#txtwritersnetwork

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door. 

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something. 

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this. 

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.” 

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess. 

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really. 

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum. 

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway. 

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself. 

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded. 

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort. 

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip. 

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished. 

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them. 

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills. 

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape. 

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway. 

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated. 

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from? 

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically. 

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret.  “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards. 

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog. 

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story. 

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use. 

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.” 

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you? 

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense. 

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow. 

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition. 

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs. 

“You like me too?” 

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

instead of going to find your brother who had initially invited him to the party, beomgyu went outside alone. he had been waiting for the day you’d snap and call him out on his bullshit, but never in a million years did he think it would happen so soon. and most importantly, never in a million years would he have thought he’d feel so hurt.

ever since the two of you met you had been bickering. in a way it should have been expected. after all, you were his best friends sister, you were never meant to be close. as time passed the bickering soon turned into arguing, hurt and tears.

of course the two of you avoided any contact with each other whenever your brother soobin was around as not to concern him. how would the two of you even have explained your situation to him? “hyung, every time i see your sister we end up shouting at each other until the other one leaves to go cry somewhere, but it’s fine we tolerate each other for you~” and the worst thing being, it was you who usually left first.

you never cried in front of beomgyu, but he knew. he had seen the tear stains on your cheeks when you’d come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water while him and your brother were sipping coffee at the table. he felt terrible, of course. he had promised himself countless of times to try and act nicer around you, but ended up breaking that promise every single time that he saw you. you just knew how to press his buttons and voila, the beast inside of him was out. so yes, it was about damn time you said something harsh back.

after a couple minutes of sitting on the porch step, beomgyu stood up, leaned his back against soobin’s pick up truck and watched as his exhale came out in a fog against the cold air. he shoved his hand in the pocket of his leather jacket and brought out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between his lips. just as he lit up the cigarette, the volume of the music coming from inside the house was turned louder. it seemed like you were finally celebrating your victory in establishing dominance over him. you were happy now that he was out, beomgyu thought.

as beomgyu took his first big inhale of the toxin he felt his tense muscles relax a bit. the cold air was already nibbling at his skin and he slightly shivered at the uncomfortable sensation. just then the door in front of him swung open a little too harsh and hit the wall beside it with a loud thump, the person stumbling out obviously not meaning to use so much force.

“shit.” you mumbled as you drunkenly examined the wall for possible damage. beomgyu didn’t say anything, just watched in amusement and waited for you to notice him standing there. and you did.

“oh. you’re still here.” your face dropped to the floor when your eyes finally focused on him.

beomgyu took the cigarette from his mouth between his fingers and blew out the smoke. “yeah. didn’t expect you to come here.”

surprisingly, you gave him a weak smile then swayed your way over to lean against the truck as well, right beside him.

“well, i’m not really a big fan of crowds and loud spaces. i came for some fresh air.”

beomgyu huffed at you when you took in a dramatic breath of air.

for a few seconds the two of you stood there in silence. it felt like words didn’t need to be exchanged and maybe it was better that way. maybe silence is what your relationship needed.

after a while you turned to look at him and came to notice he was smoking. beomgyu felt your gaze burning the side of his head so he turned to see what you were staring at. you gestured towards his cigarette and beomgyu furrowed his brows.

“can i have one?” you casually proposed. he was taken a back, but dug out another cigarette nevertheless, offering it to you. you gingerly took the toxin from him and placed it between your lips just like he had done mere minutes ago. he then took out his lighter as you were already leaning closer for him to light up.

“thanks.”

beomgyu nodded back in acknowledgement. “i didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i’ve been drinking.” you were quick to point out. “that’s why you didn’t know.” you grinned at him. beomgyu found your smile a surprisingly pleasant sight, something he didn’t see too often.

“beomgyu?” you suddenly initiated conversation.

“hmm?”

“why are you always such an asshole towards me?”

it must have been the nth time that night that you caught him off guard. not knowing the reason himself, beomgyu blatantly shrugged and cast his eyes down. “i don’t know.”

“is there something wrong with me? is there something you don’t like about me?”

it was obvious your confidence to ask such questions was due to the alcohol in your system. maybe you had been dying to ask these questions from him, beomgyu thought.

“no. there’s nothing wrong with you.”

you looked at him quizzically, trying to understand his seeming hatred towards you. “there’s something wrong with me.” he continued.

“i really can’t understand you, choi beomgyu. i’m trying really hard, but i can’t.”

“i don’t really understand myself either. you just irritate me for some fucking reason even i can’t understand.”

you blew out the smoke from your lungs in a deep sigh and leaned your head back in frustration. after another moment of silence you decided to break it again.

“look,” you threw your cigarette to the ground and stomped on it “i need to try this one thing.”

beomgyu watched you closely as you took an intimidating step toward him. you then placed your hand on his cheek and when it seemed like he was allowing it, you leaned in and kissed his lips.

his lips felt cold against yours, even with the alcohol evident in your blood stream. you would have never in your life attempted something like this sober, but you had already confronted him once for the evening so you decided to just fuck it.

he responded to your kiss almost immediately, lips surprisingly hungry for yours as his hands wound against your waist to pull you flat against him. he tasted like mint, booze and cigarettes, a combination that only made you feel like you were on cloud nine. by now his hands were stroking your sides up and down meanwhile your thumb was caressing his cold cheek. this was the satisfaction you were craving, the ultimate victory in your battle.

sooner than the both of you would have wanted, you pulled back from the kiss, breathless. beomgyu didn’t let go of you and neither did you. and almost as intensely as your kiss was, you stared at each other in a bliss.

“what the fuck was that?” you laughed as you leaned your head against beomgyu’s chest.

“that was one hell of a “thing”, (y/n).” he chuckled back.

“what are we doing, beomgyu?” you looked up to ask him, but instead of a vocal reply, your question was answered by his lips colliding with yours.

--

somewhere in the night, soobin sips his vodka.

he twirls his phone in his large hands, looking at it like it was the hardest decision he had ever had to make. he sighs, before throwing it on his carpeted floor. it clinks against the empty bottle lying around.

soobin readjusts himself on his couch. he pops open another bottle, downing half of it until the burn in his throat is too much for him to handle. he was never much of a drinker, but this drink meant too much for him to forget its addicting taste.

soobin picks his phone up from the ground. he unlocks it. his keypad pops up, and it reminds him why he’d thrown it away in the first place. a blush rushes through his cheeks (though, he is unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the number he had dialed before). he so desperately wants to press that little green button, call the person whose voice he longs to hear.

but he knows he cannot. yeonjun is gone.

he closes the keypad and opens his instagram instead. in the little search box, he types the familiar handle (the one that had been tagged in all his posts and stories, the one he’d been typing quite often these days too).

sometimes he wondered why yeonjun hadn’t blocked him yet. sometimes he let himself hope that it was for the same reason he hadn’t either.

the ring around yeonjun’s profile photo glows pink. soobin taps on it, expecting photos of a night out with friends, or even a dinner with his family. he was even prepared to be disappointed by a picture of a date, at some restaurant nicer than any one they’d ever been to.

the picture loads. it’s of a single beer. at their bar.

soobin grabs his coat and runs out his door, running his fingers through his hair. he wants to say that it’s the alcohol taking over him, but he knows that it’s him shining through. it’s his heart that pushes him through the snow on the street and the ice on the roads, to the bar that still held their ghosts.

soobin gets there just before closing time, when the staff are clearing tables and stacking chairs. he sees yeonjun sitting alone through the glass doors, swirling a 7th cup of beer on a barstool. his hand reaches to swing open the doors. it hesitates, ghosting the cold metal.

was it worth it? soobin thinks. if he went in, poured his heart out to the boy who used to love him, and his heart had no remnants of soobin in it, would he be able to walk away?

soobin sighs, letting his hand rest on the cold handle. he was fully contemplating walking away, right now, and pretending nothing had ever happened. he was ready to spend his hangover convincing himself that he hadn’t gone to the bar, and that he hadn’t let yeonjun slip through his fingers like this.

and then yeonjun saw him.

yeonjun had slammed his empty cup back down on the table and tipped the bartender. he had already gotten up to leave. then he saw soobin through the glass doors.

yeonjun was fully contemplating walking away, right now, and pretending nothing had ever happened. he was prepared to convince himself that soobin was just here for a last minute beer, maybe even coming to get it for someone waiting for him in his apartment.

he was ready to pretend that he hadn’t let soobin through his fingers like this. but he wasn’t going to let himself do that. not tonight, not when soobin was here.

yeonjun yanks his coat on and swings the glass door open so fast that soobin stumbles backwards. yeonjun looks up at soobin, waiting for him to say something. soobin looks down at yeonjun, waiting for him to utter a word. but they both stand there, so unsure of the other that they don’t dare confess.

“soobin,” yeonjun starts, heart beating in his head, “why are you here?”

“what? i mean, i saw your instagram story, and i- well i- i mean i just wanted to-”

“soobin,” yeonjun stresses, “why are you here?”

beat. maybe he shouldn’t have asked that.

beat. maybe he should have walked away.

“i’m here for you.”

but, yeonjun thinks, maybe it’s good he did it anyway.

yeonjun cups soobin’s face in his palms like he was as fragile as the snowflakes falling around them. then he kisses him like he had never done before. he kisses him with the weight of a broken heart, with the sorrow of the alcohol in their systems, and the pain of knowing you love someone only when you lose them.

soobin caresses yeonjun’s back in an almost-hug, as if he can’t believe that this is real, and that yeonjun was here. that yeonjun had come out of the bar for him. that yeonjun had kissed him first. that yeonjun wasn’t gone anymore.

when yeonjun pulls away, soobin keeps his eyes closed for a bit longer, afraid that yeonjun would no longer be there if he did. yeonjun smiles and brushes his cold fingers over soobin’s shut eyelids. soobin’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles at yeonjun’s earnest face.

“i love you, choi soobin.”

soobin bends down to leave a peck on yeonjun’s temple, letting his lips linger over his cold skin for a heartbeat longer.

“i love you, choi yeonjun.”

somewhere in the night, soobin and yeonjun kiss once more in front of the bar they’d fallen in love in.

somewhere in the night, yeonjun goes back to soobin’s apartment and falls asleep in his arms.

somewhere in the night, two broken hearts earn themselves a happy ending.

-

If Yeonjun was a flame, you had always been a moth. A persistent moth.

You wouldn’t call your feelings for him a crush. You’d had crushes on others before, but this was a different feeling. You didn’t wanna kiss Yeonjun; you wanted to be friends with him, you wanted him to think you were cool. You wanted him to come over to your house and have art relays where you switch drawings every thirty seconds to create wild fusions between your minds, you wanted to go to the pool with him in the summer and race to see who was faster and who could hold their breath longer and eat popsicles in the unrelenting heat when you’d had enough. You wanted to rent bad movies with him so you didn’t have to feel guilty when you talk and joke over them while you throw popcorn at each other and make him laugh so hard Gatorade comes out of his nose. You wanted so much with Yeonjun. Which made it hurt so much more than just a crush.

The two of you talked in art club. It was inevitable; there were only eleven members. It wasn’t the every day, “This is clearly my friend in the club” talking that you wanted, but it was something. And it made you feel good! Yeonjun was never a social butterfly, he wasn’t the type to just throw his attention around and be overly friendly to anything with a pulse. The fact that he liked you enough to chat with you made a full feeling of accomplishment swell up in your chest. 

But you weren’t satiated. And then, before anything could really happen in terms of your friendship, middle school ended. No more art club.

It was time for high school. 

Yeonjun absolutely blossomed in high school, and it was amazing to watch. He got even better at soccer, leading your school’s team to win after win after win.  Colleges were scouting him as a freshman. He didn’t stay in art club, but he did continue to sing in the choir, and out of everyone in your grade, he took the most AP classes in a year (five in your senior year; and technically, he tied with you, because you were in every single one with him). Every time you saw him, he was on the cusp of exhaustion. Between all his courses and all that homework and soccer practice, it was obvious he barely got any sleep. You even overheard whispers from other tenors in the library one day that he had a habit of dozing off in chorus (which made your heart flutter -- how dare he be so cute). But he still had a sunny disposition about him, and it was clear he was proud of himself for accomplishing so much.

He was so hardworking, so nice, so cool. Did you really even ever stand a chance?

Speaking of you, you … weren’t doing so hot. 

If you were shy before, you became a complete wallflower in high school. Teenagers are loud and mean and aggressive and you were petrified of all of them. There was a handful of other quiet girls, and the four of you stuck together for solidarity, but you wouldn’t call them friends. You mostly took as many AP classes as you physically could and drowned yourself in work so you didn’t have to think about how you were the class loner. You tried to forget about Yeonjun, because longing for his friendship made you feel weird and creepy. It kind of worked.

High school for you was a stressful, lonely blur.

Yeonjun graduated valedictorian. He didn’t even need to try so hard for his grades; he earned a full ride soccer scholarship to a fantastic private university. 

Being a bright student yourself, you got accepted to every place you applied to, and you got some hefty scholarships, too. No full rides, but still. Significant. And to really good schools.

If you happened to commit to the same one as Yeonjun, well, that’s just coincidence, isn’t it?

-

“What the fuck?”

It’s more of a shriek than anything. You’re completely stricken, shock painted thickly all over your face as your eyes burn into your laptop. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

There’s no way Choi Yeonjun is your fucking roommate. That Choi Yeonjun. It can’t be possible.

You knew that the dorm you’ll be living in is coed. You knew that. You must’ve thoughtlessly checked off that you were okay sharing with either sex under the section of the application that matched you to a roommate. You must have. It’s the only explanation.

But that still doesn’t make it make sense.

You haven’t spoken to Yeonjun since eighth grade. You’ve barely spoken to anyone besides your teachers since eighth grade. How are you supposed to live with him? You could barely even coexist with him in high school without drowning in your feelings.

You’re reeling.

You decide you need to take a nap to recover.

When you wake a few hours later, it hits you all over again like a fucking avalanche, like there’s snow forcing itself down your throat, in your ears, inside your head, inside your heart. You’re frozen.

You check your phone.

You have two Instagram notifications.

One of them is a follow request. The other is a DM request.

Both from @choiyeonjun99. 

Fuck.

-

The two of you awkwardly stumble your way around a friendship that summer before your first semester.  It’s not anything crazy, just an everyday text, an exchange of memes, things like that. You haven’t even talked in person since finding out you’ll be roommates in a matter of weeks.

But that doesn’t mean it’s not still good.

Yeonjun is infuriatingly charming, which is made significantly worse by the fact that you know he’s not even trying. He’s just nice.

Yeonjun: Maybe we can get a cat :D

You: i’m sure the university would be thrilled

Yeonjun: Screw the university 

Yeonjun: I don’t owe them anything

You: that makes one of us

Yeonjun: oh shit

Yeonjun: I’ll split my scholarship with you :D

You: how are you planning to get away with that?

Yeonjun: My various charms??

You: remind me again of what those are?

Yeonjun: MEAN D:<

The conversation begins to flow easily between you two, becoming natural as you both slowly emerge from your shells. You wish you had a time machine so you could tell your eighth grade self that you’re Yeonjun’s emergency contact now, since you’ll be living together. Eighth grade you would fucking spontaneously combust.

A week before you move in, it’s three in the morning and you can’t sleep. You’re tortured by thoughts of the near future, and you can’t tell if it’s excitement or dread or both. It’s like the Indy 500 is going on in your stomach and it’s a photo finish but the fucking lens cap was on the camera the whole race.

The university you and Yeonjun are attending is pretty elite, and very … extra, is the word that comes to mind. You’ve searched up what your dorm will look like when you arrive. It’s massive, they all are, the size of two bedroom apartments with a living room and a kitchenette and everything. But even with all that space, you know your feelings for Yeonjun will fill up every room and suffocate you until you don’t have any choice but to jump out your bedroom window.

The two of you share a bathroom. You’ll use the same shower. The thought of that alone makes fields of primroses burst into bloom in your chest.

You’re falling down a rabbit hole of visions of you and Yeonjun living in the same space, being with him for several hours of the day, living domestically, learning each other’s schedules, grabbing lunch together, cramming for midterms, sleeping only separated by one wall … you’re spiraling. Out of control. Spinning.

You take out your phone.

You: hi i know it’s late and you’re probably not awake but i just want to tell you that i can’t stop thinking about next week and i’m so nervous and so excited that i just want to apologize in advance because i’ll probably be really jittery and weird the first few days but i’ll get over it i swear. 

You: i cant sleep and its killing me so thats why im texting you at ass o clock in the morning

To your surprise, the little Seen text pops up at the bottom after a few seconds, and a couple of moments later, he’s typing.

Yeonjun: hey

Yeonjun: Dont be nervous

Yeonjun: Are you doing okay? Really?

How do you say No, I’m tormented by thoughts of you existing while I’m rooms away in a friendly, future roommate way?

You: yeah just anxious

You: dont worry about it

Yeonjun: You said you cant sleep?

You: yeah?

Yeonjun: I could call you if you want

Your heart.

Stops.

Yeonjun: I know talking to someone always makes me feel better and then I can get to sleep

Yeonjun: Nbd if not tho :)

You. You are in so deep. You shoot your shot.

You: actually that would be nice

You: are you sure you dont mind?

Yeonjun: Absolutely

Yeonjun: Just let me know when you’re ready

You will never be ready.

You: im ready

Your heart beats once. Twice. Thrice.

Your phone rings. Yeonjun’s face pops up, a cute selfie you stole from his Instagram.

You answer it before you have the chance to think about it.

“H-hello?” you stutter, and hate yourself for it.

“Hey,” Yeonjun greets, and you immediately know you didn’t think this through enough. His voice is grumbly and raspy and you feel like you’ve been shot point-blank through the eye.

“Hi,” you breathe, and internally berate yourself for how stupid you sound. “Um. I’m sorry if you were trying to sleep.”

“No,” Yeonjun says. You so badly wish you could see his face. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not even in bed.”

You almost sigh in relief. It’s just a phone call, but you were not at all expecting how … intimate it feels to whisper to him in the middle of the night. Like you’re bearing your soul.

Yeonjun continues. “Are you nervous about school?”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Yeah,” you say, and then take it back. “Well, no, not really. I took so many AP classes in high school it was almost like being in college.”

Yeonjun hums. “Yeah. I’ve heard that college classes are easy for people who took a lot of honors classes in high school. You’re smart, you’ll do great. Why are you nervous?”

You draw a breath, head swirling at his compliment, wondering if you’re really about to go there. “Mostly about our dorm.”

He pauses. “How so?”

You squirm a little. Why. The ever-loving fuck. Did you say that. “I’ve just … I don’t know, I’ve never lived with anyone else, really, my parents mostly stay out of my way and I never interact with my neighbors. I just don’t really know how to live in a building full of other people, let alone in a space with someone else.” You blow out a breath. “I don’t wanna get in your way or anything like that.”

Yeonjun makes a pensive sound, a hum somewhere between surprised and confused. “Well, that’s a little silly.”

You make a face. “What do you mean?”

Yeonjun chuckles a little, and you’re ashamed that the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your back. “Get in my way? Y/N, we’re friends.” He stops for a second, like he’s not sure if it was okay to say that. “You’re not gonna get in my way.”

But I’m just as afraid of that!

“Okay,” you relent. “But you have to promise me that you’ll speak up if I do something weird or that bothers you, okay?”

Yeonjun makes a noise in the back of his throat, and you can hear slight shifting in the background, like he’s moving. “You won’t. You’re organized and nice and quiet, and you won’t do anything that bothers me. I’m only bothered by, like, you doing crack off my textbooks, and I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” You choke out a laugh. Yeonjun snorts. “Please, don’t worry about it.”

Blood rushes to your face. How does he even know what you’re like? You thought he forgot you existed. “I … okay, yeah, that won’t be an issue, but please. Promise me?”

Yeonjun sighs dramatically, but you can tell he’s joking. “Okay, I promise to yell at you if I catch you tripping on acid in our bathroom. Feel better?”

You laugh, but you really do feel better. You’re glad you agreed to call instead of chickening out. “I do. Thank you, Yeonjun.”

You realize it’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud in years. You hear his breath hitch. “Yeah, no problem.”

You decide you’re not ready to hang up yet. “Um, what are you doing this late? If you don’t mind me asking!” you rush out.

“Ah, actually …” he sounds much more timid than he did a few seconds ago, “I’m trying to rekindle that eighth-grade art club magic.”

It takes your brain a second to process that. At first you thought he meant with you. “Oh, you’re drawing?” you ask dumbly.

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” He sounds far away for a second, like he had to put his phone down. “I almost forgot how to do it.”

“I didn’t think you could forget,” you half-laugh.

“Uhm,” Yeonjun says, and there’s the shifting again. You think he’s moving his phone to his other ear. “Well, I haven’t really drawn since middle school, so I’m pretty out of commission. At this point, my hand is used to writing papers, not doodling.”

With such natural talent, Mr. Choi, you need to refine it and use it.

Your art teacher would be so disappointed to hear that. It kind of breaks your heart a little bit, too.

“Well, you should definitely get back in commission,” you joke, but you really mean it. “You were always the most amazing one out of all of us.”

It’s true. You guys didn’t do a lot of projects; the club was mostly just a bunch of kids sitting around, joking and drawing together, but Yeonjun was always who you all looked to when you did. And when you didn’t have anything to do, well … you sat next to him, you saw what he could do. He was amazing. His style was a fusion of realism with pronounced, 90s anime-style lines, his pieces always bursting with bright color and jumping right off the page at whoever was looking at them. He was a master of capturing expressions, even as an eighth grader. They were mesmerizing. To know he set this talent aside just to get into a good college makes you hate the whole education system.

“What!?” He exclaims, louder than he’s been this whole time. “That’s not true at all, you were always the best artist in the club, are you kidding me?”

You?

“Me?” 

“Yes, what the fuck! Your sketches were incredible then, I bet you’re even better now, you didn’t stop like my dumb ass,” he shouts, laughing between words. It’s the most frantic and probably the most genuine you’ve ever heard him. “Not to mention what you could do with paint.”

You … suppose he’s got a point. Your paintings are your pride. However …

“Even if that’s true, which it’s not,” you fire back, getting louder, “art is like, my whole thing, yeah? It’s all I do. You have like, five things. Art isn't even your main thing, Yeonjun. You’re, like, the ultra-amazing-star-soccer-player-valedictorian-boy-genius-best-singer-in-the-whole-choir who just also happens to kick ass at art. That shit is not fair.”

...

Uh, okay, wow. Could you have possibly made it any more obvious that you look at him like he hung the stars up in the sky one by one?

“Christ, Y/N,” he mumbles, and you panic. You open your mouth to apologize, but he speaks too soon. “No one’s ever said anything like that to me.”

You don’t understand.

“How?” You blurt, and want to hit yourself.

“What?”

You swallow. “How has no one ever said that to you? It’s just true.”

Yeonjun laughs quietly, but it’s drenched in nerves. “I don’t, uh, know. Not everyone is as nice as you are, you know.”

“I’m not just being nice,” you insist, your voice going soft, “it’s the truth. You’re good at, like, everything.”

Yeonjun groans. “Stop, my face is gonna explode. How did you spin this on me, huh? This phone call was supposed to be about you. Devious.”

My face is gonna explode.

Did you make Yeonjun blush? The image of him with pink cheeks is enough to send your heart rocketing to Venus.

You stop the takeoff and pull it back into your chest. “I’m just saying!”

Yeonjun laughs at your defensive tone. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. I like talking to you.” He stops, just for two beats. “I’m happy we’re roommates. It’s gonna be a great year.”

Your heart sneaks back into its rocket ship. You let it.

-

part i.

“Jjuni!” You call into your dorm, throwing your keys into the bowl beside the door. “Do you still wanna go get dinner?”

“Yes!” Yeonjun calls, muffled, from his room. “Give me two minutes!”

In the month that you’ve lived with Yeonjun, you’ve picked up on some Jjuni-ese, as you call it. Give me two minutes translates to I am not wearing pants at the moment.

“No rush,” you answer, pit-stopping at your room to throw your backpack on your bed before making a beeline for the bathroom. “I need, like, ten minutes.”

“Okay!” Yeonjun answers, and pops out of his room right before you slip into the bathroom. You exchange grins before you shut the door on him. “Where are you thinking?” He asks, voice getting farther away as he moves to the main room.

“Your pick,” you decide, and you can hear the celebratory yessssss that he whispers.

Ending up as Yeonjun’s roommate is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. No exaggeration.

Ever since that late night phone call before you moved in, you two have been easy friends. You have a lot of the same classes, four out of five, actually, since you’re both first semester freshmen and most of the required classes are the same across the board. Which means your schedules are nearly identical, aside from Yeonjun’s Tuesday-Thursday music class that’s in session while you’re in linguistics. And his soccer practice, of course. It’s kind of exactly what you imagined it would be; walking to class together, pairing up for partner work, heading back to your dorm during your long gap on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to have snacks together, studying together when you have a test in a shared class. Two heads are better than one, and you and Yeonjun make a great team, academically and otherwise. It was clear to everyone else that you were friends. Always together, half of a pair. Y/N-and-Yeonjun. Yeonjun-and-Y/N. You became one entity. You’d never had that before. It deeply satiated some dark hunger for companionship inside you that you didn’t even realize you had.

If only he wasn’t on that goddamn fucking soccer team.

Every weeknight, Yeonjun at soccer. Every Saturday, Yeonjun at soccer. Haunting your dreams, Yeonjun at soccer.

He asked you to come to his first game. You had never been to a sports game before in your life, and you didn’t know what you were doing, which made you nervous, and you had no idea what to expect. But it was Yeonjun. Of course you said yes.

You thought … 

You thought you had gotten everything you wanted. 

You have a best friend who you love and someone who’s good to live with and the safety net of knowing that no matter how scary it is to move to a new place and relearn everything you’ve ever known, you have Yeonjun by your side. That’s what you’ve always wanted. 

And then you saw him play. Sprinting down the field, scoring goals left and right, pumping his fists and high fiving the other guys when they got a point. You saw him jog to the sideline for water, chest heaving and sweat pouring down his face. You saw him scan the crowd for you. You saw him see you. You saw the enormous, uncontrollable smile take over his whole face when you waved shyly to him. You saw him run up to you out of the locker room, once they won the game, once he was showered and changed, you saw how happy he looked to see you there, waiting for him. You saw his arms outstretch before he hugged you so tight and lifted you up and spun you around, and you saw the sheepish little smirk left afterward when he put you back down, promptly taking a step back and offering a tiny, “Hi.”

And everything you wanted

changed.

Your eighth-grade self was wrong. You do wanna kiss Yeonjun. You want to kiss him, and you want to hold his hand on your way to class, and you want to wear his number around campus and to every game so everyone can know that you are soccer star Choi Yeonjun’s girlfriend, and you want to crawl into his lap on Sunday mornings when you both get to be lazy and hide your face in his neck and stay there all day until he beckons you out with the promise of even more kisses. You want so much more than to just be near him. You want to be part of him.

As soon as you got his friendship, it wasn’t enough.

So you do what you do best. Dive headfirst into your schoolwork.

You still wake up at eight am on Monday and get ready for class, still walk to your psychology class with Yeonjun, still talk and laugh with him. You still eat lunch with him and play Super Mario 3D World with him once he gets home from practice. Even now, you’re about to grab dinner together at, if your prediction is correct, the Korean restaurant ten minutes away from your building. You’re still going through the motions. But you don’t dare let your mind linger on him, or your feelings, or what you want. Not even for a moment. Because you know you’ll be fucked.

For now, it’s enough to chase Yeonjun down the sidewalk to get to the parking lot, him taunting, “You’ll never guess where I’m picking!” as you’re panting and laughing behind him and struggling to keep up because he’s fast as hell.

He picks the Korean restaurant.

-

A boy seems to have noticed you.

In your linguistics class, the only one you don’t share with Yeonjun. His name starts with an S, you think. You’re not completely sure. You hardly know anyone at this school besides your dearly beloved roommate.

S - something looks at you a lot. And he always nods his head along with what you’re saying during class discussions when it’s your turn to speak. He’s okay, you think, smart enough, he makes good points in class and shows up and looks like he takes good notes. You think he might make a good possible acquaintance, if you’re not reading too much into this.

“Soobin,” your professor calls on him - aha, Soobin, “your answer to number four, please.”

Soobin clears his throat and starts to recite his homework while you look at your own answer to see if there’s any overlap with your insight. There is; you agree with everything he’s saying, and you nod along with what he says in some weird, linguistic students solidarity. His voice is deeper than you would expect for someone with such dainty features, and you take a moment to note what looks to be a subconscious habit he has of scrunching his nose to push his wire-rimmed glasses up with his cheeks.

He’s quite cute, really.

After you review your homework and your professor gives her lecture, she writes the assignment due for next class on the board. She assigns three chapters instead of the usual two, and you sigh internally at all that reading that you have to complete in a matter of two days. When she dismisses class, you start to pack up your things when you notice a shadow looming over your desk. A rather tall shadow.

“Hey,” Soobin says to you, his voice a lot softer than it was when he was answering the homework question.

“Hi,” you answer, not really sure what’s happening.

He smiles. You’re kind of fixated on his smile. “I noticed you had the same reaction I did when you saw how much reading we have.”

Your immediate reaction is embarrassment. Christ, did you really make a face? Dumb. “Uh,” you say, like an intelligent being, “oh, yeah. Well, three chapters is a lot.”

Soobin shifts on his feet and tugs on his backpack strap. “Yeah, it is. I was just wondering if you wanted to work together and split them up? That way we don’t have to do as much? You always do the homework, so I feel like I can trust you.”

You light up at his suggestion. You would’ve never thought to ask someone that. “Oh, yeah! That would be perfect, actually.”

Soobin relaxes, a cute smile finding its way onto his face when you agree. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. “You can just text yourself, so then you have my number, too. You can look over the chapters and the questions and decide which ones you wanna do and just let me know?” It’s a statement, but he says it like a question.

You take his phone and do as he says, adding your name to his contacts and sticking a little star emoji by your name for good measure and texting yourself a “hello”.

He grins when you hand him his phone back, glancing down at the screen before slipping it back into his pocket and meeting your eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll see you Thursday?”

You nod as he heads out, calling a “Have a good night!” behind him.

Huh.

You may have just made your first friend in the wild.

-

Is there anything more precious than Yeonjun in class? You don’t think there is.

You’re in there with him, beside him for almost every one, so you see it. He’s different in college classes than he was in high school. Back in those days, he was always silent from the moment he walked in the classroom until he left, unless he was called on. Never commented, never raised his hand, never chatted with the people around him. But now, he’s loosened significantly. Not that he’s disrespectful, not at all. He’s just as big of a teacher’s pet as you are, both of you sitting in the front of every class, notebooks waiting on your desks and pencils poised in your hands. You professors love you, love that you’ll mostly keep to yourselves, only surrendering answers when it’s clear that no one else will. But he talks to you when you get there early, commenting on the homework or what you’re planning on having to eat later or “Oh wow, Y/N, that jacket is so cool, where’d you get that?”. He also sends you quite a few pointed looks, especially when another one of your classmates says something stupid or is acting like an ape. You always have to stifle your giggles with your hand when he flashes you that exasperated face he makes so well.

But he still is so studious. In high school, you never really sat near him in any of your shared classes. Now, you get a clear view of him at all times (which isn’t good for your attention span in lectures, but somehow you manage to take good notes and watch Jjuni out of the corner of your eye at the same time), and god, he’s so cute.

He does take good notes, you can tell. You see him scrawling furiously on the page whenever the professor says anything that sounds remotely important. He looks so concentrated in those moments, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed. But you also watch him when things slow down, when you review things you’ve already learned, he relaxes. He leans back in his chair, doodling absentmindedly around his notes, drawing little characters or writing ‘HI’ to you in big block letters when he knows you’re looking.

Okay … maybe you don’t take the best notes with Yeonjun being a constant distraction. But he lets you steal his notebooks and studies with you, so maybe it’s not as big of a problem as it sounds.

-

Working with Soobin goes great. You don’t have to do as much work, but you still get the gist of what the material that you didn’t read entails because of Soobin’s answers he sends you. The two of you decide to work together from now on, and you’re more than happy with that. That linguistics textbook is dense and full of jargon that takes forever to get through thanks to how many words you have to look up. 

At Yeonjun’s game Friday, right after the whistle is blown for halftime, you hear someone calling your name. Someone who’s not Yeonjun.

This confuses you.

You look around wildly before the person realizes you don’t see them and says your name again.

You look to the field and your eyes fall on Soobin.

You had no idea he was on the team, but honestly, it’s kind of crazy that you didn’t notice. He’s the tallest one out there. Just goes to show that you’re so distracted by Yeonjun that you pay no mind to anyone else.

Don’t go there, don’t go there.

You smile at him and wave, and he returns it before jogging away to get some water. It makes you laugh to yourself, how the only two people you’ve managed to form any kind of relationship with are both on the soccer team. Although, you would’ve definitely imagined Soobin as a basketball player instead. You think he could score a slam dunk with his feet firmly on the ground.

The team loses for the first time this season. They played well, but their goalie seemed to be a little out of it. You feel bad for Yeonjun, always giving it his all, and your heart aches when he sulks out of the locker room. You pout at his forlorn expression and pull him into a hug. “You played great,” you mumble into his ear, “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” he says, quieter than usual, but still Jjuni. You let go with a pat on his arm, which makes him smile. “Hey, um, I --”

“Hey, Y/N!”

You perk up at the noise, peeking around Yeonjun to see around him the same time he turns around to look.

It’s Soobin, of course.

“Oh, hey,” you smile at him as he comes up to you and Yeonjun. He looks great, like the game invigorated him even though they lost. You can sense how much he loves the sport. “You guys did great,” you continue politely.

Soobin smiles, but snorts dismissively. “We were alright. But hey, it was a close one. All part of the game.”

You’re glad that he can accept it so easily. You know Yeonjun’s insane perfectionist streak won’t let him think that way, even though he knows it’s true.

You shrug. “I’m always impressed by you guys.” You pause, trying to decide if you should switch to a more neutral topic. “Have you read chapter sixteen yet, by the way? Fifteen was so boring I think my body was shutting down in an attempt to escape.”

Soobin laughs. You feel Yeonjun stiffen beside you, just a little bit. “I haven’t, I was going to tonight. Am I going to experience suicidal urges?”

“If it’s anything like fifteen, yeah, probably. I’ll send you my answers?”

He flashes a thumbs up and looks at Yeonjun. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” his gaze falls on you, “and you Tuesday.”

“See ya, ‘Bin,” Yeonjun says, his voice a little strained, as Soobin waves to both of you and jogs away.

And then Yeonjun turns to you. “You know Soobin?” He sounds absolutely perplexed.

You can’t help but notice how tense Yeonjun is. He’s trying to keep cool on the outside, but you can sense something simmering underneath, and it unsettles you. It’s just frustration from losing the game, you try to convince yourself, why would Yeonjun be upset with you?

“Yeah, he’s in my linguistics class,” you say, trying to gauge his reaction as you explain. “We agreed to help each other out with assignments, since the material is so hard and our professor assigns so much work.”

Yeonjun nods slowly, like he needs a moment to understand. “That makes sense. He’s a nice guy.”

You … don’t really know what to say to that. And you really don’t like this feeling like … like you have to be careful of what you say, like you’re walking on eggshells. You hate that. And not just because it’s Yeonjun. “Yeah,” you finally decide to say, “it was his idea; I would’ve never thought to ask someone that.”

This finally seems to make him relax, and a small smile appears. Hallelujah. “Then I’m glad. You already have way too much work, even when we can do it together.” He looks at you hesitantly before pulling you into a kind of awkward side hug.

You shove him playfully, happy to have him being himself again, and he laughs at your awful attempt at moving him. “Look who’s talking! You have everything I have plus one million eons of soccer practice a week.”

“One million eons?” He chokes out, smile back in full force. “Christ, I might have to actually quit if it was that much. Fuck the scholarship.”

“Well, that’s how it feels to me.” You feel like a petulant child, but it makes him laugh. “Sitting in our dorm. Alone. Waiting for you to come back.”

It’s his turn to shove you. “Don’t guilt trip me, please. Once the season ends, I’ll be around, I swear.” He gives you a pointed look. “We can play all the video games you want, would that make you happy?”

Your heart bursts into bloom as he teases you. “Yes,” you urge, “very much so.”

“Well, it’ll only be on for like a month longer, two months at most.”

You go to reply, ready to make a joke about him losing on purpose so the season is shorter, but then remember that he was about to say something before Soobin interrupted. “Oh, hey, um, what were you saying before, by the way?”

He looks up, like he’s sifting through his memories, before a baby pink blush settles on his cheeks. Your chest aches; a bashful Yeonjun is your favorite sight on planet earth. In the whole milky way. In the whole universe.

“Oh,” he finally says, scratching the back of his neck like you can’t tell something’s going on. “I don’t remember.”

You narrow your eyes.

He laughs sheepishly. He knows you know he’s full of shit. “Maybe I’ll think of it later.”

You decide to just leave it. “Sure, Jjuni. You must be hungry, yeah?”

He straightens, growing a few inches from the slouch he was in. “Uh, yes, always. Can we get dinner? Your pick?”

You hum. It’s sweet of him to let you pick, but you know what he really wants. “Korean sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“... Have I told you lately that you’re my best friend?”

-

Two weeks later, you’re assigned a presentation in linguistics.

“I know how some of you feel about group projects,” your professor says as she passes out the rubric, giving you a pointed look and smile at that comment, and it makes you flush. You always get to class first, so you’ve had plenty of time to chat with her about your coursework. You may have let it slip that you hate group projects. But you love your professor, you don’t mind her teasing. “So, I figured I’d make it optional. You can work by yourself for this assignment. But I would highly, highly recommend pairing up with one or two others. Your presentation needs to last at least fifteen minutes, and you’ll need to do a lot of research to get it to that length. You’ll lose a point for every five seconds short it is.” She pauses as she makes her way back to the podium. “Read over the rubric and have your topic chosen by Tuesday. I also need to know who you’ll be working with or if you’ll be doing it alone. Keep in mind that you’re giving this presentation in place of a midterm exam, so take it seriously, as it’ll be thirty percent of your grade.”

You gnaw at your bottom lip as she launches into the topics that won’t be accepted (there are only a few -- you have a lot of freedom of choice). You’re torn. On one hand, you hate group projects. You hate relying on people and feel like you can’t trust their work, if they even do their part, that is. But you also know how long fifteen minutes really is to present on something; you struggled to get a speech to eight minutes for your communications class, and that was only half of this presentation’s minimum.

Luckily, you don’t have to think too long about it.

Soobin’s immediately at your desk the moment class ends. “Do you wanna do this together?”

You ponder this. You know Soobin’s trustworthy from working on homework with him, and you’re certain that he wouldn’t skimp out on something worth thirty percent of his grade. He’s adamant about a 4.0. You know he’s good at linguistics and won’t make you do all the hard work. Not to mention that research is … not your strong suit. You’ll accept help on that front.

You smile at him. “Of course.”

Soobin beams. It pleases you that two words from you are all it takes to light his whole face up. “Great, because I already had a few topics in mind …”

And he’s already off.

He does have some good ideas. You walk out of the building together and narrow it down to two possible topics before you have to part, you heading back to your dorm and Soobin going to the library. “Text me when you’re free,” he says happily. “We can get together and look for sources. Whichever has the most good ones we’ll pick, yeah?”

You’re so happy you have Soobin. You would’ve hated to do this by yourself. “Yes, that sounds perfect. I’ll let you know. I’ll talk to you later?”

Soobin nods. He seems ever cheerier than usual today, and his constant smile makes you smile, too. “Sounds good. Have a good rest of your day!”

You wish him the same as you start on your way to your dorm, starving since you skipped breakfast and looking forward to the leftover chicken Yeonjun made last night waiting in your fridge. Ever since he said you could have it this morning, it’s been on your mind. Of course he’s good at cooking too, on top of everything else. Fucker.

“Yo yo yo,” he greets from the couch when you come in, “I actually beat you here today.”

You huff. “Yeah, well, I just got assigned a fifteen-minute presentation worth thirty percent of my grade.”

Yeonjun makes a disgusted face, his nose and eyes all scrunched up. “Oh, ew, why?”

This makes you laugh. “I know, right? The nerve.” You hesitate before you continue tentatively, “Soobin said he’ll work with me, so that helps.”

Yeonjun nods, a little stiff, but still normal. “That’s good. Is he good at linguistics?”

Your shoulders sag a little in relief. You haven’t forgotten about Yeonjun’s weirdness at the game last Friday when Soobin came up to talk to you. You get the feeling he doesn’t like Soobin as much as he says he does, and it makes you sad. You want them to get along, of course, but you also don’t want the tension of feeling like you’re betraying Yeonjun if you’re with Soobin. You would never want to feel like you’re picking sides. Even though Yeonjun would win every time.

You nod. “Yeah, I trust him. And if it means I don’t have to do as much research, I’ll do anything. I hate sifting through the databases.”

Yeonjun groans loudly, and you know it’s jokey, but the sound still makes you flinch. You tell yourself to get your goddamn head out of the gutter. “Shit, yeah, I hate research projects. I do not envy you right now. I saved that chicken for you though, if you need a pick me up.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him with a grin, sincerity bleeding into your words.

You decide to just give your heart what it wants and plop down beside him, sliding down and flinging yourself against him. “Oh, so it’s one of those afternoons,” he teases as you rub the back of your head against his chest.

“Shut up, Jjuni,” you say. “Thinking about this is making me miserable. I need to spread my despair on this whole couch.”

This makes him chuckle, and you feel an arm snake around your torso and pull you in, so you’re effectively in his lap.

Um.

This is not what you were trying to do. And now you kind of feel like your insides were just dumped off a plane. Free falling.

“Gimme that despair,” he grumbles, and you can hear his smile in his voice, his words falling against your neck, the tickle making you squeal. “I want some, share it with me.”

Your noises turn into screams and belly laughs as Yeonjun starts to run his fingers down your arms and sides, and fuck, you regret telling him you’re ticklish. He laughs loudly, surprised that he could get this much of a reaction out of you, and it only spurs him on until you’re struggling to breathe and shoving his arms away, but they’re longer than yours and he has the upper hand, so he still manages to reach. “F-fuck you, ahh! Choi Yeonjun! I ha-hate you!”

He finally stops, leaving your poor skin alone in favor of tugging you into a way-too-tight hug. “You don’t! Come on, you could never.”

He’s right, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I could when you torture me!” You wiggle a little, but he doesn’t let up. “Jjuni.”

He giggles at your deadpan tone. “What, you don’t like cuddling? This is quality roommate time!”

“I like cuddling, but I like breathing more!”

“Sheesh, high maintenance,” he complains, but loosens his grip. Now you’re perched on his lap, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You breathe out shakily.

Yeonjun catches it. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, letting you go completely. “I, uh, sorry. If you actually hate it. I took it too far.”

You do not like that dejected tone of his voice.

“No,” you whine, grabbing his hands and pulling them back around you, “this is good.”

His arms hover above you, reluctant to actually embrace you like before. “Are you sure?”

You nod. You can suck it up and ignore your feelings for a while if it makes Yeonjun feel better. You’d hate for him to feel like he can’t play around with you.

“Okay,” he relents, draping his arms on you and nestling his head closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, and sighs a happy little sound.

Okay … so this might be harder than you thought.

-

part ii.

You’re taking a walk.

It’s not something you’re known to do. But it’s Friday evening and you don’t have any plans and you kind of just want some time to think about everything without Yeonjun crawling next to you on the couch and distracting you.

Which is a great place to start. Things are different, now. With Yeonjun. After the cuddling-tickling-whatever incident.

It’s like you both only needed to get past the awkwardness of that first touch, and now skin ship is a very common occurrence in your dorm. You never knew Yeonjun was this touchy, but honestly, you don’t know how he hid it for those first few months. This boy is clingy.

It brings the two of you closer. If you were always together before, you’re attached at the hip now. There was even a terribly awkward encounter when you invited Soobin over to work on your presentation and Yeonjun offered to go pick up takeout for the three of you. As soon as he was gone, Soobin smiled at you and said, “He’s a good boyfriend, ‘Jun. He’s always so serious at practice, but he’s a completely different person around you.”

Funny how it only took two sentences for Soobin to rip your heart out of your chest and hurl it to Antarctica.

“Oh, um, he’s not my boyfriend,” you rushed to explain, knowing your red cheeks were really not helping the situation at hand.

Soobin cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? Sorry, I just assumed. You guys seem so close.”

You tried not to wince. “Yeah, well, we are,” you hedged, “not quite like that, though.”

Soobin just shrugged and dove back into the database he’d been rifling through.

But if Soobin assumes you’re dating, you wondered, does that mean other people do, too?

This development is … not good for you.

You’re getting too comfortable with Yeonjun, with his constant presence, with his affection. You’re starting to slide, and you know this slope is slippery. You have to remind yourself several times a day that what you said to Soobin is true -- you’re not Yeonjun’s girlfriend, he doesn’t owe you anything other than being your roommate, this isn’t what you’re pretending it is. Your hope is muddling your sense of reality. And you’re letting it.

Like when you two studied for your psych exam together, quizzing each other on the couch and rewarding yourselves with gummy bears when you got the answers right. He kept sliding closer and closer to you until your t-shirts brushed, your knees pressed against each other, and somehow you were breathless even though there was barely any skin touching his. Or when he was writing his midterm paper for his music class and you kept hearing him sigh in frustration, so you took it upon yourself to make him a grilled cheese (it’s so simple, but you know he loves when you make them), sneaking up behind him with the sandwich cut on a plate and placing it beside him. He gasped when he saw it and whipped around to face you, eyes starry and smile forming and a tiny “For me?” came out of his mouth and god damn if you didn’t fall in love right there from that alone. You nodded and situated yourself behind him, sliding up to his back and wrapping your arms around him and resting your cheek against his shoulder. “You can do it, Jjuni,” you told him firmly, because you knew he could. Or even yesterday when you had a free Saturday and decided to bust out your watercolors because you haven’t gotten to paint since the semester started and your world feels much duller without it. You painted the sea, you usually do, you miss the water and the beaches and the shores. And when Yeonjun wandered into your room after he finally woke up, he sat quietly on your bed and watched you wordlessly. Once you were done, you met his eyes, and he was already smiling. Later, when you were picking up some things at the convenience store together, he ran off in search of something and came back in a few minutes with a shiny fridge magnet. “This’ll have to do until we get a frame,” he said, “for your painting.”

Every time you two end up on the couch, snuggled up against each other, you tell yourself it’s the last time. That you won’t let yourself do it again. But when the two of you part ways to go to bed and you burrow into your sheets, the smell of him still on your clothes, you’re already desperate for more. It’s torture. You feel like you’ve been ruined for life, for any other human being. Like it’ll never be as intense as it is with him. How could it be? How could anything even come close when you’re left reeling after his fingers brush against yours? You’re having all the feelings those stupid love songs talk about and you’ve never even so much as kissed him.

(Well, that’s not entirely true …)

The week after your linguistics project was assigned, the next Thursday, you were exhausted. You had to be up early for your first class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you’d been working on your project in the library with Soobin for hours before he had to go to practice. After you went back home, Yeonjun was already gone, so you decided to hunker down and just write out as much of it as you could. You knocked a good bit of it out -- ten slides and most of the works cited page. However, around nine o’ clock, your brain decided it was time to shut down, and you fell asleep right there on the couch, laptop still open and various books and packets scattered around you.

This is what Yeonjun was greeted with when he got home.

“Hey,” is what you woke up to, voice soft and touch gentle as he shook your shoulder a little, drawing you from sleep. “The couch is not the best place for a nap, silly.”

“Yeonjun?” you mumbled blearily, still mostly asleep and confused. “What’s going on?”

He smiled at you, big and charming, and your heart did something enthusiastic in your chest. “You fell asleep. While doing work, I assume.”

“Oh,” you murmured, not too happy about being awake, but thrilled as ever to see Yeonjun. “Oh, right, you were at practice.” His smile spread as he nodded. “How was it?”

“It was good, sleepyhead,” he teased. “You’ve been working hard, huh?”

“Mm,” you confirmed, “got a lotta slides done.”

“Good job,” he cooed, taking your hand and pulling you off of the couch. “You did great today. But I think it’s bedtime now, hm?”

You nodded and let him pull you along like a doll, following him to your room.

“You’ll sleep well, yeah?” He asked, stopping in the doorway.

“Mhm,” you promised, but hesitated. You looked at your Yeonjun, into his sparking eyes, at his tiny, fond smile. Your heart wanted to kiss him.

You pressed a peck to his cheek before any logic could kick in, and mumbled “You’re a good friend, Jjuni,” before falling into his arms in embrace.

He chuckled, the sound higher than usual. “You are, too,” he whispered, letting you go and mussing up your hair before leaving.

So. Technically you have kissed him. But not, like, really.

And now all your classes are getting harder since it’s the second half of the semester and even though you and Soobin finished your project, you have significantly more assignments than before and you’re trying to balance all of it with all of these stupid Yeonjun feelings that you shouldn’t be having and it sucks. But what sucks worst of all is that you want to be able to vent about all this to your best friend, but you can’t! Because he is the very one you’re harboring said forbidden feelings for!

Part of you wants to ask Soobin for advice, but you really don’t want to turn your still-blossoming friendship with him into you asking him relationship questions. Also, you don’t know if you can trust him not to tell Yeonjun. You don’t think he would, but you don’t want to take any chances. At the end of the day, it’s your secret. If it got to Yeonjun from anyone other than you, you would be upset.

But things are ... okay. You can’t complain. You’re probably happier than you’ve ever been in your entire life; it feels like everything has been leading up to this. It’s just that you’re a bit greedy when it comes to Yeonjun, that’s all.

So when you come home from your stroll around your little college town, ready to crawl right into bed to complete the lamest Friday night in campus history, the last thing you really want is for Yeonjun to keep muddling your brain with his affection. You’re relieved to find his bedroom door closed once you’re inside -- not a very normal occurrence, but neither is you going on a walk by yourself, so you don’t think much of it.

You use your evening to do the psych homework that’s due Monday and listen to music, actually enjoying the alone time that you had so much of before you lived with Yeonjun. When you venture out into the kitchen for some ramen, Yeonjun’s still in his room. You take it upon yourself to make two cup noodles instead of one and knock gently on his door once they’re ready.

Thirty seconds go by, and he doesn’t respond. You knock again, louder this time, and call to him. Still nothing. You really don’t want to violate his privacy and just walk in, but you’re starting to get a little worried. You decide to text him, even though he’s probably five feet away.

You: are you alive in there?

The response comes almost instantly.

Yeonjun: last time i checked?

You roll your eyes.

You: i’ve been knocking for two minutes old man clean out your ears

You can hear a grumbled “Oh shit” before his door is being pulled open. He kind of looks like he just walked out of a tornado, his hair a ruffled mess, and he’s looking at you, perplexed. “What’s up?”

Your eyes fall to the headphones around his neck. That explains it. “Ramen?” You offer.

His lips fall into a small, shy smile. “What time is it?”

His cluelessness makes you grin. “Jjuni. It’s nine o’clock.”

He shakes his head, taken aback. “Christ, okay. I lost track of time.” He pauses before meeting your eyes. “Thank you. For the ramen.” He plucks the cup and chopsticks from your hand and pokes your cheek with his free hand. “And for taking care of me.”

Your face bursts into a blush, and you know he can tell, because his grin turns cheeky. “Yeah, um, no problem. I’m not gonna let you starve.” You grab his arm and regret it as soon as you do. It feels even more awkward than you thought it might. “I think I’m going to go to bed soon so … goodnight. Don’t stay up too late.”

He grabs your arm in turn and pulls you into a side-hug. “Yes, mother,” he teases you. “Sweet dreams.”

You don’t really know why you’re so tired, but you’re in bed by ten. You wish you didn’t, but you snuggle into your extra pillow and maybe pretend you’re hugging someone’s chest. And if that helps you fall asleep even faster, then that’s just a coincidence.

But it doesn’t last.

“Y/N. Y/N.”

Your eyes (reluctantly) open. “Wh … what?” You slur, still mostly asleep.

Yeonjun is in front of you, you finally realize through your haze. “Uh, sorry,” he says, looking sheepish and sounding way too awake for -- you glance at your clock -- four in the morning. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I had a weird dream. Um. You were hurt, and … yeah. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“‘S okay,” you mumble, reaching out and loosely linking your fingers with his. “I’m okay. You okay?”

He nods, but you’re not convinced. He still looks shaken. “You can go back to sleep.”

You push yourself into a sitting position, turning on your bedside lamp and shaking your head. “Nuh uh, c’mere. Let’s talk, Jjuni.”

He smiles for the first time as you tug on his hand. “Really, we don’t have to.”

“Uh-uh, come on. You helped me that one night on the phone, before we moved in.” You’re finally starting to wake up. Yeonjun relaxes enough to let you pull him down next to you. “Let me help you now.” 

He looks maybe the most awkward you’ve ever seen him, sitting next to you on your bed, still holding your hand (neither of you made the move to let go). “You wanna talk about it?”

Yeonjun looks to his lap and shakes his head. “No, no, it was dumb. I just wanted to check on you. It freaked me out a little.”

“Mm,” you hum, scooting closer to him so you’re arm to arm and leaning your head on his shoulder. “That used to happen to me a lot in high school. I’d have this recurring dream that everyone else in the world was just gone and it was only me left.”

Yeonjun’s thumb starts to rub little circles on your hand. “Ew. That one sounds way scarier.”

“It was terrifying,” you admit, feeling more comfortable being vulnerable for the sake of making him feel better. “I used to wake up crying and I couldn’t fall asleep again. But one day, it just stopped. I guess I felt less alone.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. 

You’re both quiet for a little while, then. Not an awkward silence, but a peaceful one. After a little while, Yeonjun murmurs, “Come here,” and pulls you into his arms. You’re perched on his lap, face buried in his chest, your arms locked around him. It feels so good to be so close to him. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask after a few minutes have passed, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“Sure.”

“I really wanted to be your friend in middle school.”

This makes him laugh quietly. “When we were in art club?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I was too afraid to talk to you. I thought you were too cool.”

He chuckles again, and brings his hand to your hair, stroking it. “No one’s cool in middle school.”

“You were,” you say genuinely, but then realize you might be laying it on a little too thick. “I mean, I thought you were. I’ve since learned that you’re actually a huge dweeb.”

He laughs for real this time, loudly, and you can feel the vibrations pressed up against you. “I’m glad you see the real me, now.”

A few seconds pass.

“I wanted to be friends with you then, too,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

You peek your head out of his chest to look at him. “You’re not just saying that?”

He looks at you fondly and shakes his head.

You settle back into his embrace, immensely satisfied. “Took us long enough.”

You’re silent after that, nestled in each other as your breathing syncs and slows. You think you feel Yeonjun fall asleep in your arms, but you don’t want to wake him, being that it’s probably after five at this point. All you can do is snuggle into him, smiling smugly when his arms tighten around you, and think, wow.

This is so much better than your pillow.

- 

You may still be asleep, but your source of warmth is moving away, and you can’t have that.

Your halfway-conscious self wiggles back toward it, pulling it into you and wrapping yourself around it.

“Y/N.”

You whine, still not awake, but hating the feeling of having him tugged away from you.

Him.

You go from half-awake to fully awake in seconds. Your eyes fly open as you realize what’s happening, letting go of Yeonjun and scooting away like you’ll be electrocuted if you touch him for one moment longer. 

Yeonjun is in your bed, tangled up in your sheets, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Sorry,” he cringes. 

You can’t tell if he’s sorry for waking you up or for sleeping with you, but it doesn’t matter. “Don’t be sorry,” you say. “Was I … um … clinging for long?”

Yeonjun’s face is beet red. Your heart skips several beats. “Uh, yeah. But so was I, when I woke up. So it’s okay.”

You can hardly believe it. You really canoodled with Yeonjun for hours.

You push yourself into a sitting position. “You slept okay? After your dream?”

“Mhm,” he confirms, stealing your hand and intertwining your fingers. “Thank you. For helping me. And letting me stay.”

This does not feel platonic. Not the way he’s looking at you. Not the way he’s squeezing your hand. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, silly,” you say, trying to lighten how heavy the atmosphere feels. You kind of feel like a soup can under a hydraulic press. 

He shakes his head. “It means a lot. You really are my best friend, you know that?”

You’d think you’d be a little disheartened for being friend zoned, but you’re not. He sounds so, so sincere, and so thankful to have you … you can only be ecstatic. “You’re my best friend, too. I feel so lucky to have you.”

He smiles and looks down at the space between you. “Uh, can I ask you something?”

The weight is back.

“Shoot.”

He fidgets with your sheets a little, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Your eyes are trained on the movement. “Would you wear my number? To our game today?”

You can’t contain the huge grin that spreads across your face as you meet his gaze. You’ve had this exact fantasy before. “I could have the honor of wearing soccer star Choi Yeonjun’s jersey? To his own game? To officially take the spot as his number one hype man?”

He grins back, and nods. “I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

And wow, if that doesn’t make your heart race faster than the speed of light.

You eventually have to leave your bed, but the two of you have breakfast together (okay, well, you eat granola bars on the couch while Yeonjun puts on some anime, but that still counts as breakfast together) before he starts getting ready to head out. You just stay on the couch as he flits about your dorm, only moving when he unceremoniously throws his spare jersey on your head. 

“Jjuni!” you scold as he giggles, coming back down to sit next to you.

You tug it off of you, smoothing it out so it doesn’t wrinkle and lay it across your lap. Choi 09 stares back at you in big, bold letters.

“Thank you for being my hype man,” Yeonjun says, voice a little soft.

You smile at him and just decide to just put it on over your shirt -- it’s big enough on you to cover it. You love the way it feels on you. “Perfect fit, hm?”

Yeonjun bites his lip for a split second, but you catch it. “I think so.”

You hug him and wish him luck, but mostly to get him to stop looking at you like that. You could feel your self control start to unravel when his eyes darkened.

Later, as you’re making the trip across campus via the bus because you don’t feel like walking to the soccer field, you get a text from Soobin.

Soobin: are you coming to the game??

You: of course i am!

Soobin: ok good!

Soobin: make sure to cheer extra hard for yeonjun

Soobin: he seems out of it today

You frown. He seemed perfectly fine before he left. 

You: will do. thank u for looking out for him. and good luck!

Soobin: no problem. i’ll see you after the game :)

You rub your fingers along the fabric of Yeonjun’s jersey peeking out from under your jacket. You’ll be cheering, alright.

Yeonjun is out of it, it’s so obvious once the game starts. He’s not playing like he usually does, he’s not at the top of his game. He’s distracted, and everyone can tell. You can hear the people behind you wondering aloud, What the fuck is up with number nine? He’s usually our best player.

It takes a while for everyone else to realize that he’s distracted by you.

The reason he’s not focused is because he keeps looking at you. You didn’t take your usual spot toward the back, you sat as close to the field as you could. And you knew it would be freezing, so you put on a long-sleeved shirt on under Yeonjun’s jersey before you left your dorm. You wanted to be able to take your jacket off so he could see you wearing it. You didn’t really care enough to wonder if it looked ridiculous. 

He gets this far-off look whenever you catch his eye, giving him your best smile, willing him telepathically to kick some ass. 

The first half ends pretty uneventfully -- even with Yeonjun not at his best, the rest of the team is still good enough to keep it down to 0-1. He looks at you again when the whistle is blown, and you urge him over to you before he leaves. He glances back at his teammates and jogs over to you, a small smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, leaning over the barrier and grabbing both of his shoulders, “are you okay? Is something wrong?”

The smile slips. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, distracted.”

You giggle a little, you can’t help it. “Uh, yeah, I can tell. You can do it, Jjuni. Star-soccer-player-boy-genius, remember?” You tug at your (his) shirt. “And you have your number one hype man, yeah? I might have to scream if you score, since I’m so far up front.”

He smiles again, real this time. “Okay, yeah. I’m holding you to that, though.”

You have to roll your eyes. “Scout’s honor. Now go.”

You push him away to join his teammates, and he blows you a sneaky kiss before turning around and jogging away. You flush at the very public display of affection and shake your head.

But your rousing speech must’ve stirred something in him, because in the second half of the game, Yeonjun is electric.

He commands the field. 0-1 only lasts forty-five seconds longer before he scores. And true to your word, you’re on your feet.

“That’s more like it, Choi!” you scream, hands cupped around your mouth like that’ll keep the people around you from hearing, “Let’s go!”

Yeonjun’s grin is enormous, bigger than you’ve ever seen as he sends a salute your way. You slump back down in your seat and bury your face in your hands, already so embarrassed. You hope he knows he’s the only human being on Earth that you would do this for.

“Way to whip your boy into shape!” A girl encourages behind you, bumping you with her elbow and grinning.

You can’t even find it in you to argue. Maybe Yeonjun isn’t your boy, but look at you. Dressed in his clothes, screaming across the field for him, front row at his game. You’re his girl through and through.

After the game ends (6-1, by the way, four of which were Yeonjun), he flies into your arms. It reminds you of the first game, which feels so long ago and like yesterday at the same time, and you’re so overwhelmed and all-consumed by your ridiculous love for stupid Yeonjun that it catches up with you and you’re sniffling into his shoulder. Yeonjun pulls back, concern filling his irises when he realizes you’re crying. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He murmurs, catching your tears with his thumb as they fall.

You offer him a watery smile. “You just did so good,” you curb, which is true, just not the whole truth. “I’m so proud of you, Jjuni.”

He laughs, but you know it’s not in a mean way. “Well gee, thanks, but that’s no reason to cry, sugarbee.”

His term of endearment makes you melt into the ground. You have to unstick your shoes from the pavement. “I don’t know, it was just fun. And you looked amazing. Those guys didn’t know what hit them. That poor goalie.”

You see a mischievous glint in his eyes before he’s sweeping you off your feet, hoisting you in his arms. “Can I give you a piggyback ride home? As a thank you for being such a good hype man?”

You don’t know why on earth Yeonjun would think you would ever want that, but you can’t lie, you kind of like the idea of high tailing it across campus on Yeonjun’s back, his name proudly displayed on your shirt. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

He looks shocked that you agreed, a mischievous glint lighting up in his eyes. He wordlessly bends down and urges you up onto him.

Oh.

Doing this in theory and being presented with the opportunity to crawl on him feel like two very different things. But this is Yeonjun, and you can’t say no to him, so you hop on, letting his hands coax your legs around his waist and gripping behind your knees. You wrap your arms around his neck and try to control your breathing. You think about the handful of desperate nights where you wished for him, wanting him. You didn’t imagine the first time spreading your legs for him would be quite like this.

You quickly shake that thought from your mind. Now is possibly the worst time and place for those thoughts.

He cranes his neck to look at you. “Ready, princess?”

You know he’s teasing you, but that name brings those thoughts right back to the forefront of your mind. “If I’m the princess, does that make you the horse?”

He laughs loudly and takes off.

-

part iii.

You wish you could say that things are going great, but that’s not true.

After the game, things were great! It was a great night. Yeonjun took you home and the two of you put on headphones and had a dance party to get rid of the post-game jitters that he still had. You didn’t wanna play anything too loud and get a noise complaint, so you both moved wildly, listening to different songs, but still somehow feeling like you were doing it together. After you were both finally spent, you hit the couch, deciding to splurge on some Chinese takeout because it felt like a special occasion even though it really wasn’t. You got a lot of food, but the two of you mowed through most of it. Once you were delightfully full and starting to get drowsy, you got tangled up in each other, you in his lap chest-to-chest again, your favorite place on earth, his arms tight around you, his head on your shoulder, his exhales hitting your neck and racking your body with shivers. You may have prayed that neither of you would ever have to move again.

But of course you did. Yeonjun carried you to your room once he decided you were about to fall asleep and put you to bed, still in all your clothes and his jersey, and tucked you in. You kept a tight hold on his hand when he said goodnight, and didn’t say a thing out loud, but gave him a look that he knew meant please stay.

“Are you sure?” he had whispered.

You nodded and gave him a soft tug.

He tumbled into your bed beside you, gathering your body all up in his arms immediately, all traces of embarrassment from the same thing that morning gone. He slid a leg between your own, letting his hand rest on your lower back as he pressed you closer to him. You felt drunk on him, his nearness.

No words were exchanged that night. None were in the morning, either, when you awoke to an empty bed and Yeonjun making breakfast. 

But after that, it was like the Earth had halted.

For as touchy and clingy as Yeonjun was that night and the days before, after that morning, he stopped. No more pulling you into his lap when you watched TV, no more casual touches and arm brushes, no more enormous hugs after his games. 

You were petrified. Did you screw up? Push his affection too far? Make him do something he didn’t wanna do? But it didn’t make sense -- he was always the one initiating the touching and hugging and cuddling. And he did promise to tell you if you made him uncomfortable in any way before you moved in. 

He was still perfectly friendly and normal and Yeonjun-like. All of those things were still there. But it was like all the skin ship never happened. No couch cuddles, no hand grabs, no nights spent together in your bed. It all just stopped.

You hate how much you hate that.

You so badly yearn for Yeonjun’s touch now, always. When you walk to class together, you’re so, so aware of his presence next to you that it’s all you can do to not grab his arm and just cling to him. You know it’s dramatic, but it feels like he gave you all of him. And now he’s taken it away, and you just don’t understand.

You almost want to apologize just in case you did do something wrong, but you’re too afraid to even do that. To even bring it up. He definitely seems like he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

And that’s another thing. He keeps pushing you to hang out with Soobin.

And not as the three of you! Just you and him. And for that matter, he seems to want you to be close with anyone else. Like he wants you to have other friends. 

“Hey,” he had said to you a few days into your new, no touching existence, “what are your thoughts about clubs?”

“Um,” you replied, not having any clue why he was asking that, “I figured I would join one, maybe two next year. Just so I could have this year to focus on getting accustomed to everything else without having to worry about it. Why?”

He looked almost … uncomfortable. “I was just wondering. I kind of feel bad because I have soccer and that’s how I meet people and you don’t really have anything like that. I know it’s hard to make friends in class, so I was just wondering if clubs were an option for you. I just don’t want me and Soobin to be … your only options, you know? I want you to have other people to hang out with so you don’t get sick of me.”

You honestly didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that. You kind of felt like you should’ve been.

“I appreciate your concern for me having no friends, Mom,” you joked, “but I’m okay. I’ve never had a big group of friends. I’ll live.”

Yeonjun blushed, realizing what exactly he said. “Y/N, you know I didn’t mean it like that, right?”

“Of course,” you answered, even though you didn’t, not really. “I don’t wanna smother you.”

He winced. “You’re not, that’s really not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

You muster a smile, but you can tell it looks sad. “Don’t be sorry. ‘S okay, Jjuni.”

If this had been happening two weeks earlier, Yeonjun would’ve gathered you into a gigantic hug. But he just sighed a little and went back to his work.

As a result of Yeonjun’s pushing, you actually have been hanging out with Soobin a lot more. You’ve learned that he likes to tie in food with everything, so you grab lunch or coffee with him a few times a week. He’s really easy to talk to, and you don’t feel like you’re slowly suffocating in your feelings when you’re around him like you do with Yeonjun. He talks about most everything, about soccer, about his classes, about his own roommate. He asks you a lot of questions in an attempt to let you contribute, and you answer them, but you mostly prefer to listen. Soobin’s funny, and he’s a great storyteller. You’d much rather let him do the talking.

Whenever you get home from spending time with him, Yeonjun’s always locked away in his room. He comes out for dinner, and you talk normally, but when you tell him you spent some time with Soobin, he adopts that weirdly quiet persona until you change the subject. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he wants you to be best friends with Soobin all of a sudden when he clearly doesn’t like him. But you figure it’s not worth asking. Not if it means he’ll be quiet and weird around you all the time. It’s been hard enough losing the touchy, almost boyfriend-like side of Yeonjun. You can’t lose the part of him that’s your best friend, too. 

So you stay quiet. And you have movie nights with Yeonjun and study with him and go to all the playoff games, even the away ones. And even though it’s not quite the same and it feels like something’s missing, you’re still grateful. Grateful to have gotten so lucky as to know him at all, to have him in your life in any way. Guys like Yeonjun should be famous soccer players, models, artists. But yet, somehow, he’s living on the Earth at the same time you are, in the same place you are, and he likes you enough to keep you around, and that is more than enough for you. 

Because you love him, you realize. You love Yeonjun, and you’ll take him however he’s given to you.

-

You’re panicking. Just a little bit. 

The soccer team made it to semifinals. Which means that the season isn’t over yet. But that’s not why you’re panicking.

You’re panicking because, to celebrate, the team is going to a fairly fancy restaurant in the city closest to campus. Which is fine, great, but every member of the team gets to bring a plus one. 

Yeonjun has invited you. Despite all the weirdness, he wants you to go with him. With his entire team and probably all of their significant others. 

It’s an hour before the reservation; you’re just getting ready, you’re not even there yet, and you already feel like a fish out of water. 

According to Yeonjun, only the eleven guys on the field were invited, and two of them can’t make it. And you know Yeonjun and Soobin will be there. But still. Dinner with fifteen other people you don’t know is intimidating. You don’t wanna embarrass yourself, of course, but you also desperately don’t wanna embarrass Yeonjun. You know he probably wouldn’t care even if you did do something weird, that he likes you more than all of his teammates, but still. You want to be cool for him. For one night.

You keep this in mind as you pull out a skirt and blouse, thanking your lucky stars that you brought them to campus with you even though you thought you probably wouldn’t ever wear them. You know this isn’t a date with Yeonjun and you can’t delude yourself into playing dress up and pretending to be his girlfriend, but you do want to look nice. You want Yeonjun to think you look nice.

Fuck, why does this feel so juvenile?

You get yourself ready to the best of your ability, trying not to go too far beyond what you ordinarily do, and step out of your bedroom hesitantly. Yeonjun’s bedroom door is still closed, so you assume he’s still getting ready. 

Your brain supplies you with the mental image of Yeonjun’s bare torso, arms flexing as he stretches to put on his shirt. This does not help quell your fried nerves. 

You fiddle with your phone and take a stiff seat on the couch to pass the aching seconds. You would do anything for Yeonjun, but you’re really dreading this. Most of the people you’ve met from school have been friendly, and on the rare occasion where Yeonjun does talk about his other teammates, he only ever has good things to say. But you feel like you’re representing Yeonjun and that scares you. You just don’t want to mess things up for him. You don’t want to be the subject of whispered locker room talk — Hey, remember that chick Choi brought to dinner last week? Definitely not someone I’d hang around. She just sat there and kept awkwardly laughing. It was annoying me all night. You feel crazy for already piecing together a future where everyone hates you, but you also feel like it’s the only possible outcome. 

You know this feeling. This isn’t nervousness about going out with Yeonjun anymore. This is familiar. This is what’s held you back your whole life. This is anxiety.

Fuck. Okay, you really do not want to fuck this up. Yeonjun takes a long time to get ready, you have some time, you tell yourself firmly. Calm the fuck down. 

You rise from the couch and make your way to the kitchen, pulling a cup from the cabinet and shoving it under the tap. You don’t have time to wait for filtered water. You down the whole glass and count in your head as you breathe, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You remind yourself that it’s not true. You remind yourself that Yeonjun will be with you no matter what, he told you that himself, and he would never let that happen. You remind yourself that you are capable of doing this and no one hates you.

You breathe some more.

It takes a few minutes, but you calm down. You separate yourself from everything for a second, you relax, and you feel okay again. Thankfully. You exhale extra long again, this time in relief.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You jump a little, head snapping back up and eyes flying to Yeonjun.

… Yeonjun.

It’s not anything crazy. A crisp, forest green button down and black slacks. But fuck, his hair is pushed up off his forehead like some kind of supermodel and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. You’ve never been the type to drool over exposed forearms, but things change, you guess, because you could honestly start salivating.

You want to call the whole thing off and pull him into your bed and never leave. 

Instead, you remember where you are. “Yes,” you answer his question, “I was just thirsty.”

And. Yeah, that’s not a lie.

He smiles, just a small one. “I like your skirt. Are you ready to go?”

You place your cup in the sink gently, like it’ll break if you squeeze it too hard. “Yep,” you confirm, before you can start to get nervous again. 

His smile grows, and he fishes his keys from his pocket with one hand and holds the other out to you. 

You take his hand gratefully, squeezing it once it’s in your grasp. He squeezes back immediately, and you know everything is going to be okay. 

You talk quietly as you take the elevator down, almost shyly, kind of how you did when you first started talking when he sent you that first hesitant Instagram DM. The teasing undertones of your current, familiar relationship are still there (“You’ll help me with names, right?” “Nope, I’m quizzing you once in the car and then you’re on your own”), but hidden under a layer of timidity. You’re just happy to be holding his hand again, even if just for a few minutes. The return to normalcy comforts you more than Yeonjun could probably ever imagine. 

You let go when you get to his car, but it’s okay. If he held you and drove with one hand, it would feel too much like a date and you’d get all weird and jittery. And he’d look so hot driving like that with those stupid rolled up sleeves you might ask him to turn around.

The car ride feels like the first true step back into normal Yeonjun-and-you friendship. He gives you the aux and you play Travis Scott for him and he raps along dorkily and you throw in an echo of his words every once in a while because it’s fun to hype him up when he’s excited. You play bad remixes and you both laugh as you hear the various ways to butcher a good song. Halfway there, Yeonjun turns to you at a red light and tells you with bright eyes, “This is fun already, I think we need to get out more.”

You nod and put on the next song. Because it is fun. 

When you arrive, Yeonjun parks smoothly and looks over to you, cocking an eyebrow. Accusing. 

“What?” you sputter. 

“Why are you so nervous?” he asks sincerely. Damn his ability to read you so well. 

You blow out a breath and try to shrug it off. “‘S just a lot of people, that’s all. I don’t know any of your inside jokes.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes. “It’s okay, tough guy. You can just tell me. I know you don’t like hanging out with a ton of new people.”

“I never said that,” you mumble. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” he shoots back, and you relent. “I didn’t ask you to come to overwhelm you and I don’t want you to have a shitty time.” He cranes his neck to meet your downward gaze. “I invited you because you’re my person and I want everyone else to see how cool you are. So don’t worry about not knowing the inside jokes. I’m not in on them, either. I’m your best friend, not theirs. That’s how the night’s starting, and that’s how it’s gonna end. Okay?”

You feel prickling at your tear ducts and in your chest. You think he just made flowers bloom in your heart. Fucking Yeonjun, who somehow always knows what to say to make you feel better. Who always saves the day. Fucking Yeonjun who you love so, so, so much. 

“Okay. I’m ready now.”

And you really are. You can hardly believe it. 

He doesn’t offer his hand again when you two make your way to the front entrance, but you’re thankful. You don’t wanna be Yeonjun’s fake girlfriend right now. You’d rather be his real best friend. 

He’s telling you about how good the food is supposed to be and how excited he is to eat when the two of you spot some people waiting outside. You pull your coat tighter around you and squint. 

“Oh, nice,” Yeonjun says happily. “Hey, Soobin!”

Soobin and the other figures that are gradually coming into focus turn to face you. The two girls and three other guys standing with him smile politely, but Soobin breaks out into a grin. “Oh, hey!”

He hugs both you and Yeonjun when you get to him, and Yeonjun exchanges a dorky little handshake with two of the other guys, his teammates. Soobin introduces you and rattles off everyone’s names, but you only catch one, because it’s one you’ve heard before. 

“Oh, you’re Haknyeon!” You say to Soobin’s smiling roommate. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You expect a handshake, but Haknyeon is apparently as much of a hugger as Soobin is, because he pulls you into a quick but warm embrace. “You, too,” he says, and he really does sound happy to meet you, “I never knew who Soobin was ditching me at lunch for!”

You giggle, you can’t help it. You’re already so relieved and you’ve only met a few people. “Sorry about that,” you manage.

“We figured we’d wait for everyone and head in together,” one of Yeonjun’s teammates says to him as you tune in to their conversation. 

Yeonjun nods, oddly almost stoic. “Sounds good. Are Hyunjin and Seungmin still not coming?”

The guy shakes his head. You should really make an attempt with these names. 

The conversation stills for a beat before one of the other girls pipes up and asks Soobin what his major is. You’re surprised that Soobin seems to be the social butterfly of the team, but you guess you should’ve expected it. After all, he did manage to befriend you, the final boss of wallflowers.

Soobin launches into his major and the state of the liberal arts program at your university and starts talking about specific classes he has to take. “Don’t even get me started on the Intro to Psychology bullshit. Sigmund Freud is a fraud and I shouldn’t have to pay to learn about his studies to graduate.” He looks at you. “The only bearable class I’ve had all semester is linguistics, but that’s only because I have help in the form of the best student in the class.”

Everyone can tell by the pointed glare that he’s calling you out, and it makes you blush. “I am not the best student, Soobin. And you helped me too, don’t twist it around.”

Soobin grins and nudges you. “I think combined, we’re the best student in class. Like we have to fuse together like the Power Rangers and then we're the ultimate linguistics student.”

You laugh, because he’s right, and everyone else chuckles, too. Even Yeonjun.

Everyone keeps making conversation as the rest of the team and their plus ones arrive. You’re a little frazzled by the sheer number of names and faces, but you start to get the ones you keep hearing; Hyunjoon is the one with the fierce eyes, Renjun is the one with the cute smile, Chaewon is the one with the really soft voice. All of the players seem like really nice guys as far as you can tell -- definitely no overdone asshole jock archetypes -- and the plus ones all seem just as hesitant as you are. Once everyone’s together, you all head inside, all trying to be reserved because the place is packed and there are so many of you. 

You take your seat quietly, sandwiched between Yeonjun and another plus one who you’re 70% sure is named Jiwoo with Soobin directly across from you. There are a lot of conversations happening at once rather than one big discussion, so you turn to Yeonjun, who’s already looking at you.

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Is this okay? You’re doing alright?”

You appreciate him checking up on you, but you really are okay. You’re not overwhelmed, you don’t feel the sickening swell of anxiety bubbling up inside you, you don’t even feel left out at all. “I’m totally fine,” you assure him with a smile, pleased that the night is going so well.

He seems to feel the same way, because he slips his hand under the table to reach yours, interlacing your fingers wordlessly. His free hand sneaks over to snatch your iced tea, stealing a sip. You can’t even find it in you to pretend to be mad, you just laugh and scrunch up your nose. 

You talk a bit with Jiwoo (you were right, that is her name) who is super nice, she’s active in some clubs and gives you a run-down of which ones to avoid and which ones you should join, which you appreciate. She tells you not to worry about not knowing anyone, because she’ll be there, and you can’t believe how easy it’s been to make friends ever since you started college. You and Yeonjun are in your own little world a lot, too, just the two of you talking quietly or exchanging glances and exaggerated expressions. He also takes a lot of time to talk to the other player seated beside him, and you listen to the two of them talk while throwing in a comment every once in a while. It’s Renjun, the cute, shorter defender, and he’s really sweet to Yeonjun. You’re shocked at how reserved he is around his team -- your hyper, crazy Jjuni is so quiet and self-contained with these guys. Most of the dinner, though, you just tune in to whatever Soobin’s saying; you’re used to listening to him go on and on, and he seems to know everyone and be comfortable enough to start banter. When everyone’s food comes, Yeonjun lets go of your hand and a hush settles over the table as everyone enjoys. You watch Yeonjun as he takes his first bite, eager to see his reaction since he was so excited to eat. His eyes roll back dramatically as soon as the food hits his tongue, and it makes you laugh, but it also makes you a little sentimental, because he just looks so happy. 

People always say that college is the best four years of your life. You’re so happy you get to spend those years with Yeonjun. You can only hope that he’ll stick with you after it ends.

Everyone seems to enjoy their meal, and you all decide to stick around for coffee and more chit chat like mini adults. You’re having fun, you don’t wanna leave yet. You’re feeling more comfortable now, since it’s been over an hour since you met everyone and contribute a lot more to the conversations. At one point, Soobin and Haknyeon start bickering, and though it’s playful, you can’t help but imagine what them living together is like. “Your dorm must be fun,” you poke at them, and Soobin huffs

“Oh, this is just a taste,” Haknyeon bites, but he’s grinning. “He’s my best friend, but he’s insufferable to live with sometimes.”

“Why’d you come with me, then?” Soobin retaliates, stealing the slice of bread Haknyeon still had on his napkin.

“Why’d you invite me, then?” Haknyeon fires back, which gets a laugh out of everyone.

Soobin squints and turns his gaze to you. “Well, for your information, I was going to invite Y/N, but Yeonjun beat me to it, so you were actually my second choice, Ju.”

And … yep. That’s exactly what you were afraid might happen.

You know he just said it for the sake of the jab, it might not even be true, but no matter how much truth there is to it, Soobin already said it, and Yeonjun is already stiffening beside you.

You need damage control. Now. “Well,” you fake-laugh as convincingly as possible and shrug. “Roommate privileges, I guess.”

Soobin smiles, and you almost sigh in relief. “Fair, that’s fair.”

You turn to Yeonjun, hoping he’s relaxed a little, and find his eyes glued to the table. He’s sitting taut, like there’s a string attached to the ceiling holding him up perfectly straight. His hands are clasped together in his lap. Off limits.

Fuck. Not a good sign.

You tune out of the rest of the conversation and gently place your hand on his arm to get his attention. He flinches away from your touch, but meets your eyes. You can usually tell how he’s feeling by looking into them, he’s always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At least with you. But now, they’re blank. You can’t see anything there.

“Are you alright, Jjuni?” You ask quietly, alarmed to say the least by his sudden change. 

He just looks at you, unblinking. “Are you ready to go?”

You’re not, not really, but the rigidity of his voice tells you that he is. “Yes.”

He picks up the check for the two of you and rises, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna get going,” he says, almost sounding normal, “I know Y/N wanted to study tonight, so we’re gonna head out.”

Soobin squints at you. He knows you don’t have any exams to study for. You told him yourself you’d be there for the whole evening.

You smile at him in a way that you hope looks apologetic. “It was great meeting you all.”

The car ride home is a complete one-eighty from the car ride there, and you want to cry because of how wrong this is. Everything was great, the two of you were acting normal again, Yeonjun was having fun … what went wrong? What set him off? Was Soobin on his nerves the whole time and he finally snapped? Or was it what he said? But why would Yeonjun be upset about Soobin asking you to be his plus one when he’s been pushing the two of you together for weeks? And it’s not even a date, it’s a team dinner. Yeonjun didn’t bring you as a date. What right does he have to be upset with you over something that didn’t even happen? Why does this keep happening? Why can’t things just be easy between the two of you? You really don’t want to pry into Yeonjun’s feelings, but you need to know what the fuck is going on.

“Was the food as good as you were hoping?” you ask, hoping to at least shake him out of his reverie.

He nods, but keeps his eyes on the road.

You turn to the window and let one tear fall. Just one little pity tear to feel bad for yourself and this weird, half-there version of Yeonjun that you really don’t like. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice.

When you get home, Yeonjun tries his best to dart into his room, but you grab his arm. 

“Y/N, please,” he gripes, “I just wanna get changed.”

Any other time, you would let him, but you’re at your wits’ end and you have a funny feeling that if he goes into his room now, he’s not resurfacing until tomorrow. “Yeonjun, this is important. Come on. Something is clearly wrong. Talk to me?”

He looks at you, exhausted, like you’re sucking all of the energy out of him. “I’m tired. That’s all, okay?”

He tries to slip out of your grasp, but you step in front of him. You can’t let him escape this time. It feels like a turning point. “Stop lying. You were fine until Soobin said that. Please, please talk to me. I want to help you.”

He narrows his eyes at you, and it freaks you out, because you’ve never seen Yeonjun like this. Not ever. Not even when the team lost a game. “Just because you think you know something doesn’t mean it’s true. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to go to sleep right now.”

You bite your lip. You really don’t wanna make this about you when it’s about him, but it’s hard. It’s hard to have him be so cold to you. “Yeonjun, I’m begging. Please talk to me. If Soobin bothers you that much, I won’t hang out with him anymore, okay? I don’t want you to be like this. I don’t want to upset you. I’ll do whatever I have to do, I promise.”

His eyes fall shut. He purses his lips. “It would be ridiculous for you to stop being friends with someone because of me. That’s manipulative. I’m not asking that of you.” When he opens his eyes, they’re not blank anymore. Yeonjun is angry.

But you can’t back down. You try your best to keep your composure. “I know you’re not, but he obviously makes you upset. I don’t wanna be around someone who makes you like this. You’re my best friend. You come first, okay?”

His stare turns icy, and you see his jaw clench. “Clearly, there’s nothing we need to talk about. This is going nowhere. Can you please just leave me alone?”

He won’t stop lying. So much for composure. If he’s gonna be upset about something, you might as well say what’s been on your chest for weeks.

Your hands clench into fists at your sides. “I guess I just don’t understand what you want from me, Yeonjun. You say you want me to make friends, but you get all weird and quiet and pissy when I’m with Soobin who is, at most, an acquaintance, and is just a guy I do work with for the one class I don’t have with you. I do everything else with you, even though you push me away! And it drives me crazy because I already feel like I rely far too much on you and I don't want my life to revolve around you and cling too hard and make you feel weird but I don’t wanna lose you and I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to depend on you, and I don’t want to need you, but the way things are now … I just …” you struggle to find the words. “What the fuck is with the mixed messages? What do you want from me?”

He looks taken aback. He wasn’t expecting you to be so honest. “I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is raised, but it still doesn’t feel like he’s yelling at you. “I can’t handle not knowing anymore. I mean, roommate privileges, are you kidding me? Is that all I am to you, just your stupid roommate? What’s going on in your head?”

You feel your shoulders rise as you tense, the lines in your forehead deepening as you furrow your brows. “How could you ever, ever think that you are just a roommate to me?” you yell, actually yell. 

He stares at you, unmoving.

You’re much quieter now. “Do you even listen to me when I talk about you? I feel like I’ve made it pretty obvious.”

He still doesn’t say anything, but his head tilts to the side in silent questioning.

You huff and roll your eyes at the fact that you’re saying this at all. “Soobin is nothing but a friend to me, Yeonjun. You are so much more than he could ever be. ” You look at him with all your walls down. Vulnerable. “Every 11:11, every eyelash, every shooting star I wish on is for you. And I feel silly for even thinking things like this because sometimes you feel so far away and even though I’m telling you this I fear that you won’t really understand and everything about it seems impossible but I always act by my heart and not my brain when it comes to you and that’s why we’re here.” You want to stop, you can feel yourself beginning to cry, but you force yourself to keep going. This might be your last chance to say it all. “Don’t you get it? It’s been you since eighth grade. It’s never not been you.” You sniffle. “And even if you decide you want nothing to do with me, that’s fine. I just want you to be so happy and successful. That’s all.” You meet his eyes as you feel tears rolling down your cheeks. “You make endless things simple for me, and I love you for that.”

Yeonjun is so, so quiet.

You close your eyes and let your head fall as sobs wrack your body. This is every nightmare you’ve ever had come true. And now you’ve lost him for good. You couldn’t keep the one good thing you’ve ever had.

It feels like someone opened up your head and poured fire and water inside and you’re boiling over. The reality of life without Yeonjun hits you from a thousand different angles and you’ve had your fair share of suicidal moments before but you’ve never wanted to die as much as you do right now. You just want it to be over.

You feel something against your fingers and open your eyes.

Yeonjun takes your hand so tenderly. His touch is so soft that it doesn’t feel real. 

He pulls you close, holding you against his chest, his arms coming around you and keeping you there snugly. It makes you cry harder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, ashamed. You know this is a pity hug. A goodbye hug. “I ruined everything, I didn’t mean to. I-I’m so sorry, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun hushes you like you would an infant and brings one hand to the back of your head, petting your hair and keeping you close. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s all okay now. I’m not gonna let you go, okay? I promise.”

That’s … not what you thought he would say.

I’m sorry, I just don’t feel the same way, you were expecting, I like you as a friend, but I just don’t feel comfortable living with you if you feel that way, or maybe, I think it’s best we find different roommates. Not this. Never this.

“What?” You try to ask, but it comes out a whimper.

He hums. “You’re a silly goose. You didn’t ruin anything. Please don’t cry.”

You step out of his hug, still confused and almost uncomfortable. “I don’t understand.”

He’s looking at you like you’re a love letter sealed with a kiss. “I …” he trails off, like he’s trying to figure out the best way to say what you imagine is a rejection. 

“I love you, too.”

Time stops.

The world stops.

You stop.

This is a joke or a prank or a trick but it’s not real. There’s no way this is real. You decide not to even entertain the thought. “No, you don’t.”

Yeonjun smiles coyly. “How would you know that?”

You feel like you’re being played with, and it makes you angry. Like Soobin’s going to pop out from around the corner and scream ‘April fools!’ in your face even though it’s November and high five Yeonjun like it was his plan from the start and laugh in your face and ask, ‘Did you really think? Did you really think he could ever love you?’ “Stop it, Yeonjun.”

He steps close to you again. “I’m serious. Why do you think I get ‘weird and quiet and pissy’ when you’re with Soobin? I’ve had a thing for you since eighth grade. Everything I did in art club was to impress you. I wanted you to think I was cool and I wanted you to like me and I wanted you. But I was afraid to scare you off because you were so shy, and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. So I just hoped. And then one of the guys on the soccer team said that you committed to the same university I did, and I knew it was my chance. In the part of the dorm application where you could request a roommate, I put in your name.”

The world isn’t stopped anymore. It’s spinning so fast you think you might fly off.

“It’s because of me that we’re roommates at all. Y/N, you have to believe me. I gave you my jersey to wear to our games, for Christ’s sake, that’s basically telling everyone else on the team to back off, that’s what guys do for their girlfriends. And fuck, seeing you wear my number made me so happy. I thought you were interested in Soobin and it broke my heart so I tried to give you space but it made me so miserable to not be around you and I feel like such an idiot because I was just hurting us both and I’m sorry. Please. I’m telling you I love you so much. You’re my sun and moon and all my planets and every star. You are everything to me. Please.”

You don’t know what to think. You barely remember how to breathe.

At some point, his hands came up to your shoulders, and you bring your hands up to rest on his fingers. Yeonjun is looking at you so desperately that it sends a fissure down your heart.

All you can do is nod. You don’t understand how it can be true, because it always seemed so impossible. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not. And deep down, as much as this all might seem so unreal, you know that Yeonjun would never joke about this with you.

But there is one way just to be extra sure.

“Please kiss me,” you blurt in a murmur, voice strained

He stops as relief washes over his face, pausing like he can’t believe this is happening, and complies.

And god damn if Choi Yeonjun isn’t just as good at kissing as he is at everything else.

He whimpers as soon as he gets his lips on yours, one hand shifting to the back of your neck to hold you closer to him and the other sliding down to the small of your back. The slide of your mouths together makes you blush, but you can’t find it in you to be too embarrassed. He parts for a moment, pulling away slightly, but you chase him, giving him a kiss of your own. You’re so overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you that you don’t even have room in your brain to freak out. It’s like the part of you that’s been fantasizing about this for months has taken the wheel, and she’s calm and collected about it enough that you let her.

Yeonjun makes another small noise when you actually pull away, this time of disappointment. He rests his forehead against yours and takes a shaky breath. “I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time,” he breathes out.

“I love you,” is all you can say. You don’t know how you’re still a person and not just a pile of ashes at Yeonjun’s feet.

He pulls away just a little, still keeping you tight in his embrace. “Does this mean you’ll be mine, finally?” His voice is so, so tender as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Will you please be mine, princess?”

You look at this boy who you’ve loved whole-heartedly for what feels like your entire life. He stares back at you, eyebrows furrowed, like you could ever refuse such an offer. Like you could ever refuse him at all.

You decide to tell him the truth.

“Yeonjun,” you murmur, stealing another chaste press of your lips to his and loving the way he keeps you there. “I’ve been yours this whole time.”

And you can feel him very slowly smile into the kiss.

The stairs creak ever so slightly as you descent down them, praying you won’t trip in the darkness, but the floor and the walls are brighter than usual. Then, you notice the light coming from the kitchen and some shuffling, the crispiness of glass breaking underneath a heavy object.

“Fuck.” You hear someone mutter and take a peek into the room. It’s Yeonjun, still in yesterday’s clothes, hitting the plastic edge of the dustpan against the bin, emptying it out. You’re grateful you put on slippers - Yeonjun can’t sweep to save his life.

You watch him chuck the brush and the dustpan into the cupboard below the sink and close it with a slam, startling himself. You let out a giggle and he turns around, only spotting you now, leaning your hand against the wall.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He scratches the back of his neck and smiles at you sheepishly.

You shake your head. “You didn’t.” You walk up to the kitchen island and hop on the marble. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I have a test to study for. You too?”

“Something like that,” you answer, then thank him with a nod for the glass of water he slides your way. You watch him take a sip before staring off into space.

You’ve always found Yeonjun attractive, ever since the first day of university when he helped you carry your things into your room, his hair a dark brown colour. A month later, it was silver, and before Easter, a navy blue. Now, he’s sporting a platinum blond colour, but it doesn’t really matter if he has the rainbow on his head or if he’s completely bald - his visuals are out of this world either way.

Your drop your gaze before he has a chance to catch you staring, and play with the strings on your pyjama shorts. You wrap them around your finger, then release, over and over until Yeonjun coughs and you will yourself to look up at him. He gives you a smile you can’t help but reciprocate; he has that effect on you sometimes.

“Hey, put on some shoes. I’m gonna take you somewhere,” he tells you, dropping the glass into the sink rather harshly and running to get his coat and shoes on.

“What?” You’re perplexed but don’t have time to protest, for Yeonjun is nowhere around to hear it. With a sigh, you hop off the kitchen island and do as you’re told, debating whether you should put on some pants but disregarding the idea when Yeonjun’s bright smile meets your expression, and all you can think is how much you want to make him smile like that again.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your hand, grabs his keys, and locks the door of your shared apartment behind him.

The air outside is still, and again, you can hear everything. You can feel everything. The city is asleep, but everything is so alive as you’re trudging through the small streets of your equally small town, side by side.

“I thought you had a test to study for,” you finally say.

Yeonjun releases a ghost of a laugh. It’s warm, like the air around you. “It’s only ten minutes from our house. I promise you’ll like it. Maybe it’ll help you sleep better.”

You nod, though he can’t see you because he’s looking from left to right to cross the street, grabbing your hand and making you follow him as he crosses the road. You don’t know why he looked both ways, or why he wants you to be safe - the city’s sleeping, much like you should be. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.

“Here.”

“Where is here?”

You look around, and all you see are rows of houses, lined up like dominoes. You’re standing in front of a tall gate, the blue paint old and chipping away with every harsh wind and icy winter, and it’s not long, you think, before it falls apart.

“Come on.” You watch as he climbs up the fence, the swaying of the metal making your heart skip a beat as it moves one with his body, and then he jumps off at the other end, leaving you amazed at his agility.

“I’ll catch you if you need me to.”

He motions for you to do the same, and though with hesitation, you grip the metal, surprised by its warmth, and follow his actions. He doesn’t catch you when you jump off to join him; he doesn’t have to, for you do so with ease, but you want him to. Maybe you just want an excuse for him to hold you.

You follow him up some creaky stairs, ending up on a roof of an abandoned warehouse. It’s almost entirely flat, aside from the raised edges preventing your fall, and a gradual slope in the middle, its top flat as well. It’s big enough to room one, perhaps two people.

Yeonjun’s quick to hop on the top, his long legs helping him up the slope. It’s a bizzare structure for a roof, but perhaps that’s why Yeonjun likes it so much; he can sit here and watch every sunset and sunrise, colours seeping into each other like on an abstract painting.

You don’t follow right away, opting to lean back and watch the city, but he reaches out with his leg and nudges you with it, forcing you to go up and join him. He holds your hand until you’re safely next to him, and you’re quick to jerk it away, afraid he’ll notice the sweat coating your palm. It’s his fault for making you so nervous.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He grabs your attention with his words and you nod in agreement. “You should come up here at sunset. It’s even better.”

Again, you nod and stare forward. The city shines, mimicking the stars in the sky, and it’s funny how the first thing you think of is light pollution.

You like the town the way it is; small, quiet, homely, but your heart races thinking of the wildness you could experience just the next town over, a city of life and bright lights, where the night never ends, and the sun never comes up.

Yeonjun coughs again and you wonder if he has a cold, looking at him quizzically.

“So...” He gives you a smile.

“So...” you repeat, furrowing your brows. Why is he acting so weird? “Don’t you have an exam to study for? What are we actually doing here, Yeonjun?”

“Yeah, about that...” He scratches the back of his neck, letting his legs hang over the edge, bringing his hands together. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“We’re talking.”

Your reply makes a frown appear on his face but you laugh it off, and so does he, only after a pause.

“Go on then.”

You look ahead, closing your eyes as you enjoy the gentle breeze of summer on your skin. This is what content feels like. The hot and humid weather gets to you sometimes but you love summer nights; there’s something in them that brings you back to when you were ten, careless and free, like the wind that blows in all four directions without caring what or who it stumbles upon, unable to be controlled.

Suddenly, you feel extra warmth on the skin of your left hand and look to Yeonjun’s hand holding yours. Before you have time to question the action, he speaks up.

“Listen, I-I like you. I’ve honestly liked you since I met you; you were so cute struggling with all those boxes, and then I told you should have taken a suitcase instead, like the others. You remember what you said? That you’re not like the others-”

“-that apparently I’m stupider. Yeah.” You laugh, recalling the memory. Really, you procrastinated buying a suitcase large enough to fit all your years of unhealthy hoarding, and forgot your family were taking theirs on vacation, and you couldn’t be late for your first day at university, now, could you?

“Yeah.” He sighs. “And I was so glad I decided to live on campus. And then Yeri found out about my crush and told me to confess, and I swear I was so ready until your crush on Hyunjae came out and-”

“Ugh.” You make a face and Yeonjun burst out laughing. “Don’t remind me. How could I ever have a crush on someone so self-absorbed?”

“Beats me.” His words make you laugh. After a pause, and much debating inside his head, he speaks up again, “Summer came and I thought I could let go of this crush, but we both just had to decide to come back for the summer.”

He turns you towards him, and you don’t have it in you to push away as he grabs both your hands into his, holding them in front of his chest. “I never let go of you. And I don’t really want to. Maybe I’m crazy, and this will never work out, not in a million years. But I’m also the guy who ignores all the signs of balding, like the clumps of hair after I shower, and continues dying his here like my life depends on it, and I’m still going to ask you to be my girlfriend.”

“Woah there,” you vomit out the words, an action fueled by your twisting stomach, the butterflies’ wings tangled up, unable to escape. “Shouldn’t you ask me on a date first?”

Yeonjun furrows his brows, tilting his head to the side. “Would you say yes?”

You shrug in response, teasing the boy. “I don’t know. If you make it worth my time.”

“You little-” He lunges at you, his hands slipping underneath your jumper, fingers dancing on your skin. The tickling causes your body to jerk backwards, yelling for the heavens to hear, until you’re almost falling off the edge and let out a shriek.

Yeonjun has quick reflexes, though, and catches you, holding you so close to him you feel the rise and fall of his chest. He looks from your eyes to your lips, to his hands holding your shoulders.

“Don’t tell me you planned this,” you breathe out, mixing your breath with his in the stillness of the air.

He shrugs in response, and you expect a small smile on his face, but there’s nothing, not even a trace; his expression is unreadable.

You sigh, detaching yourself from him, then shifting so it’s comfortable for you to lay your head on his chest. You feel his heartbeat - erratic and uneven - as it’s thumping against your ear, and your hands clutch his shirt. His are holding you close like you’re still slipping over the edge, and his lips sigh against your hair.

“We should probably go,” you mumble, “before the sun rises and everyone notices we’re missing.”

“Let them notice. I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”