted all night.”

Remembering very well some of the other things that had happened that night, he turned to look at you.

“Yeah?” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t been?”

You looked up from your phone, unamused. “I would’ve told you you looked nice earlier.”

“Mm.” Still smirking, he glanced back down. The blue of your dress still filled the screen. “Shame.”

You scrolled on.

The final photos in the album were Reina’s mother’s attempts at group selfies—all of them came out blurry, but you could still make out Soobin’s parents in the background, glasses raised, looking progressively more relaxed from one picture to the next.

You were there, too, Yeonjun saw. A blur of blue.

He found himself thinking about all the salmon facts he’d kept in his mind that night, in case he needed help prolonging conversations with you.

“Nice night,” you said eventually, unable to help the smile on your face.

“It was,” he said, unable to help his wandering gaze. “Very.”

You slipped your phone back into your pocket. The silver charms on your bracelet caught briefly on the zipper.

“We still on for today, then?” you asked.

Yeonjun took a polite step away from you. He was a little dizzy.

“Yeah.” He glanced towards the stairs. “Let me just get Violet home first, or she’ll forget where she lives.”

Together, you started upstairs.

As usual, your door resisted. Yeonjun had already slowed, expecting the familiar battle. You leaned your shoulder into it and rattled the handle until the lock finally surrendered with its usual begrudging click.

The noise summoned Violet. She peered around the edge of the door with patient, blue eyes.

“Sorry, little one.” You crouched to scratch behind her ears. “Dreadful noise, wasn’t it?”

She answered with a single meow and padded over to Yeonjun. He gathered her into his arms, still distracted by the winds in his thoughts. He was going to go home, he knew, and look through the Facebook photo album another dozen times.

In the meantime, the two of you exchanged nods and agreed to meet back in the lobby in a couple of hours.

The plan for the evening was the arcade.

Strictly speaking, the item on Yeonjun’s Coolest List specified winning the biggest toy at a fair. Unfortunately, there weren’t any fairs nearby. You decided the claw machines at the retro arcade downtown were close enough.

Before leaving your flat, you’d raided every drawer and jacket pocket for loose change. By the time you reached the lobby, you were jingling like an overly enthusiastic elf at Christmas.

Yeonjun laughed before patting his own jacket. Coins clinked in reply, equally as unserious.

The arcade was only ten minutes away, standing beside a café that had already closed for the evening, its neon blue coffee cup still glowing softly in the window.

The noise, once you stepped inside, took a few minutes to get used to.

Electronic music blasted from every direction. Buttons clicked. Victory fanfares erupted every few seconds, interrupted by the high-pitched jingles of other machines and even higher-pitched screams of children. One machine blasted a horrid nightcore version of I-I-I, I’m Your Little Butterfly. It was stuck in your head for the rest of the night.

To your surprise, you and Yeonjun weren’t the oldest people there. A grey-haired couple were locked in a ferocious game of air hockey nearby (the woman in a gorgeous bright pink dress was demolishing her husband). A little further along, a middle-aged man threw both fists into the air after winning a racing simulator, then high-fived his colleagues.

You liked it here immediately.

You saw Yeonjun glance at the racing simulators once, twice, as you walked past, an almost palpable longing in his eyes. Before you could mention it, he gently nudged your shoulder and pointed ahead.

The claw machines lined the back wall, glowing pink and blue from afar. Not one of them was taken.

The two of you headed there.

The machines charged more per attempt than either of you had expected. Still, after the trash-talk you’d exchanged on the drive over, Yeonjun thought that a handful of extra coins felt like a reasonable price for the privilege of beating you and claiming the biggest toy—at first glance, that appeared to be the enormous pink bears wedged into the bottom corner of every machine.

“I’m beginning to think we were very optimistic,” you said, rolling your sleeves to your elbows before taking up position at the claw machine opposite his. “We’re assuming we’ll actually win enough toys to compare sizes.”

“Aw.” He slipped a coin into the slot. The machine swallowed it with an enthusiastic beep. “Losing faith in your skills already?”

You scoffed, one hand settling around the joystick. “No. Just questioning how long we’re about to imprison ourselves here.”

You nudged the controls. The claw drifted over the mountain of plush animals with no sense of urgency whatsoever.

“Should we set a time limit?” you asked. Neon blue flashed rhythmically across your face as you lined the claw up above an upside-down pig with tiny legs. “I’ve got a lecture tomorrow morning.”

“Right.” Yeonjun leaned closer to his own machine. “And then we’ve got my race in the evening. Hope you didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t.”

You pressed the button. The claw descended, closed around nothing, and floated back up again.

The machine let out an electronic neigh loud enough to make you jump.

“Oh, for fuck’s—” You blinked at it. “This thing’s obnoxious.”

Yeonjun snorted, veering his joystick forward. “Off to a great start, yeah?”

“Hmm.” You checked the time on your phone. “Let’s say 11 PM is the deadline, alright? Gives us about three hours.”

Beside you, he completely missed the thirty-second timer. His claw barely brushed the toy he’d been aiming for before it leapt up again.

Another triumphant neigh echoed around the arcade.

Yeonjun recoiled. “Jesus.”

You looked over, grinning. “Nice, wasn’t it? It vibrates when you lose, too.”

“Right, yeah.” He glanced back at you. “Wait—so you want to do this for three hours? I love being here with you, love, but m’afraid we’ll both go deaf by then.”

“I’m saying three hours is the limit.” You pointed at him with another coin. “If you still haven’t beaten me by then, there’s no hope for you. We’ll go home.”

A grin spread across his face. “Confident.”

“Of course.”

“Alright.” He fed another coin into the slot and cracked his knuckles. “11 PM it is. Doubt I’ll need that long, but sure.”

You glanced sideways without letting go of the joystick. “Confident.”

“Mhmm.” He nudged his joystick into position. “Birthday week and all. Has to be my lucky streak.”

Your machine screamed again.

With a frown, you reached for another coin. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because your birthday’s coming up.”

He leaned around the side of his machine, cheeks stretching. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because of your concerning skills.”

Ignoring that, you guided the claw towards the giraffe waiting in the opposite corner, its sides painted blue from the lights.

Yeonjun, in the meantime, overshot. He realised too late that he’d been watching your machine instead of his own. It shuddered, rewarding his failure with another neigh.

Cursing, he inserted another coin, pointedly ignoring your laughter as he wrapped his hand around the joystick. The claw seemed to be living its own independent life. He’d have to learn its moods.

The first half an hour passed surprisingly quickly.

All the two of you had managed was concluding that the claw machines were financial scams, likely someone’s preferred method of laundering money.

Your pockets were growing noticeably lighter.

You stepped back after the fifteenth attempt—or sixteenth; you’d lost count shortly after Yeonjun gasped so dramatically that you briefly thought he might need an ambulance.

“Right, then,” you said. “Going to the loo. Have to reconsider my financial choices.”

“Come back soon.” Yeonjun kept his eyes fixed on the claw. “Let’s see if I don’t break this while you’re gone.”

“Let’s see if it doesn’t break you while I’m gone.”

“Love—” The machine screeched. He groaned. “Please. I need you to be on my side a little bit. This thing’s cursed.”

“It is.” You patted his shoulder as you walked past. “Stay strong. Don’t win.”

Snickering at the wounded sigh behind you, you cast one last longing glance at the pink bear before turning the corner towards the restroom.

When you returned, Yeonjun was leaning casually against his machine. There was a grin on his face that immediately made you suspicious.

You slowed. “What?”

Without a word, he reached behind his back and produced a small grey rabbit.

Your face fell. You stepped closer and grabbed it from him, turning it over in your hands. It was ridiculously soft; nothing like the cheap toys you remembered winning in your childhood.

“How’d—” You looked up. “You didn’t bring this from home, did you?”

Yeonjun frowned. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”

“A cheater.”

He scoffed. “I won it fair and square.”

You handed it back to him, not entirely convinced.

“It’s tiny,” you said.

“Yes.” He carefully placed the toy on top of his control panel—for luck. “But it’s still one more than you’ve got, so I’m winning.”

Huffing, you returned to your own machine. The neon lights seemed brighter as you approached, almost threatening.

“Leave you alone,” you muttered, dropping another coin into the slot, “and apparently you discover how this thing works.”

Yeonjun’s grin returned. “S’what happens when you abandon me.”

“I was gone for two minutes.”

“And if you leave me again,” he said, “I might actually win the pink bear.”

Your grip tightened around the joystick. The bear continued smiling smugly from the corner of the machine.

“Not a chance.” The familiar jingle began again. “Never leaving you alone again.”

Yeonjun’s hand stalled. He hoped that you wouldn’t notice what you’d just said and immediately take it back.

You didn’t. Your gaze was already locked on the claw.

Satisfied, Yeonjun proceeded to lose another dozen times in a row.

Beside him, you came very close to winning, and he swore he felt his heart fall through his stomach as he watched the giraffe’s head thud against the edge of the prize chute. Then it dropped back into the pile of toys.

For a second, your groan—and his subsequent laughter—drowned out the arcade noise.

Another half an hour later, the two of you called a temporary truce. Your wrists ached, and the toys were starting to cost far more than they were worth. Neither of you had won anything worth boasting too much about anyway (you said as much to Yeonjun after he dramatically stuffed the rabbit into his jacket pocket).

There was a café in the corner of the arcade, beside the racing simulators and the entrance to the neighbouring PC gaming room. It seemed as good a place to recover as any.

You ordered brownies (with extra chocolate) and milkshakes (with extra ice cream), and carried your trays to a small table beside the low partition separating the two spaces.

It wasn’t much quieter here. The machines continued to chime every few seconds, people laughed, basketballs kept bouncing somewhere nearby. A girl walked right past your table with something in her bag that looked like a golden Chihuahua; its eyes blue from the neon lights.

It felt a little magical.

The brownies were still warm enough for the chocolate filling inside to stretch in glossy ribbons each time you lifted your fork.

“This is better than a fair, m’thinking,” Yeonjun said, glancing around. “My list might’ve been wrong.”

You smiled. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He took another bite from his plate. “Glad I’ve waited this long to complete it.”

Your heart lifted at that, guileless.

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” you said, gathering the crumbs on your plate into a little pile.

He leaned forward instinctively. “You have?”

“Yeah. I’m planning to go home soon,” you said. “To see my grandparents.”

He paused. “Right.”

“Next week, probably.” Your fingers wrapped around the milkshake glass. The straw tapped against the side. “And I thought—uh, would you like to come with me?”

“I—” Yeonjun sat upright so quickly that his chair edged backwards on the carpet. “With you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We’ve still got the lawnmowers and the picnic on your list. Got enough grass for both back at the farm, I reckon.”

His mind had suddenly forgotten the list altogether. It had caught, instead, on come with me.

“Right, yes,” he said. “Tw—two birds, one stone.”

“Yeah.”

His eyes stayed on you, bright yet strangely unfocused.

You shifted in your chair.

Perhaps it had been a strange thing to ask. Going to the arcade was fine, but your village might’ve been too much.

You almost explained that you’d bought every one of your friends home at some point—even Taehyun had sneezed his way through a weekend there, allergic to half of your grandparents’ garden. But the explanation caught somewhere in your throat.

If he didn’t want to come, he shouldn’t have to.

Yeonjun, meanwhile, was dealing with the sudden suspicion that he’d gone deaf. He couldn’t hear the music or the machines, the basketballs or the chatter.

After a few bewildered seconds, he realised that the dull rushing in his ears was only his own heartbeat.

“I would—I’d really like that,” he said, and then repeated it, for no reason other than his inability to stop himself, “I’d really like that.”

Your shoulders loosened.

Yeonjun noticed and frowned.

Surely, he thought, you weren’t worried about him refusing. Surely, you knew that if you’d asked him to follow you across the country—or straight into hell, for that matter—he’d have already been looking for his car keys.

Where were his car keys, actually?

Discreetly, he patted his pockets.

“Yeah?” you said. “That sounds alright?”

“Of course, yeah.” He leaned back into the table, cut off another piece of his brownie, then forgot to eat it. “As long as your grandparents don’t mind me.”

You dismissed the concern with a wave of your hand so immediate that Yeonjun finally felt himself smile again.

“Not at all,” you said. “My gran will talk your ear off if you let her, though. Be mindful of how many follow-up questions you ask.”

“Okay,” he said, knowing very well that he was going to sit and listen to everything your grandmother had to say, and perhaps take notes.

“You sure you’d like to come, though?” you asked. “You looked—a bit doubtful, I guess.”

“Oh—I—no.” With an embarrassed laugh, he slapped both palms lightly against his thighs. “Guess I’m just realising I’ll meet your Violet. S’a big deal.”

“Oh, yeah!” You laughed. “And Britney! She’s been limping this past week because she’d stepped on a bee. But Grandad says she’s getting better now.”

Yeonjun remembered Britney, the cat, supposedly Violet’s best friend. The lightness inside him expanded.

“Britney, too, then,” he said. “Quite a lot of pressure.”

You smiled.

“Don’t worry.” You took another sip of your milkshake. It was cold enough to make your temples announce themselves. “They’ll love you.”

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You sound awfully sure, considering the first impression I’d made on you.”

You leaned back in the chair.

“Well,” you said, “don’t try to prove my cows will fall in love with you in two weeks, and you’ll be alright.”

He pursed his lips. “Right, right. You don’t think I’d succeed?”

“Think you’d struggle finding the time to date all of them while you’ve still got to complete the list with me.”

“Ah.” He grinned again. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about, then. You’ll always be my first priority, love.”

You scoffed, turning back to your plate.

“Mhmm.” Your lips were determined to curve; you poked your tongue into your cheek to keep them straight. “Thank you ever so much. Big honour.”

“You’re very welcome.”

You returned to your brownie. Finally, Yeonjun remembered his own.

“So, then.” You nodded back towards the arcade. “What would you do with the big toy if you won it?”

“The pink bear?”

“Yeah.”

“Sell it,” he said, still chewing. “And use the money to go on holiday. To the sea, m’thinking.”

“Nice, nice.” Your smile finally won against your restraint. “The bear’s obviously worth a fortune.”

“Obviously, yeah.” He took another bite. “I’d take you with me. To the sea.”

You raised your eyes from your plate. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, a fresh grin spreading across his face. “Out of pity that you lost.”

An affronted noise escaped you. Yeonjun laughed hard enough to inhale a brownie crumb and had to cough into his fist, still laughing through it.

“We’ll see about that.” You pushed your empty plate aside and wrapped both hands around your milkshake. “Still got another few hours left.”

“What would you do with the pink bear, then?” he asked.

You considered it as you sipped from the straw. The paper was already soft around the edges; you could taste cardboard more than strawberry.

“Hm.” You pushed the glass back. “I’d keep it on my doorstep. To remind you I’d won every time you came over.”

Yeonjun nodded with enthusiastic approval. He very much enjoyed the thought of becoming part of your doorstep.

“Reckon Violet would love it,” he said.

“Yeah, I think she would.” You could already picture Violet abandoning the monstera pot in favour of the bear. “One of us has to win it for her.”

“Well.” Yeonjun stirred the melting ice cream in his glass with his straw before taking another sip. “Not me, then, ‘cause I’m selling it.”

“Got to be me, then. To show Violet who actually loves her.”

“Hey—no.” He pulled back from the table, his lips shifting into an impressive pout. “S’not fair. Don’t bring love into this now.”

You scoffed, leaning forwards in your seat—the two of you looked absurdly like two ends of a seesaw now.

“You’re the one who brought it into it,” you said. “Said she’d love the bear.”

“I meant she’d love having it on your doorstep.”

“Which means I’ve got to win it,” you countered, “to get it on said doorstep.”

“It doesn’t mean I love her less if there’s no bear at all.”

“Yes, it does, actually.”

“No, it—”

A deafening pop cut him off.

You both jumped. For one second, you were convinced one of the machines had exploded. Instead, a shower of balloons burst across the ceiling. Triumphant music erupted from somewhere near the racing simulators. A cluster of teenagers shrieked in delight.

Apparently, someone had just broken the arcade’s high score.

Balloons drifted lazily through the room. Children abandoned their games halfway through, and even the adults joined in—one man sprinted after a balloon skimming across the floor as though it was a lucky lottery ticket.

Smiling, you turned back and finished the last of your milkshake.

Across from you, Yeonjun bent under the table.

You leaned sideways to glance down. “What’re you doing?”

“Hang on.” His voice came muffled. “Just—”

A second later, he resurfaced holding a bright red, heart-shaped balloon by its ribbon. He examined it for a second. Then pressed it to his chest.

You watched him, your eyebrows rising. His expression remained perfectly solemn. A second later, he bumped the balloon softly against his chest, then once more.

“Think I’ve got tachycardia,” he said.

Your lips twitched. He thumped the balloon against his chest until you finally snorted, shaking your head.

He grinned, extending it towards you. “For you, love.”

You leaned closer to inspect the balloon. “You’re giving me your tachycardia?”

“Yes. I’ll cope without it.”

“Keep it.”

“No.” He pushed the balloon towards you again. “Take it, or I’ll pop it.”

Snorting again, you accepted it. The rubber creaked softly beneath your fingers.

“Popping your own heart would probably hurt,” you said, turning it over in your hands. It smelled of latex.

“Probably.” He grinned. “So I’m trusting it to you.”

The words were ridiculous. Your own heart, somehow, even more so. You thought he really had given you tachycardia.

Determined not to look at him, you busied yourself with winding the ribbon once around your wrist. The balloon bobbed against your jacket sleeve.

“Alright.” You gave it an experimental tug. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”

“Good.”

You finally glanced up. Yeonjun was still smiling. The corners of his eyes had relaxed, his lashes appearing darker in the dim light of the arcade.

Your composure lasted for two seconds. Snickering quietly, you dropped your gaze again.

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair. He felt so light that he might as well have drifted away with the rest of the balloons.

When the two of you returned to your designated claw machines another ten minutes later, the arcade had mostly been cleaned. Tiny flecks of red, blue and silver rubber still glittered across the dark carpet whenever the neon lights caught them.

You and Yeonjun started the second round.

The machine reminded you why you hated it at once: every time you pushed the joystick left, the claw lurched slightly right first. You pushed it forwards; it seemed to contemplate the suggestion, wasting precious seconds before it crept half an inch forward and stopped.

The machine neighed.

You groaned.

Competing here had been an appalling idea. Unfortunately, you’d already invested too much money, too many hours, and far too much pride to admit defeat now.

You fed in another coin.

Another attempt, another failure. And another, and another.

Your concentration was beginning to fray under the monotony. Only once did you manage to lift the leg of a frog plushie; it slipped free almost instantly.

Soon, your attention wandered to the balloon tied loosely around your wrist, the red heart bobbing gently against the machine whenever you moved. Then you looked up at Yeonjun beside you.

The neon from your machine washed him blue, his own painted the other side of his face pink. Every so often, another cabinet flashed gold behind him, briefly outlining his jaw.

It was terribly distracting. You almost wanted to—

A dreadful miracle occurred.

Yeonjun’s claw machine broke. He moved the joystick, and for the first time all evening, it actually obeyed.

“What—” He hardly managed the word.

The timer expired, but the claw kept moving regardless.

You looked at him just as his mouth slowly spread into a grin. He guided the claw over the pink bear.

“Yeonjun,” you warned.

“Think I’ve frightened it,” he said.

“It just glitched, use a diff—”

“Oh, wait, wait—” He inhaled in theatrical anticipation while the claw descended.

It missed the bear.

Yeonjun squinted; he’d been off the bear’s ear by half an inch.

You cleared your throat and turned back to your own machine.

“Can’t even win with a broken claw,” you murmured. “Sounds about right—”

Yeonjun’s claw jumped to the top. The machine continued jingling in support. He nudged the joystick without inserting a new coin; the claw moved again.

You turned back to him, eyes narrowing. His claw finally managed to catch the bear by the ear and, most horribly, lift it. You held your breath.

The bear wobbled. It dropped before Yeonjun was ready to let go.

He cursed. You exhaled.

The bear caught against the edge. Bounced off another toy. Then, with one final clunk, it dropped straight into the prize chute.

You weren’t breathing.

The machine erupted into a triumphant tune that made you momentarily consider smashing it to pieces. The fucking Little Butterfly played even louder somewhere behind you.

You stared in complete silence while Yeonjun bent and lifted the enormous bear from the compartment. It barely fit past the little doors.

“This—that doesn’t count,” you said. “The machine broke.”

He looked from the bear to you.

“I’ve won the bear,” he said.

“The machine—”

“I’ve won the bear.”

His delight echoed loudly enough for a couple by the Pac-Man machines to glance over.

You lowered your voice. “It doesn’t count.”

“The bear,” he announced, lifting it triumphantly above his head, “belongs to me.”

“It wasn’t supposed to—”

“Listen, love, I’ll make you a deal.” His grin turned positively threatening as he stuffed the toy under his arm. “I’ll give you the bear. You can put it on your doorstep or give it to Violet—but on one condition.”

You didn’t trust this for a second.

“What condition?”

“You admit defeat.”

You stared at him. “But you didn’t even—”

“You admit defeat,” he spoke over you, hoisting the bear again, “and you admit that I’m much better at claw machines than you will ever be—”

“No.”

“—and that it has been the greatest honour of your life to compete against me.”

“No.”

“You may also compliment my technique, though, of course, that’s voluntary.”

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.

“You had no technique,” you said. “The machine broke. And even then, you couldn’t get it on your first—”

“Don’t be a sore loser, love.” He wiggled the bear in his arms; it nearly slipped in his excitement. Laughing, he caught it again. “Come on.”

You turned away to gather your coins from the control panel. As annoyed as you were, it was good not to have to waste more money.

“I don’t care about the bear,” you said.

“Not even a little?”

“No.”

Yeonjun laughed again.

You heard his footsteps before you felt him. One of his arms settled lightly across your shoulders as he wedged the bear between your arms and your chest.

He caught the familiar roses of your perfume and realised he couldn’t reasonably force himself to pull back. His chin hovered beside your shoulder, his cheek brushing yours for the briefest moment—warm enough to send your pulse stumbling out of rhythm.

“You didn’t even want the bear,” you mumbled, relaxing your arms to take hold of the toy.

“I know.” He made no move to step away, his chest solid against your back. “I’m excellent at getting things out of spite. What else do you want while I’m on a winning streak? The frog looks—”

You turned around and pressed the bear back into his arms.

“Alright,” you said. “Keep your stupid, illegal bear. M’perfectly content knowing that you’d never win a toy in a fair fight.”

He snorted.

“All due respect, love…” He balanced the bear under one arm and reached into his jacket pocket for the grey rabbit. “I got two stupid toys today. How many have you got?”

You clicked your tongue, then deliberately raised your balloon. It dipped under your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got this,” you said before nodding towards him, “and I’ve got you. So that brings us to the same number of stupid things we’ve got.”

He was glowing. Being included in your list of possessions delighted him far more than the bear had.

Trying to suppress the twitching at the corners of your mouth as Yeonjun laughed beside you, you zipped your pockets and turned towards the exit.

He caught up within a few strides, still chuckling, and draped an arm across your shoulders. You leaned into him automatically so the two of you—and the absurd bear between you—could squeeze through the doors.

It was dark outside, but the air felt cleaner away from the stale warmth of the arcade. It was lovely not to have your ears assaulted by the noise, too.

All you could smell now was Yeonjun’s cologne. All you could hear was his attempts to stop laughing.

The bear, yours, really, just like every other stupid thing he owned, was entirely beside the point now.

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