#writekpop

You watch him from the side of the stage, eyes trailing over every lift of his shirt with arousal pooling in your gut. There’s some sort of primal desire in you that makes you want to pull him against you, fingers looped around the chains. The thought of him wearing nothing but that damn chain keeps floating to the forefront of your mind, and by the time Seonghwa’s performance concludes, you are pressing your thighs together so hard that it burns. He slips offstage, joining you with a heaving chest and sweat dripping from his forehead to his chin.

You need a cold drink. 

Or his dick. Definitely his dick. 

“What’s that face for?” Seonghwa teases, nudging you in the side with his elbow. You gasp at the sudden touch and blink furiously at your boyfriend as you try to push the thoughts from your mind. 

“U-Uh, nothing. You did – you guys did great on stage!” You stammer, trying to recover from your sudden lapse of sanity. Seonghwa throws his head back, and his lips part in a silent laugh, but your mind can only associate that expression with the way his face contorts when he cums. You bite down so hard on your tongue that you taste blood. Seonghwa slips a hand into yours, and you let him tug you along behind the rest of the boys. That dangling jewelry is just out of reach, but if you just moved your hand up his side, you could touch it. 

You can’t take it anymore. You’ll be thinking about this for the rest of your life if you don’t do something about it, and right now, the only thing you can think of doing is Seonghwa. Tugging your hand out of his grasp, you press closer to him and stand on your tiptoes to murmur into his ear.

“I need you to fuck me right now, Hwa.”

Seonghwa’s steps falter, and he nearly stumbles as he processes what you’ve just whispered in his ear. His eyes are wide when he brings them down to look at you, but the heady lust in your tone has affected him nonetheless. Behind the confusion, there is desire. He doesn’t say a word in response. Fingers latch onto your wrist, and Seonghwa pulls you away from the rest of the group as he starts to lead you down the hall. No one notices, but a few staff members eye Seonghwa’s hasty movements and focused features. You let him tug you away from the crowds. You’re eager to finally get your hands on him, to toy with that jewelry around his skin, and to wrap your fingers around the metal as he fucks into you. 

Seonghwa tugs you into a random room – a bathroom, it seems – and flips the lock as soon as you’re both inside. You push him against the door before he has a chance to do anything else, hands rushing to grab at his shirt. You tug the material up just enough to expose the object of your desires. As soon as it’s exposed to you, a small whimper escapes you without warning. Seonghwa arches a brow as he hears the sound.

“Oh? Is that what got you all worked up?” He teases, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. 

“S-Shut up,” you stutter. Your fingers trail over the chain hanging around his slim waist. Seonghwa flips you around so that you now have your back to the door, and his hands come down to rest on either side of your head. His hips roll against yours, the prominent bulge in his pants rubbing against your core. Another moan slips out. You throw your head back at the sensation and buck your hips against his in attempts to feel it again. Seonghwa lets you repeat the motion, a laugh on his lips as he watches you.

“That’s not very nice, baby girl,” he hisses, leaning close to cover your ear with hot lips. Those lips dip further down your jawline and neck until he reaches the base of your neck. He nips gently at the skin and pulls it between his teeth. You whine at the tingling sensation that overtakes your body. His teeth graze over your skin, nipping and tugging. He only stops to suck at the blank canvas a few times, and you know that he’s leaving dark marks on your neck without ever seeing them. “I’m giving you what you asked for, and this is how you thank me? Telling me to shut up?”

Seonghwa’s fingers slip between your legs and push them open with little effort. You help him a bit, rushing to tug your skirt up over your ass. He chuckles at your hurried movements. Two fingers trace over the wet spot on your underwear. The faint touch causes goosebumps to rise over your skin, shivers of pleasure coursing through you and landing at your core. A breathy moan hits the air between you and Seonghwa. He dips in to close the distance between your lips. You greet him with your tongue, humming against his mouth when he pushes the cloth of your underwear to the side.

Your folds are already slick with arousal, and Seonghwa pushes one finger into you without any trouble. You trace your fingers down his waist again. Your touch lingers on the chain for a bit, and you take time to just toy with the metal and twist it around your fingers. Seonghwa slips a second finger in your heat not long after though, and you bring your hands down to the button of his pants. His erection presses against the front of his pants, desperate to have some relief, and you provide it soon enough. 

“F-Fuck,” Seonghwa exhales into your mouth as you slip a hand down his underwear and take his hard member in your hand. “Skip the foreplay, I need you now.” The words are spoken with a growl that has your eyes nearly rolling back in your head. He pushes your hands out of the way and slips his fingers out of your core. You brace yourself on his shoulders, slinging your legs around his hips, and he rubs your juices over his thick member with quick jerks. 

“Fuck me nice and hard, baby,” you coo. You accentuate the words by dragging your tongue over the sensitive shell of his ear. Seonghwa lets out a deep groan then rushes to press his cock against your entrance. As he lines up with your core, you bring your hands down from his shoulders to cling to the pretty chain that started this all. You tug it up on his waist some so that you can curl your fingers around the jewelry. Perhaps if you had more time and weren’t in such a public place, you would suck marks over the skin under that chain and see pretty bruises blossom across his waist.

Now, however, you settle for the way Seonghwa pushes into your tight heat with a shaky moan that changes pitch halfway through. 

“You’re so tight, princess,” he moans, forehead falling against yours. His eyes stare directly at the place where your bodies meet, and he watches the way your pussy clenches around his member with hunger. “All mine.” He pulls his hips back only to snap them forward a moment later. The pressure of his cock brings a loud moan out of you, walls fluttering around him.

“All yours,” you whisper back. 

Seonghwa’s thrusts speed up at that. His hands come to rest on your hips as he fucks you with more passion. Each drag of his member elicits soft gasps and whines from you, and he doesn’t even bother trying to keep you quiet as he focuses on finding your sweet spot. You cling to the chain around his waist like a vice, the small beads burning your skin as it tugs against your fingers. Seonghwa shifts the angle of his thrusts, and all of a sudden you’re seeing stars. He pounds into you, dragging over your g-spot as he moves in and out of you. 

“Fuck, fu-uck, yes. Yes, S-Seonghwa, oh shit.” You can’t keep track of any of the words tumbling from your lips; the pleasure is hitting too hard for you to focus on anything other than Seonghwa.

“Do I make you feel good, baby? Fill you up nicely, huh?”

“Y-Yes, yes, yes. Oh fuck yes, Hwa, I’m gonna–” Words fail you, and you’re body almost convulses as a particularly strong wave of pleasure hits you. Seonghwa maintains his brutal pace, soft grunts falling from his lips as he mutters his response.

“Cum with me, princess. Cum around my cock like the good girl you are.” Seonghwa’s soft-spoken commands spur you to your finish, and your walls clench tight around his cock as you cum with a loud moan. Seonghwa keeps thrusting into you, fucking you through the orgasm until his hips start to stutter. Before he has a chance to pull out, you tighten your grip on his waist chain and hiss a plea through your teeth.

“Cum in me. Please.” Seonghwa shakes as his orgasm hits. Warmth blossoms in your core, and he spills into your heat. You cling to his body, watching him ride through the orgasm and release a prolonged moan. The expression on his face is so raw and beautiful, and you drink in the sight of it for as long as it lasts.

“I hope you know that I’m making you keep my cum in you until we get back to the dorms,” Seonghwa murmurs once he comes down from his high. Your lips twist into a grin.

“Is that a challenge, Park Seonghwa?”

“Do it, and I’ll ask the stylists if I can keep the waist chain.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time. 

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them. 

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though. 

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted. 

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too. 

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them. 

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

 “Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food. 

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up. 

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.” 

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’  narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow. 

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.” 

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding. 

“Really.” 

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t. 

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil. 

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.” 

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him. 

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

*

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm. 

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’ 

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far. 

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses. 

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-” 

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years. 

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.” 

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity. 

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

*

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa. 

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay. 

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’ 

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

*

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class. 

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing. 

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it. 

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy. 

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things. 

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation. 

‘This feels lonely.’ 

In a way, you suppose that it is. 

*

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely. 

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra. 

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside. 

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled. 

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year. 

*

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards. 

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings. 

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.” 

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange. 

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well. 

“We’re taking a detour.” 

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers. 

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon. 

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing. 

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing. 

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi. 

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete. 

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.” 

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph. 

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it. 

*

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him. 

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths.  Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

*

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle. 

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this? 

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now. 

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

*

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while. 

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises. 

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile. 

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon. 

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

*

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment. 

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell  them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

*

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard. 

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee? 

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear. 

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

*

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest. 

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it. 

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling. 

“Mingi I-“ 

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed. 

“Mingi that's not what-“ 

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever. 

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

* 

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there. 

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. 

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are. 

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words. 

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you. 

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.” 

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

*

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least. 

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees. 

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump. 

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You  breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around. 

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go. 

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over. 

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well. 

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with. 

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute. 

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi. 

*

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback. 

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly. 

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun. 

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to. 

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop. 

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

*

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.” 

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’ 

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out. 

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead. 

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore. 

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand. 

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?” 

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

*

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t. 

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

*

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.” 

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re  questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied. 

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide. 

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows. 

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room. 

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you. 

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’ 

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

*

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth. 

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car. 

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.” 

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.” 

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either. 

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.  

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

*

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does. 

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand. 

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again. 

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

"I told Professor Yun to give us at least a month and a half to organize everything properly but that man just plain refuses to listen to me because I bunked his class once !" Mark Lee has a big mouth ,that's public knowledge, but when he continues to pace inside the empty auditorium, you find yourself getting irritated at his non- stop comments .

"Has anyone else tried to talk to Yun about the extension of the date ? Someone who doesn't bunk his classes? " Lia asks, her arms crossed in front of her chest. You have seen your roommate look serious before but right now she looks almost as if she's about to go on a killing spree.

"Didn't y/n go to him yesterday? I remember seeing her near the staff room with him. " Johnny points out and suddenly all eyes are on you.

Your cheeks flush at the mention of your name from his mouth. //

The tense atmosphere in the auditorium was already making you uncomfortable enough but now , with the unwanted spotlight on you , you feel as if your body has been squeezed into a car's trunk.

"Umm.." you stutter,playing with hem of your oversized Linkin Park t-shirt, "yes. I did talk to him but he said no to me too. He didn't even let me explain our situation."

Mark groans loudly, his head between his hands. "We are so doomed. The authorities are going to remove me from the position of the president of the student body! I can feel it coming."

"I don't know about anyone else but I enjoy my position as the vice president of the student body council. And I am not going to give it up because you shitheads were too lazy to get things done quickly." Ryujin says , her eyes flaming with fury.

She's been running after all the student body members to start working on the upcoming inter college sport events for a whole week now . It's not her fault that the other members are starting to realize the urgency of the situation just two weeks prior to the event.( including the president, Mark Lee). She has the right to be angry.

"Okay ,everyone calm down. " You say, reluctantly,not wanting to be the centre of attention. You lick your dry lips before beginning to speak again, "We've wasted enough time worrying and talking okay? Let's go over the list of duties assigned and we can resume working again. "

"We just have two weeks, y/n. There's still so much left to do. We've barely started yet. " Ryujin whines, placing her head on Jungwoo's shoulder as he tries to shake her off.

"I know but if we work hard for say even ten days,we can get things done. We can stay back after college gets over and work and then rest on weekends. Exams are not arriving anytime soon either. "

"I agree with y/n. The event is next to next Monday so if we do overtime then we can still pull it off,despite everything." Johnny agrees , looking over at you with a charming smile. But instead of returning the smile, you look away ,cheeks tinted red.

Have you always been this nervous around him or does it have something to do with the sudden glow up he has had over the summer break? You don't know.

"Fine. Okay." Mark speaks out, "Jungwoo, can you go over the duties once again? And if possible take a picture of it and send it on our group chat. "

Nodding to Mark, Jungwoo takes out a sheet of paper from his pocket and starts reading it out. "So um... Mark and I are working on sending out invitations and collecting names of participants on the day of the event. Ryujin and Yuna are leading the decorating team. Lia,Taeyong and Johnny are working on the food stalls area and the packaging of free snacks for the participants. Jaehyun , Haechan and Doyoung are on the sound team for the DJ show after the events are over and lastly,Yeji, Chaeryong, y/n ,Yuta and Taeil are participating in the events so they will be busy with practice but we do expect them to manage the things overall and help us after class. "

Jungwoo looks out of breath after speaking for so long ,his chest heaving with each breath and his shoulders slumped.

"Okay, guys that will be all. Remember to do your jobs in your free periods and stay back after college." Ryujin says, clasping her hands together to symbolize the dismissal of today's student body meeting( more like a group stress out session).

You pick up your books and swing your bag across your shoulders while Ryujin pokes Jungwoo's cheeks with the sole purpose of annoying him but he flicks her fingers right away.

As you reach the exit of the auditorium, laughing at the bickering duo beside you and your hands reaching out to open the door , you see Johnny jogging up to you hastily and pushing the door open before you could.

"Ladies first." he says as he gestures for you to walk out , a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

Your heart hammers against your chest.

"Thank you." You murmur , avoiding his gaze as you walk out of the comfortable, air conditioned auditorium and into the scorching hot campus of your college.

You've always been this nervous around him, you realize, ever since you guys met in the first year of college - despite being a part of the same friend circle.

And how could you not? There are no books, no tutorials, no classes to teach you how to behave in front of your crush.

The student apartments are a good thirty minutes away from the college campus, and with the increasing velocity of Lia's car, your desire to flop down on your soft, cozy bed increases too.

"Yo ,anyone up for a girls night out tomorrow night? " Ryujin asks from the passenger's seat,not looking up from her phone. You see her fingers scrolling through the various new resto bars in town.

"Count me in. I am bored of eating Yeji's horrible food. " Chaeryong replies ,earning a punch from Yeji.

"If you're so good at cooking ,why don't you get your ass out of bed and cook?" Yeji spits back,rolling her eyes.

You laugh at your flatmates' childish tactics.

"Anyway, I'm in too." Yeji sighs, resting her head on your shoulder,sleepily.

"Yeah, me too!" Yuna chimes in.

"What about you ,Lia?" Ryujin asks her friend in the driver's seat.

Lia narrows her eyes at the road in front of her ,but you know for sure her mind is going over the pros and cons of going out tomorrow night. You've been her roommate for three years now ; you know her basically like the back of your own hand.

"I guess so,yeah." Lia says , changing the gear and turning over the corner into your appartment street.

"Okay ,that makes five out of six. Y/n?" Ryujin looks back at you , her pleading eyes drilling into yours.

As much as you want to relax and go out tomorrow night ,you have a busy schedule. Swimming practice for the sport events in the morning ,classes throughout the day, helping out with the organization and a study date with Yuta late at night. You are packed tomorrow.

That and you didn't want to get drunk on a week day.

"I'm sorry guys,I don't think I'll make it. I promised Yuta I'd study with him. " you say . Your flatmates groan out loud,throwing you dirty looks for ditching them for a stupid study date.

"Why does Yuta want to study with you anyway ? Your majors are like poles apart." Yuna mumbles.

Frankly, you didn't know why he wanted to study with you either. You were a computer science engineering student and his major was performing arts. But it's been a tradition between you two for quite a while now. Maybe you've gotten used to comfortable silence with him when you study , like music playing in background, not loud enough to distract you but loud enough to help you focus.

"Maybe it's not a study date with Yuta after all. Maybe it's just an excuse to see his roommate,right ,y/n?" Yeji teases ,nudging your ribs with her elbows.

You blush for the nth time today. "No. I'm going to have a normal study session with my best friend. Can y'all please not make everything about Johnny?" You huff.

You regret telling them about your fat ass crush on Johnny that one eventful night when you had so much alcohol that you couldn't even recognize your friends' faces as they carried you home. You should have just had apple juice or something.

Thankfully before the conversation could go on further , Lia pulls over in front of your apartment and you sigh in relief. "Yayy Home!" Ryujin chimes with fake enthusiasm as everyone gets down from the car.

Your shared bedroom with Lia is a little smaller than the bedroom that Yeji, Ryujin and Chaeryong share but you've never had a problem with that. It's cute and warm and it reminds you of your room in your parents' house .

"I'll shower first." Lia declares as she grabs her towel and walks straight into the bathroom. You sigh,too tired to compete with her for a bath. You drop on your bed, nuzzling your face into the soft pillow ,feet dangling by the edge of your bed.

And by the time Yeji walks into your room to ask what you want for dinner, you are already passed out ,with the image of Johnny's breathtakingly gorgeous grin on your mind.

Have you ever watched those cheesy rom com movies where the male lead lives in a dorm with five other boys and their rooms are so clean you wouldn't find a single piece of clothing out of place?

Well, reality is a bit different from that.

You stand in front of Yuta's apartment door which he shares with Johnny , Mark, Taeyong and Taeil , after your flatmates drop you off and make their way for their night out . You shiver as the cool night air kisses your bare arms and you can only hope someone let's you into the apartment before you freeze to death.

"Oh,hey y/n! " Taeil opens door with a welcoming smile , gesturing you to walk inside.

"Hi, Taeil. Took you guys long enough. " you say shivering , narrowing your eyes at the boy in front of you.

The smell of burnt pancakes hits your nose the moment Taeil locks the door behind you and your gaze immediately shifts to the kitchen where Mark and Taeyong are trying to desperately save some burnt pancakes.

"Well can you blame me? " Taeil shrugs , eyeing the two boys .

"Figured. " You say as you make your way towards Yuta 's bedroom . You hear Mark and Taeyong yell a few ' Hi's ' and 'wassup's ' in your direction and you reply to them without looking back at their sorry faces.

Yuta's ( and Johnny's) room is like a second home for you. You don't often hang out here but there's a homely feeling in the warm colored curtains and the smell of Johnny's favorite perfume and Yuta's anime posters.

"Wrong room. Johnny is in the other room." Yuta comments when you enter the room and you throw your notes at him,earning a fake groan in response.

You sit on the edge of his chair , putting out your books and notes on his study table, while he sits in a far corner of his bed , his study material spread out in front of him.

Studying with Yuta is always turns out to be productive for you. You both rarely talk while studying , your minds completley immersed in the hastily written notes and the only sound in the room being the scratching of pens against paper.

Maybe this was one of the many reasons why you preferred to study with him in his room (and totally not beacuse of Johnny who you are yet to meet).

After two and a half hours of being knee deep into your books ,you finally slam the books shut and stretch your limbs,relief flushing over you after looking at the many topics you covered tonight. You mentally pat yourself in the back.

"You done?" Yuta asks when he sees you scrolling through your phone, humming a song you'd heard on radio the other night.

You nod,not looking up at him.

He's about to add something when you hear the sound of shuffling feet outside the door , followed by a series of soft knocks. There is only one man in this apartment who could knock on a door as tenderly as that.

"What do you want ,dickwad?" Yuta yells as he falls onto his pillows. You glare at him. He's taking away your chances of seeing Johnny tonight. "Y/n is busy!"

Johnny peeks in through the door , his jet black hair messy and damp as if he'd just walked out of a shower. He wears a grey hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants yet he manages to look like he'd walked straight out of a sportswear advertisement. God really has his favorites, doesn't he?

"Hey, y/n. " he says ,completely ignoring Yuta's less than appropriate remarks. You feel a warm feeling spread in your entire body , adrenaline coursing through your veins. He sends a soft smile in your direction , his eyes turning into crescent moons ,and it is enough to make you feel weak in the knees.

"Hi, Johnny. " you manage to reply and smile back , unlike most days.

Johnny's heart leaps at your response ,not expecting you to be any different from other days when you would reply his enthusiastic greetings with a cold shoulder. Guess today is his lucky day.

"I didn't mean to disturb you guys ,sorry. I just wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner with us. We're getting Sushi. " he asks ,rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes fall on the sunflower tattoo on his forearm and you have this sudden urge to wrap your arms around his slim waist and bury your face in his chest.

"Yes,sure,I guess. " you say with a slight chuckle.

"Aren't you gonna ask me,too ,Johnny?" Yuta chimes in ,pouting and batting his eyes at him. Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up ,Nakamoto. " he huffs.

Johnny looks over at you again and in a tone very different from the one he just used on Yuta, he asks, "Are you okay with sushi? We can order something else if you want."

"Oh,I love sushi! Don't worry about it. "

Lies. You hate sushi more than anything else in the entire universe.

The sushi is a lot more digestible today than those million times when Jaehyun and Yuta took you out to eat (forcefully) sushi.

It still doesn't suit your taste buds but you could eat it without wanting to throw up,thanks to the company you have .

You and Johnny sit face to face on the dining table while Yuta sits beside Johnny and Taeil ,Mark and Taeyong are in front of the television, watching a game of football.

"Hmm..this is really so good." Yuta exclaims as he takes the last piece and stuffs it inside his mouth . Fat ass.

"I know right. How are you liking it, y/n?" Johnny asks , his eyes shifting to you. You feel as if you're melting under his gaze. As if his eyes were the sun and you were ice.

"It's good. Really good. " you reply with a chuckle, forcing the last piece down your throat with a sip of water.

An achievement.

You hear Yuta's phone go off ,vibrating in his pockets along with that annoying ringtone of his.

"Yeah,what?" He speaks into the phone. You figure out it's one of his classmates by the careless tone of his voice.

"What the fuck? Are you serious?" Yuta screams , his voice now laced with urgency. His eyes widen, "We have a class test tomorrow? How did I not know about this?"

You look over at your panic stricken best friend and so does Johnny . Your gazes meet and the two of you burst into giggles.

Yuta rolls his eyes at the both of you but doesn't say anything. He gets up from his seat ,his phone still attached to his ear.

"Johnny,my dude,please walk my best friend home. I can't trust the others. Please. " Yuta says to Johnny and disappears off to his room , and you know for sure that he's going to cram his notes till the next morning.

Yuta's words lingers in the air between you and Johnny and you find a sudden interest in the hem of the table cloth in front of you. You rub the cloth between your thumb and forefinger ,the muslin cloth's soft texture distracting you from Johnny's intimidating gaze.

"So,um..when would you like to go back home?" He asks , not being able to muster up the courage to look into your eyes.

You chuckle- you didn't mean to but the bubbling laughter erupted from your throat and reached your lips before you could even stop it.

"Why? Do you want me out of your abode so bad? " you tease.

You never tease Johnny. You never even joke around with him. You don't smile at him ,you don't chuckle at him. Yet here we are.

You were being very brave today and you hated to admit it , but you liked it.

Johnny's eyes widen at your unexpected response as you once again surprise him by not giving him a cold, careless response. His heart does a backflip.

You have your lips curved up in a smile and your eyes focused on him.

This feels like a dream, to both of you.

"No, no ,of course not. You can stay for as long as you like." He replies nervously.

You shake your head with a soft giggle, " Thank you for the offer but it's very late now. All of us have a busy day tomorrow so we should get going now. "

The night air is cooler now than it had been when you arrived at the boys apartment and you regret not wearing warmer clothes.

Johnny walks along with you on the sidewalk, his eyes drifting to look over you once in a while. He carries your bag in his because he insisted that a lady shouldn't have to carry so many things when he's right there.

"Why do you never talk to me unless I talk to you first? " Johnny asks in a small voice after a few minutes of leaving their apartment.

Your body stiffens at the question, your mind desperately trying to come up with a proper reply. You want to answer him , with all honesty , that you can't do many things that you want to because of your never ending fears. You want to go bungee jumping but you're afraid of heights , you want to talk to him first but you're afraid he won't share the same enthusiasm as you.

You were afraid of attachments and afraid of the unknown, both of which were complete opposites of the other.

"That's not true." You reply,trying to laugh it off.

He looks at you with sorrowful eyes, not quite returning your laugh. You feel your heart clench.

"Have I done anything to offend you ,y/n? If yes ,then please let me know because I really care about you and I would hate to disappoint you. " he says.

The streets are quite and calm and for a moment, it is only you and Johnny in this vast universe - his beautiful black eyes and your warm cheeks , his tousled hair and your nervous hands.

"No ,you haven't disappointed me. It's just...that we're in a big friend circle and it's not possible to ,you know ,be close with everyone. "

That is a pathetic excuse, y/n, you tell yourself.

His lips curve up in a small smile now, the worried wrinkles from the corner of his eyes disappearing.

"We can be, y /n. Of course we can. Shall we start from now on then?" He replies , enthusiastically, thrusting his hand in your direction.

Your heart thumps at a speed faster than the speed of light as you decide whether or not to shake his perfectly shaped, veiny,soft hand.

You're afraid of attachments.

But you're also madly in love with Johnny Suh.

You take his hand.

It is late in the evening at your college and you know for sure that you'll be bashed the moment you step into the auditorium .

After classes got over ,you had promised Lia that you'd help with the food stalls allotation and decoration but you ended up staying back with your swim team ,discussing strategies for the final competition day , hence causing your delay.

You look over at Johnny who stands outside the auditorium door , helping the decorating team with some posters and flyers.

"Mark is mad." he says when he sees you rushing towards the door, struggling with all the books and posters and ribbons in your hands.

You sigh, " I know, goddamn it."

He opens the door without saying anything and walks behind you into the auditorium, much to your surprise.

You see Mark standing by the stage , letting out frustrated noises and pointing at random decorations which didn't need fixing but according to him they did. Oh , boy,was he mad.

"Mark, " you jog towards him, trying to get a proper hold of things you are carrying before you find a table to dump them on.

"Gosh,y/n! You are an hour and a half late! We have so much to do and only ten days are left!" He yells at you,pointing at his wrist watch.

You squeeze your eyes shut to lessen the impact of his annoyingly loud voice.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I was with the team and well..we lost track of time. I'm so sorry again ,okay? I'll get to work right now. " you say,standing in front of the angry,tiny man in front of you.

You arch your back, trying to hold on to the things in your arms without letting anything fall onto the ground. You had one too many things to carry and sadly only two hands.

"I'll get that for you." You feel two hands grab your things from behind,the arms going over your shoulders and taking the chart papers and ribbons from your hold.

And you don't even have to look back to know that it is Johnny. You have him memorised by heart - from the color of his eyes to the softness of his fingertips, from his soothing, honey like voice to his smell. He's like a book you've read a fair amount of times yet ,you never seem to get tired of it.

"Thank you. " you manage to reply through the loud sound of your heartbeat and gushing of blood in your ears.

You almost miss the warmth of his body when he walks away to put your things on the table .

You know what , " Mark starts. He looks like he's about to throw up. On you. "Just get back to work. Ew. Fuck. Y'all really getting handsy in front of my innocent eyes."

You look at him with wide eyes. "Hey, we were not - "

And if Ryujin had not interrupted you at that moment, you'd have beaten the hell out Mark Lee ; not because he had accused you of doing something you didn't do but because he had triggered a part of your imagination you didn't even know you had.

It is on the same night that Yeji makes you sit on the auditorium floor and color the huge college logo they had been outlining since the morning , while half of the squad goes out to buy some cheap dinner and cold drinks and the other half is working outside the auditorium.

"I can't believe you are leaving me alone in this huge auditorium. " you mutter when Yeji jogs towards the door to join the others. So much for being friends since childhood.

"We'll be back in fifteen to twenty minutes, y/n. " she replies. " or do you want me to call Johnny to keep you company in this huge ,empty auditorium?"

You roll your eyes at her,hoping she's joking about it. But apparently not because within two minutes , you see Johnny walking up towards you.

His presence as if automatically puts a smile on your face ,like flipping on a light switch. You usually tense up on seeing him but from the last few days, things have been different, better even.

"Woah,this looks so cool." He says as he sits across from you, a pen and notepad in his hands. He smiles at you with so much sincerity that it takes everything in you to not throw yourself at him and press a kiss to his dimples.

"I know. But I'm afraid my poor coloring skills are going to ruin it. " you comment. You dip the brush in your hands into the bowl of water sitting beside you.

"I'm sure it'll be good. It looks good already." He replies, his voice laced with fascination. You giggle at his words , as you stretch your hands and back, groaning from all the pent up tension in your joints. Something you wouldn't have dared to do in front of him a few weeks ago.

Johnny laughs. " I can help you if you want . You can rest till the others come back. " You don't even think twice before agreeing.

As long as he's near you , it doesn't matter.

He comes up to sit by your side ,grabbing the paint brush and starting to fill colors into the blank spaces. With his eyes focused on the picture , you sit back and take in the view in front of you. The long sleeves of his tshirt are rolled upto the elbow, exposing the veins on his forearm. There is dirt and dust on his pants from all the work he's been doing today and then your eyes fall on his face, absorbing the handsome features god had bestowed him with. You notice a few strands of longer hair falling over his forehead, covering his eyes as he struggles to remove them with his non dominant hand. And before you can stop yourself , your fingers find their way to his forehead, pushing his hair away softly.

"Thanks,y/n." He says with a shy smile, the undeniable shine in his eyes almost makes you see a ray of hope - that Johnny Suh might be harboring the same feelings for you that you do for him. Your heart swells with excitement.

And without even realizing it, you feel yourself find comfort in his warm presence.

Your middle school maths teacher had once told you that time passes in the blink of an eye when there's an imminent danger at the end of the line and truly so ,the next few days fly pass by like wind and you soon find yourself running from place to place to make sure all finishing touches are done.

"Did you check out the pool areas and basketball bleachers? " Jaehyun asks, as you two make your way to the auditorium where Mark and Ryunin were to hold a last group meeting before tomorrow's big day. "Yeah. I did. Twice." You reply, stressing on the last word. Jaehyun heaves a tired sigh and you two turn a corner to walk toward the auditorium.

Your heart rate picks up when you see a familiar face standing in front of the door, leaning against a pillar. And you find your lips automatically stretching into a smile. "What is he doing outside ? Is the meeting over? " Jaehyun asks when he notices Johnny.

You shrug , "Don't know."

Oh,but you do know why he's outside ; this has now become an unsaid tradition between you two to wait for the other during group meetings. Johnny didn't acknowledge it,neither did you, but it was there, as distinct as Mark Lee's voice.

He sees you and his face breaks into a grin, his cheeks flushed and heart racing just like yours. And it makes the light at the end of the tunnel shine brighter.

"Is the meeting over yet?" Jaehyun asks Johnny, you following close behind.

"No,not even started." Johnny replies and then turns to you, his eyes burning into yours. " And Y/n and I have been instructed to buy tonight's dinner so we I'll borrow her for a while."

Your eyes widen at the new information but you see Jaehyun shrug and walk inside as if it weren't a big deal - but it was, you will be out alone with Johnny and it was making you feel sick , in a good way.

"Shall we get going?" He asks you ,cocking his eyebrows playfully.

You nod ,trying to hide your red cheeks. And he sees them.

You've been into his car only a a few times , most of which you don't remember because either you were too drunk or too sleepy to register what was happening around you. This is the first time you are actually inside his car,mind and body, sitting in the passenger's seat and taking in Johnny's smell that lingers in every corner of the car.

You notice how tidy the car looks,the clean seats and windows, no extra tissues lying here and there, no money receipts crushed into seat pockets, his car is everything Lia's isn't. The drive to the convenient store is short and silent - except for a few glances you both steal at each other without the other knowing.

"What should we get? Instant noodles or something else?" He asks you as you two look around the different aisles, walking close together that you didn't even realise your shoulder was pressed to his arm till he stopped abruptly in front of the fridge.

You clear your throat, "Let's get instant noodles. That's what they eat always anyway."

He nods and you grab enough instant noodles and drinks for your entire squad and soon find yourself back in the car with him.

You settle yourself into the seat as he climbs into the driver's seat,looking apparently angry, his eyebrows knitted and mouth turned into a frown.

"What's wrong? " you ask him ,concerned.

He looks over at you , with a small, guilty smile on his lips. He shakes his head , "Nothing. It's a ridiculous thought I had suddenly. "

"Come on ,tell me ." You whine , hitting his arm softly, "I'm sure its not a ridiculous thought. "

His smile widens but he doesn't answer ,instead he just leans toward you, Your faces just inches apart. If you were nervous before now you are completely sure you're about to lose your mind. You had imagined these scenarios in your head many times before ,but if truth be told, it feels way better in real life. The close proximity of your bodies , mixed breathings and his intense eyes staring at you like you're his favorite pizza, like you're a sunday morning after a very tiring week , like you're a beautiful flower in the middle of a field of weeds.

"W-what?" You stutter nervously. He chuckles , stretching his hand out to reach for the seatbelt and pull it across your body and then locks it tightly.

"It is a very , very ridiculous thought,y/n." he whispers. He is still leaning so close to you and you know for sure that if you weren't sitting already ,your knees would have given up below you.

"I'm sure it's not." You mumble but you're not sure if he hears you.

When you reach the auditorium, you find your friends sprawled on the floor, some playing with their phones and some having a mid college existential crisis.

"Guys,we're back. " Johnny announces enthusiastically as he runs towards the group, all of their faces lighting up when they see the food your hands.

But you feel far away from them, like you are there but your heart is not,like your heart has been left behind in Johnny's car,covered in his scent and his intoxicating gaze.

"Y/n, why do you look like you've seen a ghost? " Lia points out that night , lying on her bed with her blanket wrapped around her body. You shrug and let out a fake ass shit giggle, "No, I'm just nervous...for tomorrow, you know."

"Don't be. I'm sure you'll do great and even if you don't, we have an after party to wash all your sorrows away. " she says with an excited smile.

"Oh wow,that's great. " you reply with another fake chuckle.

Oh wow, you'll have to be around Johnny the whole day tomorrow. You are not sure if you are ready to see him yet.

Lia narrows her eyes at you but let's it slip,and you're thankful for that ,for you wouldn't know what to tell her when she insists on knowing your thoughts.

Could anyone blame you though, you'd had an almost moment with your crush. How could anyone expect you to be okay right now?

The weather prediction for today was sunny with a few clouds , but if only anyone could have prepared you for what you were going to see the moment you stepped into the college campus.

You'd felt jealous before , no lie there. You remember the time you saw Johnny hanging out with Yeri, one of your juniors, and laughing with her like there's no tomorrow and you had never wanted to annihilate a human so bad . You hate being jealous. You hate the burning of your heart in your chest ,the accumulation of sweat on your palms, the warm,angry breaths you push out from your nostrils.

"Who is that?" You sound like a bad , jealous female character from a drama when you ask that question but you cannot help yourself anymore. Not when you see a girl from another college running into your Johnny's arms ,giggling like a little girl .

"I-I honestly don't know. He never told us about any girl ." Taeyong says as he looks at your exasperated expression and then at Johnny's excited face. Taeyong is almost angry at Johnny for hurting his friend.

"Yea,he only ever talked about you ." Jaehyun adds from beside you.

But it didn't seem like that from where you stood. You see Johnny wrap his arm around the girl and crush her in his embrace, just how he'd crushed your heart into a million pieces. Something as fragile and previous as your heart and he decided to play with it? Why did he act all nice and sweet to you when he already had another woman in his life? Why did he give you hope only to leave you in the dark?

"Come on , y/n. Don't overthink about it. I'm sure she's just a friend." Taeyong says ,softly tugging at your arm to move you away from that scene.

Taeyong and Jaehyun, in reality, were shocked too. They had never heard Johnny talk about any girl in that way but you. They were sure one day or other,you'd end up together. They were as surprised (and disappointed) as you were.

"Has he ever told you that he liked me? Even once?" Your voice cracks as you feel your eyes fill with tears. "Maybe she's not just a friend. "

Jaehyun rubs your back comfortingly, worried about how he'll have to handle Yuta when he finds out Johnny broke his best friend's heart. Gosh,its going to be a world war.

"He has never openly said anything about liking you ,but he did talk about you a lot. Even until yesterday...we were sure he liked you,dude." Taeyong says .

You shake your head, "If he did like me ,he'd have told you guys. He doesn't and that's the end of it."

And although it shatters your ego , you look away from the pair and walk toward the swimming pool complex where your team awaits you.

When you enter the pool area, Taeyong and Jaehyun immediately run toward the audience to be with the others.

And you find your gang-sans Johnny- waving at you from the audience as you walk up to the registration desk and put in your name.

Your heart feels so heavy ,like those dumbbells that Yuta uses ,but a thousand times more heavier. You have no desire or energy to swim anymore. You just want to lie in bed and cry your heart out.

But sadly you didn't have much of an option..

"Good luck, y/l/n. Go easy on the opponents." Your coach tells you with a chuckle. You force a smile as you nod. Talk about overestimating one's skills.

You enter the changing room and quickly strip off all your clothes ,leaving you in your tight Speedo swimsuit . You tie your hair in a ponytail and are about to head out when someone bumps into you ,quite roughly to be frank.

"Watch out ,girl,jeez. " you mutter to her,rubbing your sides.

The jealousy from a few minutes ago comes back but this time not in the form of drizzle, this time it's a whole storm.

It's the same girl from before, the one with Johnny.

"I'm so sorry. " the girl says ,looking back at you with an apologetic look.

She's pretty,you realize. Long black hair and a mole under her eye ,she looks like she could be a model in training somewhere. Long eyelashes , a slim waist and perfectly smooth looking skin ,she has everything you ever wanted ,including Johnny Suh. She's pretty ,prettier than you at least.

"What's your name?" You don't want to know that name ,yet those words spill out of your mouth.

"I'm Joy. From the performing arts college." She thrusts her hand towards you for a handshake. " and you?"

"I'm y/n. " you reply ,the frown on your lips never once leaving .

"You're swimming too ,right? It's going to be great!" She says.

"Yeah,its going to be really great. " you take her hand.

You can't have Johnny ,but at least you can have the trophy.

*

The four basic stroke races get over within the first one hour of the competition and needless to say ,by the time the relay race was announced , you had three gold medals already in your possession.

"Relax your body." Your coach tells your team of girls while you stand in line,ready for the relay race to begin. "Y/n, since you're going last , put in all your energy. We need to win this last round to get the grand trophy."

Directly in front of you, you see your two other teammates stand and stretch their arms by the pool’s edge , their faces bright with a hint of excitement and nervousness. Beside them ,you see Joy and her other pretty friend getting for the race too. With her tight red swimsuit and perfectly done forearm tattoo , she has everyone's attention on her. And you bet that everyone in the audience was rooting for her.

You nod at your coach's words while he turns around to speak with your partner as you once again look at your new mortal enemy, your teeth gritting unconsciously and your gaze turning more into a glare.

"Yayyy!!! Y/n,let's get it!" You hear your friends cheer from and you giggle for the first since this stupid day began. Mark ,Yuta and Taeyong are cheering for you on top of their lungs while the girls are holding posters with your name written on them . You wonder when they had the time to make them. And the rest of the guys are clapping their hands like there's no tomorrow.

Everyone except Johnny.

He sits in between Mark and Haechan, his eyes practically glued to your frame and your eyes meet his for an annoyingly long second, he smiles at you and mouths 'best of luck .'

You look away from him ,your body burning with rage. So now he's going to pretend to know you? Or maybe he wasn't waving at you at all,maybe he is just looking at Joy and your self absorbed mind assumed that he was looking at you? Possibilities are infinite but time is not; time is very precious.

"You guys have to win okay?" You hear the coach say one last time , before patting you on your heads and walking away.

Somewhere behind you ,you hear a stand by whistle go off and your team mates on the opposite side immediately walk up on the platform.

"On your marks."

Thump.

"Get , set."

Thump.

"Go!"

The race starts off pretty smoothly, your teammate cutting through the water as if this is everything she'd ever known ,her speed unmatched with anyone else's. And when she reaches your side,your partner immediately jumps off into the water , the steady speed still maintained.

The next few seconds pass fleet away in the blink of an eye and soon your turn comes up ,you realize, as you climb up to the platform ,bending over to take a diving position.

And when your body hits the water ,you feel all the anger ,rage, sadness, envy being channeled into strength and energy. Your body moves against the waves like that it what it was meant to be doing ; not running, not walking but swimming.

Your ears block out all noises around you,your mind focusing on nothing but the finish line.

And the very second your hand touches the wall on the opposite side , your body relaxes and your head pops out of the water like a cork. The audience erupts into claps and cheers and whistles and your name being repeated on everyone's tongue.

Panting and smiling and fist pumping together at the same time is tiring but you do it anyway.

After all,you'd just won your team the swimming trophy.

You feel a little light headed but it doesn't affect you at all ; you had proven yourself in front of your friends and teachers once again .

Johnny and His lovely Joy can go eat shit for all you care. ( you do care about Johnny , you're just being stupid rn)

"I'm so proud of you , baby !" Ryujin helps you up from the pool while the other girls engulf you in a hug ,not minding the fact that your entire body is dripping wet with the chlorinated pool water.

The guys arrive shortly after and Yuta presses a loving kiss on your head, "Congratulations, bitch."

But amongst the crowd of people surrounding you, the pats on your back and side hugs,the happy faces congratulating you, you feel almost empty. Like something was missing. Like the last piece of an almost completed puzzle .

Your eyes scan the people around you , looking for none other than Johnny and when you finally spot him, your heart breaks even more as if it already wasn't completely smashed into tiny pieces .

Joy has tears of failure running down her face and Johnny brushes them away with his thumbs, her head finding a comfortable place on his shoulders.

You'd always wondered what it must feel like to be in such an intimate situation with Johnny. You had wanted to experience it ,first hand , but by the looks of it, that might never happen.

Beacuse you winning the competition is not more important than Joy losing it.

Beacuse you are not more important than Joy.

"What do you mean you don't want to go to the after party? " Yuta has been hanging out with Mark way too much, you think. His voice is almost,if not more, as loud and annoying as Mark's now.

"I don't feel very good. Can you please drop me home? Then you guys can go and have fun." You reply, not quite looking at your best friend. You're afraid he'd be able to read through you , just how he always does.

"This is not about you , is it? It's about Johnny. Taeyong and Jaehyun told me." There he goes.

"Think whatever you want. I just want to be alone for a while, please." You say.

He pauses the music playing in the car, tugging at the sleeve of your tshirt.

The image of Johnny and Joy flash in your mind ,still fresh even though it happened a almost five hours ago. You remember how tenderly Johnny had held her and how lovingly Joy had stared at him.

“I really thought he liked me ,you know. I don’t even blame him right now. I should have known better than to get attached,break my oath of forever maintaining distance from him. “ you speak in a hoarse voice, the lump in your throat growing painfully.

Yuta stares at you for a few seconds,then shakes his head with his eyes on the car dashboard, “Its not your fault either, y/n. All of us thought he liked you too.”

You see Yuta take out the keys from his pocket and the pretty,yellow flower keychain attached with it.Johnny had given him that on his last birthday,you recall.

Your eyes drift to various places in the car, from the blue heart sticker on the mirror, to the bills stacked into the pockets, the empty cold drink bottles and the smell of lavender spray in the air, everything reminds you of the man you were trying so hard not to think about.  

You start softly crying.

"Y/n, goddamnit, you won the completion! You are our swimming champion. And you helped us organize this event too. You're today's star. Would you really let that asshole ruin it?" Yuta demands,passing over a tissue to you.

The words ' that asshole ' stick with you , stinging your heart which was still in love with Johnny but you don’t say anything. Yuta was only trying to make you feel better.

Not earning a reply from you,he groans,"I don't care what you want ,y/n. We're going to the after party at Haechan's family farm house and staying there tonight. That's Final. " he declares , turning the key and you hear the car engine revving.

"I'll cry if I see him. " you pout,sniffing.

"Don't worry, if he makes you cry,I'll kill him.." Yuta replies as you drive off to Haechan's farm house.

The entire drive, your mind keeps playing the moments you were trying so hard to forget and you hated it. So,so much. You felt like a prisoner in your own mind.

Yesterday night , in the car,when Johnny leaned down towards you, you could have sworn that he was in love with you.

But now, not as much.

You wonder if Joy had felt special when he comforted her ,because you sure as hell would have. You would have held him like the earth was ending today and he was only thing that could keep you alive.

"We're here. " Yuta announces as you pull over in front of the huge mansion just a little away from your college campus.

You have been here many times before so the beauty of the house doesn't baffle you anymore but your eyes do go wide in realization of how rich Haechan's family really is. Every damn time.

As you step out of the car , your sneakers squeaking against the ground beneath you, you can already hear the loud music coming from the lawn and the smell of barbecued food and alcohol makes you almost want to enjoy the party.

"You're late,y/n!" A very drunk Doyoung walks towards you ,Taeil waddling behind him with two glasses of vodka shots in his hands.

"I know I'm sorry. I hope I didn't miss much." you say ,slightly embarrassed at the fact that you almost skipped the party.

They both hug you tightly as you wince from the strong smell of alcohol, "Congratulations ,sweetheart!" Taeil slurs while Doyoung sings, " we are the champion ~" on the top of his lungs.

"Gosh,yeah,thanks guys." you push their intoxicated bodies away with Yuta's help and make your way towards the lawn where your friends sit around a bonfire , dancing ,singing ,talking ,having the time of their lives. You find yourself smiling a little on seeing at their happy faces. Your eyes roam around the group until they find Johnny , eating roasted marshmallows from a small plate and your first instinct is almost to say ' hi ' but you remember Joy and how painfully sweet they were with each other and you revert your eyes from him the moment he looks in your direction. Your heart paces rapidly, yearning for his attention but you know you wouldn't get it ,no matter what, so you walk inside the house, into the kitchen to grab something for yourself.

"That piece of shit Yeji burnt the meat." Chaeryong complains to you as she volunteers to fill your plate with food. You wonder how many more such swimming competitions you'd have to win for your friends to be this generous with you everyday. "Thank god Taeil saved it before he got horribly drunk." , she adds.

You giggle a little.

All of a sudden, you feel a tap on your shoulder and when you turn around , you are filled with dread. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect this.

" Hey,y/n. Congratulations on winning the trophy!" Johnny says with a bright smile.

As if you give two shits about it, you find yourself thinking for a split second. You look up at the tall man towering over you,smiling like he didn't butcher your heart earlier. He wears a warm grey hoodie with his favorite and probably only pair of blue jeans. His hair is slicked backwards ,exposing the forehead you'd often wait so eagerly to see. His signature cologne makes you feel weak , and if you weren't sober ,you knew things would have gone down pretty quick.

But you can't be rude to him - you could never be rude to him even if you wanted to.

"Thanks." You mutter in a small voice,taking the plate from Chaeryong.

Johnny furrows his eyebrows at your dull reaction and then eyes Chaeryong as if to ask what happened. She shrugs and awkwardly walks away from you two.

Brilliant. Now you have to face Johhny alone.

"Is something wrong,y/n?" He asks ,his concerned voice sending shivers down your body.

You shake your head, "No. Why do you ask?" You look around the place to look for your best friend. Where's he when you need him the most?

Johnny leans over closer to you. "You were ignoring me during the competition but I shrugged it off. And now you're acting like that again. " he says ,his breath fanning for against the side of your face, "I must have done something. "

You want to push him away but as shameless as it sounds , you were enjoying this attention he was giving you and even more than that, you were enjoying how physically close he was to you.

But it didn't mean you would forgive him. Or Joy for that matter.

"Why should you care," you chuckle sarcastically , "I'm not Joy. So don't bother."

Change of mind - maybe you could be rude to him if you tried really,really hard.

His face twists in further confusion.

" How do you know her? And why is she in this conversation again?" He asks,now softly pushing you against the kitchen counter , his hands on either side of you. He has you trapped ,literally.

You sigh, trying to hide the burning of your cheeks and the drying of your throat. You can't let your guard down. "I saw you...with her in the morning. Hugging, staring at each other like you saw the galaxy in each other's eyes. " you huff , your heart heavy from the pain that memory brings.

Johnny laughs , a deep, genuine laughter,erupting from his throat fills the kitchen. You feel like you were walking in the same tunnel again, Johnny waiting for you at the end with a source of light in his hands.

"Are you perhaps ," he leans in closer to your face, just like last night in the car ,"jealous?"

Of course you were jealous. You had always been jealous of anyone who was privileged enough to enjoy Johnny's extremely pleasant company ,especially in your absence.

" No. " Liar.

He presses his lips together in a line ,as if trying to suppress a smile.

"Then why are you turning red like a tomato?" He asks.

You turn your face away from him ,trying to move away from his grasp but he gently puts his index finger under your chin and makes you look at him.

"Y/n, Joy is my cousin." he says. Guilt punches you in the stomach like your stomach were a punching bag and the guilt was a boxer,strong and determined. You feel the blood pulsating in your ears ,in your throat ,in your temples. "I am not dating her or seeing her or whatever you think I'm doing with her. "

You look down at your feet but he makes you look at him again "I'm sorry." You mutter

"Do you remember last night I told you I had some useless thoughts?" He asks you ,his right hand now wrapping around your waist.

You nod your head ,the shame and guilt of falsely accusing him and Joy of something they never did not allowing you to look directly into his eyes.

"This is what I wanted to do. " he pulls your chin closer ,as you stand on your tip toes. Your faces were just so close ,you could feel his lips brush past yours, "May I?" He breathes.

You only find a small whisper to reply him with, "Yes. "

The feeling of his lips pressing against yours was something even your imagination couldn't have prepared you for. His soft, tender touch mixed with the urgency of the kiss made it feel even more surreal than it already was. Your noses glide against each other as he presses you closer and closer till there was no ' closer ' left. He held you firmly by the waist and your hands found their way around his neck as you depended the kiss,your tongues touching and breaths matching each other. You could feel the taste of the marshmallows from earlier and your stomach feels all giddy and excited.

And by the time you both pull away, you are panting, struggling to catch your breath as he supports your body against the counter.

"I like you ,y/n. I always have. I just didn't know how to approach you. " he says , brushing a few hair strands away from your forehead, "And I'm so sorry for making you upset today."

You giggle a little, confused whether to reply to his confession or accept his apology.

You decide to do both. " I like you ,too,Johnny Suh. So much. " you lean your forehead on his ," and it's fine. You didn't mean to make me feel bad ,I was being paranoid. I'm sorry too. "

Johnny pulls away to look at you ,his swollen lips curved into a heartwarming smile.

"I bet you looked cute while being jealous." He says , pecking your nose softly.

Souls come into a barren desert. There isn’t fire being sprung from crevices in the ground, no castle made out of ebony and skulls from those who have tried to come to save their loved ones, something that mark had never understood. Instead, when the souls enter the realm of envy, they are met with barren and dry air, something that would suffocate you and make your throat run dry to the point where you want to claw at it just to get some sort of air in. The realm of marks sin, which has condoned him to a life of hell and biding, everyday greeting and every day guiding the souls to the torture chambers that is the realm itself make him want to rip his skin out, claw his way out of the sand that surrounds every crevice every hole around him. If he thought about it, as he often had all those years ago when he had been first sent into the golden hell it was genius. The perfect hell for one who wants to take from others, for the boy who just wanted a lick of freedom, a taste to the outside world from which he had grown up and taken and become everyone else around him. The generosity behind his personal hell was that there was no one to compare himself too. No one to take and bargain an offer so that he could have their lives. That is until the golden specks on the shattered mirror began to part, and slowly did the gold and slithering snakes that hung at his sides begin to show him a shape. A new realm. 

Earth. Or the human realm as he had heard the beings around him call it, seemed to be dusted in gold. The world that he would look at through a cracked mirror, dust adorning it’s every crook and crevice conveyed what Mark hadn’t seen in the many years he’d been stuck down where he was. Well where part of his body was, always tied to the demonic and infernal hell that would like the dust that covered the broken images that flitted anywhere gold touched the light.

The light that adorned the realm before him was nothing like the golden hell he was trapped in. or had been stuck in, until the mirror has finally fully cracked and had opened. The swirl of dust and sand, a never-ending whirlpool that had pulled at him until he wasn’t touching the sand, and his boots weren’t on the uneven floors. Serpents didn’t adorn his arms, their slithering bodies no longer crawling up his body, instead, they were replaced by the branded golden tattoo that flashed on his neck. 

The world had seemed to stop and spin around at him. It seemed as if every particle of light that would hit the windows around him would hit just to bounce off and reflect on the world around him. It made his head spin, eyes shifting from one street to the next. Sirens and yells could be heard from the different sections of the avenue, and Mark laughed. A laugh that ripped from his throat and carried to the rest of the world, it didn’t stop. He laughed, eyes trained on the golden specks around him, the snake at his neck moving with his movements and those around him ignored him. It was just another day in the world they called earth. 

Your day like every other day had started with the yelling of the landlord. A screeching yell that wouldn’t leave your head until you were on the street and the bustling of the street, car engines revving and conversations between friends, strangers, and the occasional biker that would yell at a car because they weren’t stopping. 

Earth. The only place you had ever known, and would ever know. With the amount of money you owed the landlord and government, your family's debts a never-ending pressure and shadow at your side that no matter how many shifts, how many hours you worked until your hands would bleed, raw from washing too hard, and your legs would give out halfway up the stairs back to your apartment. It seemed to be that the world was covered in various hues of gray. A series of repeated schemes that would remain the same no matter how much a car would honk it’s honk, because at the end of the day no matter how hard you tried the debts were never-ending. 

It was in the little things that you found comfort, that the greys would shift and become a different variant of color. Times like when the dog you walked by every morning would now come up to you, tongue out ready to lick your hands, and the sight never failed to make you smile. At times it was the way the sun would rise, just at the same time as you did and the purple and orange hues would mix together casting the painting of a lifetime in front of you as it rose and rose towards the sky. Wanting to escape from the life it had beneath the earth’s ground, reaching to somewhere else. It was something you were too familiar with, yet all you had wanted was to give back to your dead parents, be happy with what you had. 

Grey. that’s the world you lived in, grey until you walk down the same street, the cobblestones on the floor are almost too familiar to you. That if you closed your eyes you would know where every crevice and dig would be, just like the church that would ring it’s bells at the exact same time every morning. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard the shrill, 3...2...1… and the bells aren’t heard. Instead, the squeal of laughter disrupts your thoughts, and the world explodes in gold.  

It’s an explosion of dust that seems to cling to the boy in front of you, hair covering his eyes as he clenches onto his stomach laughter, a sort of squeal and giggles, and you can catch the way the tourists eye him. tourist... you think, eyes rolling, they’ll never understand the normality of chaos. You should’ve looked away the moment you saw him, you'd have continued your walk to the next house that had demanded. hands of burning just by thinking of the bleach they’d have to endure from cleaning. But instead, it seems like the hues of grey have been canceled all to be replaced by gold. Gold dust, golden hair, golden skin, everything that surrounds the boy who is now a mere foot in front of you screams color. And you can’t help just reach for a second to see if he’s real if the grey that blurs everything around him, making him the only shape image in your vision. It’s all gold until the tears that seemed to flow from his eyes catch the light and you feel empty as if the world has been yanked from your feet and his eyes meet yours and you’re stuck.

Hell. That's what his eyes remind you of. Not that you had ever been to hell or that you believed in the false ideas that the priests would preach to you every day as you passed the looming church. But his eyes, a never-ending pit of black so dark that you weren’t even sure where the iris was, that held pain and tolerance for something you couldn’t quite place are what you would imagine hell to look like. You seem to be in a trance by him until the laughter stops and it’s replaced by a smirk that adorns his features, it’s childish and you can’t help but smile back. 

“Do you need any help?” the question leaves your mouth softly, and you check the time on your watch. The watch should have stopped working long ago, but somehow it still managed to tick day after day. The boy in front of you chuckles again, his dark eyes absorbing the light around him.

“Uh…” the sound is questioning, and he tilts his head to the side, golden hair shifting, the sun shines behind him almost illuminating him. When he laughs again, you catch the flash in his neck, the golden snake that seems to move him. “Yeah. Do you know where this building” he hands you a piece of paper, slim finger pointing at the image of an old building that you recognized from passing it regularly on your way to the daily houses, ‘is?”

A light nod of your head and he’s smiling again. The type of smile that is contagious and makes everyone around him want to laugh along. 

“Great! Lead the way” 

“Yeah I have work” and with that, you check your watch, five minutes before your shift starts, and commence your walk again, quick movement of feet, head down counting the cracks on the cobblestone. You get exactly thirty seconds, you know, because that is the amount of time it takes you to cross the street and turn to the block where the house is before your peace is disrupted. The hand on your arm makes you jump backward, and you’re ready to hit whoever is holding onto you, only to find black eyes meeting yours, and the hand that’s been hanging onto you’re an arm to flash gold before retreating. 

“Well then, after work?”

“No” you continue to walk, and tap on your shoulder reminds you of the boy behind you. 

“I just really need to get here” his voice is slightly pleading, but his tone shifts slightly at the end and his fingers are no longer on your clothed shoulder, and you shake your head again. 

“Come onnnn” his constant whining makes you speed up your pace, the time slowly ticking down until you are at the door of the humongous house that makes you question why people would want things this big when they wouldn’t take care of them.

“Okay, okay” he stands in front of you now, the sun is no longer shining behind him, but in front and his frame seems to be coated in golden light. Dark eyes squinted to attempt from stopping the uv rays from stopping his vision, a small smile gracing his features. A small grunt escapes your lips, followed by a “what?”

“Let me help you?” he asks the question as if it was obvious, and a worker could let a stranger in to help them with their day. If he knew how if the owners or the landlord found out that you had let in someone else into the house the beating you would get. The thought itself made you laugh, a dry and humorless laugh, “no’.

“Can you say anything more than ‘no’?” the words are teasing, his smile never fading, and you check your watch again, thirty seconds before your shift begins and you try to walk around him. The smile that escapes your lips is more like a grin and you repeat the words again, before entering the household. 

The apartment smells like bleach and rubbing alcohol. It’s cold, the a/c always running making the house dry and arid compared to the streets. You hate almost everything about the too-big house. From the too tall ceilings, that make your back hurt every time you have to clean the ceilings and windows that stretch across the walls. 

It was the flashes of gold around the house, that made the world around them look deflated. Chandeliers hanging from one ceiling dropping low and clinging every time the windows would be open and the wind would blow-by. You made your way to the storage closet, even though it was too big, it seemed as if they just would give and give money but never for the right reasons. Never to help the poor children that you would pass when you would walk back at night, as they held out their hands asking for anything to get by. The money went all away, washed down the diamond-encrusted watches and gold washed lamps and pots. It disgusted you, but it was either this or out on the street debts till dragging you down black and blue bruises covering your body. 

So you stood up, and began to clean, forcing yourself to not break the vase to your right, or accidentally spill too much bleach onto the silk sheets. 

Mark was about to quit. He hadn’t thought that gaining someone’s confidence would be this hard, especially someone who seemed to be struggling to keep food in their stomach. It was as if you didn’t even think the word help would be relevant to you, as you strutted around the house concentrating on the task at hand. Thought he could hear the mumbles and curses that would slip through your lips as you took in the surroundings around you. 

It was the way you were so determined to get whatever you needed to get done even in the situation you were in that made mark pause for a second. He looked down at the golden brand that adorned his wrist, he was almost sure you had seen it but prayed to the last false gods that might look out for him, though he really didn’t know why they would, that you hadn’t seen the tattoo. The gold flashed in the bright white light of the house that seemed to push at him, and he decided that he would not take no for an answer. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the blasting a/c that made the house temperature drop below normal, his breath almost visible in the room, or the memories of the demonic hell he would be sent back to if he didn’t get someone to switch places with him. He wanted everything that humans had, the capability to take and take without ever double questioning it, the freedom that came with being human was something the angels never understood. Never bothered to understand, and the brand on his wrist and serpent that would ever so hiss at his ear with too sudden movements were reminders of that. 

Your hands were brushing up against the window sills, no gloves to cover your hands making them raw and vulnerable to the bleached water and multiple products that were displayed out before you. Mark was almost too stunned by the constant hum that left your lips, completely indifferent to the tinted red that had begun to mark your hands until he tripped and the sound that left him forced you to swirl around frown on your face. 

“No” the word left your mouth again, and mark grinned. If there was something he was good at was being persistent and he would get you to come with him to the old abandoned house, and if that meant exposing the tattoo and telling half-truths then it would be okay. 

“yes” was his reply, simple and accentuated. Mark has already leaned down, the first brush he’s found was now in his hands as he dusted off the overly exaggerated vases that he had awed at when first walking in and now wanted to shove off their pristine stand. 

You huffed in annoyance, the thought about hitting him or splashing him with some of the bleach crossed your mind. 

“Look sir, dude, idiot” the words left your mouth with a tinge of poison and disinterest, “i really, truly don’t care what you want. But if my boss comes in here and finds you doing whatever the fuck it is you are doing-” mark scoffed and then grinned it was nice to hear more than a straight no from your mouth. “I will lose my job, which i need. And will have a hell of an afternoon, so for the love of god leave” 

If you had been looking closely, and not as focused on the way mark’s hair fell around his face framing a delicate frame, the way the light refracted on the glass walls the bubbles creating small mocking rainbows in front of you as you scrubbed the debris, you would have seen him flinch at the word god. The word caused a shiver down his spine out of fear and disgust. Never would he be able to curse the gods, unless he wanted to lose the little entertainment that remained in hell. To curse the gods freely, what a liberty he couldn’t wait to have. 

The snap of fingers before him zoomed him back to focus on you, lips pressed together in thought and annoyance. 

“I would, but i can’t” lies, he chided himself but it was the only way to freedom to be human again. You looked at him stunned, and your fists clenched ready to physically kick the man out of your house so mark spoke again, this time his voice was softer and the serpent seemed to hiss louder at his ear. Threatening him, reminding him that he needed this work. And in desperation he let the words that he spoke go into you, let them wave into your mind and get them to do what he wanted. 

Black eyes capture your attention from the moment the first word leaves his mouth and it’s as if you’ve forgotten what you were doing. In a trance-like state that has you feeling for the golden-haired boy in front of you until time has passed and the sun is beginning it’s descendent into the cold and cruel earth. The work for the day, finished in the passing time between you got to the house sun still flaming hot and bright at its peak to where it’s flames had begun to die down. You refuse to think or let the boy in front of you charm you into helping you with work, but much to your dismay it’s only when the day is over that you realize the effect and toll his words had on you. 

It was dizzying, the feeling of the world slowly tipping to the side. Swaying to the mark of the golden haired boys words. Side to side. Mark grinned, the flash of white teeth against the darkening sky shocking you for only a slight second. The moment the smile leaves and his mouth is no longer conveying words the world seems to stop spinning and you shake your head. Focusing on the topic at hand, finishing work. You spin around looking for the materials and tools you need to finish the perfection of the house only to find the windows and surfaces gleaming. The tabletops and walls seemed to shine with a shine you couldn’t quite place but would reflect a yellow hue. The gasp that escapes your lips makes mark’s grin broaden, teeth showing. 

“What did you do” the words aren’t a question but an accusation, a statement to the boy and his grin falters slightly. 

“Helped?” his voice is small, and questionable as if he himself isn’t sure what he did exactly but one look, the blackness dragging you back in, and your anger seems to fade out, replaced by the need to take and replace form someone. It’s as if the mentality from the demon would be switched into yours, envy a haze in your thoughts while mark became more stubborn and the word goddam seemed to frighten him less and less. 

The sun had extinguished it’s flames, and the purple hues of the bruised sky the only thing that helps the two of you walk towards the old abandoned house. A house which was on your way back to the apartment, which shouldn’t make you late before curfew, which in theory was harmless. The moment you had agreed to take him to the house mark’s whole face lit. and you noticed that his pitch black eyes weren’t really black, but a darker brown that grew lighter the more you talked. Or maybe that was just a trick by the light, whatever it was it made you agree to his words. That was no longer demanding or whining but seemed to be freer, much like his movements. 

It isn’t until the two of you reach the abandoned house, and for some reason you can’t place you feel the pull to walk inside. The stars and cracked lamppost the only thing to guide you in the dark as the two of you enter. You can barely make out the floorplan, the windows are mostly broken in the little light that shines through casting shadows across the floor that creaks with every movement you make. You don’t feel, don’t understand why suddenly the world seems to feel heavier around you, as you turn to look at mark who’s gaze seems to look around the house, eyes no wear near the black you’d seen when you’d first met him. 

The house begins to feel too warm and stuffy, and you want out. Mark’s presence behind you is ghost-like as he fidgets with his hands moving them from side to side, or a constant thrum against his arm. Slowly you begin to walk backwards, until you feel an arm wrap around your waist holding you in place. You shift, trying to break free from his grasp, and mark shakes his head, the golden hair that falls into his eyes grazes your neck, sending shivers down your spine. And it’s in that moment, when mark whispers in your ear two words, and the snake by his neck hisses that you realize who he is, but before a scream is ripped from your throat the world turns black. 

The moment your figure becomes grainy, and the dull yellow hue of the sand slides through his fingertips where the warmth of your arm used to be, the world around mark becomes alive. It becomes alive in every way that he dreaded to live, the guilt that gnaws at him from no longer just wanting pulls at him, the memories of the past day a relay of emotions through his mind, almost suffocating. He doesn’t realize when he falls to the creaking floor, knees thudding against the wooden slabs. He doesn’t realize the way the moon now shines in through the windows, of how the serpent at his neck is no longer hissing at him. Doesn’t focus on the world around him, because you are no longer next to him. The warmth seems to have slipped away from him the moment you went to the other world, from the way you would snap at him and scrunch your eyebrows. Small things he had noticed, small things that had made him want to stay on this planet longer, with you longer and it wasn’t until the eclipsed moon passed by the abandoned cabin. Not until sand slipped through his fingers that he realized the feeling he had felt on the walk to the warehouse, the way his hands felt clammy and his eyes would look anywhere but at yours. Yours that had darkened and darkened the more you looked, the more you talked to mark. 

It’s when the guilt weighs him down, when the world has turned to bleak and he no longer feels free as he curses out the gods that he realizes that all this time he’s wanted to get rid of his sin. A sin he never deserved, a sin that was placed on him for choosing differently than what had been appointed. It’s in that moment, that you slip away from him, smile and have a determined gaze on your eyes, that he wishes he was you, that he wants to take it all back. Because he is the sin of envy, the one that wants everything they can’t have and when they get what they want, well then, they don’t want it anymore, because all Mark wanted was you back. But you were never coming back, you would be surrounded by serpents and golden sand dunes with nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait. Envy, how much he wishes he didn’t have it.

With that being said, your best friend Mingi loves the constant barrage of questions coming your way. Each time you report back to him about which person asked you the same exact question that day, he gets giddier and giddier. You thought university was supposed to be a step up from the typical high school antics. Yet, you’ve been proven wrong day in, day out thanks to the overwhelming amount of love that girls seem to have for your best friend.

“No, we’re just friends. Best friends.”

“Oh, amazing! Could you please mention me or something to him then?”

“Why don’t you do it yourself? I’m sure he’d appreciate it a lot more.”

If only it were so easy to get rid of them that way. You use the same response on every person that comes your way, and none of them seem to be able to grasp the underlying message you’re sending their way. The “please get the fuck away from me, I just want to make it through one class without being asked about my relationship status with my best friend” always flies over their heads, but over time you’ve come to understand it. The whole notion of a girl being close friends with a guy is a concept that people tend to struggle with, apparently. So even though both you and Mingi find it quite ordinary, the people observing from the outside jump to conclusions before considering what your relationship actually is. (He calls it one of the perks of being friends with him, but you only see it as a detriment instead).

It isn’t a surprise that when you approach your friend less than an hour later, the first thing that he comments on is the expression on your face, no doubt one of disdain or exhaustion.

“Long day already?” He laughs as you drop your bag on the floor and sit in the seat across from him. His smile only stretches further when you glare at him from across the table. “How many today?” You scoff at his presumptive question, and even though he’s correct, you don’t want to give him the pleasure of being right quite yet.

“Remember the cute guy from our psychology class?”

Mingi rolls his eyes at the question, shaking his head ever so slightly. You silently wonder if he’s merely disappointed that you didn’t mention any people thirsting after him.

“He’s only cute to you. You have terrible taste in men.” He dodges the attack you send his way, smoothly moving out of the way of your arms reach, and sticks his tongue out at you. “I’m better looking than him though, right?”

“No!” You protest as you try to extend your hand further to actually make contact this time, but your efforts fail thanks to the unfortunate length of your arms. Mingi laughs at your struggles for a moment before leaning closer to let you smack his shoulder. You take the bait, grateful to have the opportunity now before he takes it away from you later.

“Well, are you gonna do anything about it or just let it sit as you always do?”

You fall back against the chair, fingers drumming against the table as you look up at Mingi with pursed lips.

“I know what that means.”

“I’m going to do som—”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to watch him from afar like you always do and secretly pine after him in the desperate hopes that he might notice you or talk to you at some point without putting in any effort into making an actual move yourself.”

“Okay, wow, fine.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.”

“I don’t have people lining up left and right for me. I don’t have it as easy as you do, so that’s not fair.”

“Whoever said I have it easy?”

“People come to me every damn day asking for your number and if I can tell you about them!”

Mingi cocks his head to the side, blinking at you with his wide eyes for a moment. The sudden silence catches you off guard; Mingi rarely sits still without making some sort of ruckus, leaving you to be the calmer, more level-headed one. In all honesty, you expected him to laugh and be a little smug about the attention. You blink back at him, lips still parted slightly.

“Anyways…” You bend down to grab something out of your backpack, but Mingi stops you with what he says next.

“Why won’t you initiate for once?”

You hesitate, glancing at Mingi from the corner of your eye.

“Why won’t you actually go on a date with one of these people?” You counter. You try to fight the embarrassment that creeps up your neck, but it’s too late, and the heat floods your cheeks before you can duck your head again. Mingi is fully aware of why you can’t initiate. Still, you’ve always refused to admit it, even though he’s in the exact same position.

“None of them have really piqued my interest, I guess.” He shrugs.

“That’s shallow.”

“Well, it’s better than leading them on, isn’t it?” Mingi asks, and you have to agree with him. You would certainly rather have someone be upfront about their feelings instead of leading the other on. After a few moments of silence, he continues,

“Anyways, you didn’t answer the question. Why won’t you just initiate?”

The heat on your cheeks deepens even though you were expecting the question. You try to duck your head to keep Mingi from seeing your embarrassment, and yet he keeps pressing his chin forward, so you have no chance to hide your face.

“I can’t,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to initiate things since I’ve never had experience with anything that falls in that spectrum. You know that.”

Admitting it out loud provides zero relief from the anxiety pumping through your veins at the moment. Still, the slight frown that creeps onto Mingi’s face sends you further into a frenzy. You tug a notebook out of your bag, slamming it down onto the desk before you, causing some of the other students within the library to send pointed glares your way.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to learn quickly then?” Mingi suggests, adding a slight shrug to accentuate his words.

“Is it that easy though?” You peer at Mingi with wide eyes for a moment before shaking your head. “Why am I asking you? You don’t know anything either.”

Mingi does nothing to defend himself, instead offering a slight shrug in response. You glance down at your notebook and thumb through the pages until you reach a blank one. Mingi’s hand hits the page. You jerk your head up to look him in the eye, and a hint of playfulness lingers behind his brown eyes, and you narrow your eyes immediately. You know that look, years of friendship have taught you that it can only mean one thing.

Mingi has an idea.

And when Mingi has an idea, you never end up liking it much.

Nothing against your best friend or anything, but he isn’t renowned for coming up with the smartest ideas. He grins at you, gums flashing as he exposes his teeth, and you frown at his enthusiasm.

“No,” you say preemptively, ready to shoot down whatever idea Mingi has.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why?”

“I know whatever idea you have is a bad one.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name the last good idea you had.”

“Automatic page-turners so you don’t have to turn the page yourself.”

“That’s not — Mingi, no. How hard is it to turn a page?”

“Harder than you think.”

“It’s not that hard, dumbass.”

A brief moment of silence then— “That’s what she said, ha.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“You love me.”

“I’m regretting everything now.”

“Look, Y/N, listen for two minutes. That’s all I as—”

“Your time starts now. 120, 119, 118, 117—”

“Okay, chill! Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.”

You sigh, propping your elbows up onto the table and staring forward at Mingi with little interest.

“Alright, so I have an idea. Don’t say no yet, just hear me out for a minute. You could… you know, try it out on me.”

“Excuse me?” You squint, eyes meeting Mingi’s brown ones, and he dodges eye contact in favor of looking at the table.

“Since you’re scared to initiate things, you could test it out on me.”

“Mingi, you don’t have any experience either. This guy has probably has had twenty girlfriends in his lifetime and a hundred times more experience than both of us combined.”

“A hundred times zero is zero.”

“Mingi.”

“Hear me out. Th-there’s this girl. I, uh, I’ve had my eye on her for a while… but I can’t initiate anything. I-I don’t have any experience either so that’s holding me back from doing anything. So, why not… why not just learn together?” Your friend glances up at you, eyes darting away as soon as he meets your eyes and clears his throat.

You let the silence settle and mull over the suggestion. You do everything with him, and you’ve done that since you were in middle school. The list of firsts you’ve had with him is not that long, and yet the offer of experiencing more firsts with him… You examine your friend’s face, putting a bit too much effort into analyzing his features. He isn’t bad looking — not in the slightest — and there’s a good reason why so many girls are chasing after him.

Tall? Check.

Sweet? Check.

Funny? Check.

Broad shoulders, large hands that dwarf yours, and thighs that you’ve definitely thought about a hell of a lot more than a best friend ought to think about? Check, check, and check.

Besides, you trust him, and he’s never done anything particularly shady (except for that one time when he told your high school sophomore year crush that you thought his ass was hot). You honestly trust him with your life. What’s the harm in trusting him with this too?

He’s still trying to avoid looking in your direction. A slight redness has risen to his cheeks, and he seems more unsure about the idea than you are, even though he’s the one who suggested it.

There's one glaring issue that's causing red lights of warning to go off in your mind. You love Mingi, there's no doubt about that, and he's your closest friend for a reason. That doesn't include sexual attraction, however, and despite thinking about his looks (and thighs), you made an executive decision a few years ago that meant you would never go after your friend with sexual intent in mind.

His soft-spoken suggestion is hesitant yet convincing, and you blatantly ignore the warning signs in favor of the pull of Mingi's words.

"I mean... why not give a try?" You shrug in attempts to hide the embarrassment beginning to creep up your neck.

Mingi freezes in place. A moment of silence passes between you, your discomfort grows exponentially, and you regret saying the words now. Then Mingi snaps his chin up, dark eyes searing holes into your own.

"Really?" He asks, lip trembling with the syllables.

"Yes?" You answer. You curse yourself for pushing the questioning lilt to your tone, chin tilting to the side slightly.

"Are you being serious about this though?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you really… you know, wanna… test things out with me?"

"That's why I said yes, Mingi."

Your legs begin to shake under the table, the nerves in your gut spreading throughout your entire body. If Mingi suggested it, why is he so hesitant all of a sudden?

"Were you expecting me to say no?"

"I don't—I have no idea what I was expecting to be honest." Mingi shifts in his seat, and his hands leave the edge of the table to most likely curl them into tight fists in his lap as he usually does whenever struck with nerves. You don't respond right away, instead of blinking at your best friend with a look of mild wonder.

"Um, so… what do we—when do we—you know?"

"Start?"

"I guess… yes?" You aren't used to this lingering awkwardness between you and Mingi. Typically, your friendship is all sunshine and butterflies with zero awkwardness or tension. Hell, any arguments the two of you have are usually based on something stupid and trivial, and it's been that way for as long as you can remember. Even after the incident where Mingi told the guy you liked that you thought he had a nice ass, you were more embarrassed to be around the guy than you were angry with Mingi for letting that nugget of information slip.

Just the prospect of engaging in physical affection and shit like that causes too much panic and awkward tension for comfort. Perhaps it's another red flag or warning sign indicating that this is a bad idea, but you continue to push that thought further to the back of your mind until it doesn't bother you anymore.

"Wh-whenever we want, I guess? I mean, whenever you want. That's probably the best idea."

"Well, school comes first. I have two projects coming up, as well as a few tests because midterms are on their way, and I refuse to fall behind at this point. I have to make sure I maintain a good GPA in order to get into my fall classes, and I've heard that they have no mercy once you're a sophomore, so I need to make sure everything goes smoothly from this point onward so that—"

"Ah, Y/N, I get it! School first! It's okay!" Mingi's hands come up again, held up in defense over his chest as he urges you to stop your rant. You inhale deeply in efforts to catch your breath, the lack of air during your rant causing you to feel lightheaded.

"W-We don't have to start right away. Take it slow at first? If you think that's best…" Mingi trails off and looks away from you, a redness creeping up his cheeks again. You shake your head at him even though he cannot see the action.

"I don't know what's best," you mumble, tugging the notebook that lies forgotten on the table closer to you. The odds of you getting any work done at this rate are minimal, especially since you know you will be thinking of whatever this arrangement entails for the next few days.

"A-Are you leaving?" Mingi jerks his head back in your direction as he notices your movements, and you shake your head a few times.

"I was going to suggest we head to the coffee shop. I'd, uh, I would rather discuss this there instead of the public library."

"Oh, yeah, uh, that's a good idea. Yeah, let's do that. The usual one?"

"Yes, dimwit, I was also assuming we would walk over there together as we usually do." Your use of the playful nickname alleviates a bit of the tension residing in the air, and Mingi breaks into a gummy smile at the sound of it. You continue to pull your unused belongings together and shove them into your backpack again, Mingi doing the same across from you.

He's first to stand, which would generally mean that you would have to jog to catch up with him and his long legs, but instead of leaving right away, as usual, he turns the corner of the table and joins you where you're still sitting.

You blink up at him with wide eyes, hand frozen on the strap of your bag. Mingi doesn't say a word before stooping down and snatching your bag before you have the chance to stop him. You release a noise of indignation that sounds a bit too much like a dog's yelp for your liking. Mingi doesn't give you any time to breathe, because he next grabs hold of your left hand that's still outstretched in the air for your backpack.

"Mingi," you hiss after a moment. Your gaze drifts between the awkward clasp of your hand in his and the man's cheeky grin above you.

"I got your backpack, don't worry. And your hand." He sends a wink your way, and lunch nearly makes an unwelcome appearance in your mouth again. Before you can retort back, Mingi gently tugs you to your feet and pulls you into step with him as he walks out of the library.

People are sending the two of you looks. Not the kind of looks you are used to getting, but looks. The ever so typical "ugh can they just get together already" and "everyone knows it but them" looks are no longer present. No, this time it’s looks of "oh is it finally happening?", "are they finally together?" and "it's about damn time" that have you bristling. Again, your brain pushes the thought that this may be a bad idea to the forefront of your mind, but Mingi's grip tightens ever so slightly and pushes that thought away.

You glance down at your joined hands as Mingi pulls you along, expecting to feel some sort of warmth blooming in your chest, and yet nothing rises. You shift your fingers in his grasp and slip your fingers between his, a childlike wonder to your gaze, and Mingi looks back at you when you stop walking. He sees your fixation on your joined hands and allows quiet to hang for a moment before breaking your reverie.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" He asks as he bends a bit to look you in the eye.

"It's nothing," you mumble back.

"We've held hands before, you know? This isn't anything new."

"I know…" you trail off, train of thought failing to be vocalized. It feels different, doesn't it? Is it because there is a different sort of intention behind it now? Or am I reading too far into things already?

"Hey, you dolt, you're thinking too hard again."

"Sorry." You shake your head to recover from the impending thoughts and smile up at Mingi. He grins back at you, gums flashing, then squeezes your hand tighter before continuing to lead the way to your usual cafe.

"S-So…this girl, um, do I know her or...?"

"Or what?" Mingi doesn't spare you a look, but his grip on your hand loosens, fingers slipping out of yours, and you wonder if you've said something wrong.

"I mean, is she someone who has come to me asking for every detail of your life or not?"

"N-No, she's not. She, uh, she doesn't seem interested in me at all."

"Would I recognize her if I saw her?"

"Maybe? Uh, she's in our history class. Hyerin. Min Hyerin?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head back and forth even though Mingi can't see you. The name doesn't ring any bells, although you try your best to avoid talking to your classmates. Mingi is the social one between the two of you, having enough extroverted energy to carry the both of you through social interactions and such. He may know this girl well, but you surely don’t.

"You know the guy in psychology yet?"

"What?"

"Do you know his name, you dolt?"

"O-Oh, uh, no? I haven't talked to him at all. I'm too—"

"Nervous, I know."

"That's not all there is, Mingi." You stop in your tracks, eyes bearing holes into your best friend's back. The walls of defense come up immediately, and you cross your arms over your chest. Mingi keeps walking for a moment before he realizes that you are no longer by his side. He glances back at you. A sigh passes through his lips when he reads the frown on your lips.

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Is this about the anxiety thing?"

You roll your eyes at the question, arms falling away from your chest. Part of you wants to argue and defend yourself, but the constriction in your chest prevents words from coming out. Instead, you stare at the ground, gnawing on your lower lip with a bit too much pressure. Mingi notices the expression painting your features and walks closer to you. He takes hold of your left hand, fingers interlocking yours, and tugs you closer to his side. Whether he knows that you don't really want to talk about it or that he doesn't want to address the topic either, you'll never know, but he starts walking again with you in tow.

You frown at your joined hands again, but the tightness in your chest begins to alleviate as you continue to walk, and for a moment, you think that the anxiety bubbling in your gut will go away. However, that thought is quickly dispelled because the longer Mingi holds your hand, the more you notice the glances and stares of strangers on you, on your joined hands, on the two backpacks Mingi carries. It's another moment of questioning yourself, wondering if you're making the right decision or a terrible mistake, but Mingi doesn't give you much time to dwell on those thoughts because his fast walking gets you to your usual hangout in less than five minutes.

"Can you order for us? I need to go to the bathroom." He asks as soon as the two of you step through the door. A typical gummy smile plays at his lips, one you can't say no to, so you shoo him off, watching as he drops your bags at a booth before he dashes for the bathroom. A sigh escapes your lips, and you walk up to the counter.

"Hi Y/N," the barista behind the counter greets, hitting you with a smile.

"Hi Yeosang, how are you?"

"Eh, as good as I can be. I work a double today."

"Hey, you're the one who chose this. You could've had the same psychology class as us, but you said you wanted a full day off school so you could work." You reach across the counter and poke at Yeosang's shoulder. He laughs at your childish behavior.

"Fair point, okay. I'm assuming you want the usual, by the way?"

"Of course. You know Mingi. He's a creature of habit, not very open to new things."

"Yeah, yeah, but you're the same way," Yeosang teases as he punches in your order on the register. You purse your lips. Should I tell him about the deal with Mingi? No, he wouldn't approve. He'd think it's stupid, wouldn't he?

"Y/N?" You lift your chin and look at Yeosang in the eye, startled by his sudden utterance of your name. "I asked you a question but you seemed to be off in la-la land."

"Oh, sorry. I—whatever. What's the question?"

"When are you actually gonna start working here with me?" Yeosang asks (again), head tilted to the side and bright eyes wide.

"If you want to see me more, all you have to do is ask."

"Pfft, you think I want to see your lazy ass more? Seeing you more means seeing Mingi more, and that's not a joint package I'm the biggest fan of."

"You know you love him," you chastise as you pass your credit card over to him.

"Oh, whatever, he's not all that great. But anyway, I'm asking because of money. You said you were gonna get a job last semester but never did."

"I know, I know. I just—the school has been my focus more than anything else." You glance over at the bathrooms where Mingi is on his way out. Yeosang follows your line of sight to land on the redhead. A small scoff passes through his parted lips.

"Yea, school." The dig is a typical one from Yeosang, he isn't shy about sharing his opinions, and that's something you've grown used to in the time you've known him. Yet it stings this time, perhaps because there are new intentions behind your relationship with Mingi, or it's the doubt still nagging at the edges of your thoughts.

"Be nice, Yeo. That's your roommate, so you're the one who gets to go home to an angry Mingi, not me." Yeosang merely rolls his eyes in response and passes your credit card back to you. A soft smile lands on his lips a moment later though, eyes still following Mingi as he settles into the booth.

"Whatever, I know he's the best roommate I could've asked for or something."

"Oh, by the way, we need to talk about something later. Uh, I'll try to catch you whenever Mingi and I are done with homework." You leave the counter before Yeosang has a chance to question you, fleeing his inquisitive stare and the feeling of anxiety in your gut. It's a last-minute decision on your part, a spur of the moment panic that surges through your gut and makes you decide to confess the deal you have with Mingi, which you regret almost immediately.

You go to join Mingi at the table, but when you sit down, you can see Yeosang glaring at you from across the small coffee shop, no doubt curious about what you desire to talk about, but you simply make a little 'x' with your fingers and shake your head.

"Okay, so…are we needing to make some ground rules or something?" You ask as you redirect your focus to Mingi. He snaps his gaze to you, turning away from the window on his right.

"Uh, I guess we should? I don't know." Mingi brings a finger to his mouth and catches the fingernail between his teeth.

"Okay...what's off-limits for you?"

"Off-limits? I don't know. Should there be those things?"

"Don't we need to have some sort of boundaries?"

"I was just gonna go with the flow honestly." Mingi shrugs and leans back against the cushion of the booth. Your eyes dart over to the counter where Yeosang is and find his gaze tracking you again. You curse under your breath, reach for your backpack, and pull out a notebook so that you at least look somewhat busy. Yeosang is undoubtedly suspicious already, especially considering the fact that you told him you had something you wanted to talk about, and you can't keep your mind from drifting to the thought that Yeosang knows precisely what's going on by now. Mingi watches your hasty movements with little interest but pulls out his own notebook as well.

"Even if we just go with the flow, shouldn't we discuss it?"

"Y/N, that's not what going with the flow means."

"I feel like we need boundaries," you claim.

You're avoiding Mingi's gaze now, and it's more than obvious, especially when he tries to make eye contact, and you jerk your head to the side to dodge it.

"Okay, give me an example."

"No sex," you spit out, cheeks flushing as soon as you say it. Mingi's eyes widen at the suddenness of your words and the volume, and you realize you might have said the words a bit too loud. Then, Mingi's cheeks turn red as well, almost matching the color of his hair.

"Y-Yea, okay, we can—look, we're just gonna take that off the table now, yea? Yea. We don't have to—ew."

"Ew?" You reiterate.

"I just imagined having sex with you."

"Mingi!"

"I'm not saying it would be bad, I'm ju—"

"Gross, I don't wanna know!"

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"I didn't mean for you to tell me about your sex fantasies."

"Oh my god, that's not what I was doing."

"Y/N!" Yeosang's voice interrupts your bickering, his bright tone sends across the cafe, and you instinctively sit up straighter. You excuse yourself from the table without a word.

"What the hell did you do?" Yeosang asks as soon as you get close to the counter. You reach for the coffees in front of you, but Yeosang pulls them out of your grasp at the last second. "Answer the damn question."

"I didn't do anything," you retort as you grab for the drinks again.

"Bullshit. I'm calling bullshit. You fucking yelled 'no sex.'"

Your heart plummets, and you can almost feel the sensation of it dropping. Eyes wide, you stare at Yeosang's blank expression. "So, what the fuck did you do?" Even having known Yeosang for quite a few years now, you still get scared of him at times. This is most definitely one of those times because even though his face is blank, there is an overwhelming level of something in his eyes.

"Can we talk about this later?" You hiss out, cheeks flushed and burning at this point. Yeosang refuses to let up though.

"You're about to make a bad decision, aren't you?" As soon as he voices his question, you realize precisely what you saw in his eyes.

Concern. He's worried about you yet again.

"I swear Y/N, are you letting Mingi drag you to another party? Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"No, I'm not," you mutter back. "Stop worrying so much. This isn’t about a party."

"Y/N." There's a hint of warning in Yeosang's tone, and doubt catches you in that moment of weakness. "I can't bail you out of everything. Especially when it comes to something between you and Mingi."

"There's nothing there!" You spit, eyes flashing anger at the accusation, and Yeosang instinctively takes a step back. "Fucking lecture me later, Yeo, I don't have time for this." You snatch the drinks off the counter and head back to the table where Mingi waits. Either your anger is radiating off you in waves, or Mingi watched your interaction with Yeosang at the counter. As soon as you take a seat, he pipes up with a question.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Were you two arguing?"

"No, no, it was nothing." You ignore the persistent stare that Mingi sends your way by sipping your coffee.

"Why does Yeosang look like you’ve just kicked his puppy then?" You hesitate, drink halfway back to the table, and glance over to the counter again. Yeosang isn't there anymore, however, empty space there instead. You redirect your focus to Mingi, tongue dragging across your front teeth.

"We can't let him know about this."

"What?"

"We can't let him know what we're doing," you reiterate, hand coming down on the table with a bit too much force.

"O-oh, yea, I wasn't planning on it?"

"I'm gonna talk to him about some of it but not all."

"What are you even saying, Y/N? I'm not following." Mingi drums his nails against the table, head tilted as he watches you struggle to find the words.

"I don't know! Just ignore me, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Well," Mingi starts, taking a deep inhale of air. "Do you wanna go to my apartment?"

"What?"

"Don't make it weird, Y/N, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm not making it weird!"

"God, you're being so awkward about this. No wonder you've never had a boyfriend!"

"I'm offended, Mingi."

"Good."

You scoff at his response. "How am I supposed to respond? I didn't even hear you clearly the first time."

"I asked if you want to go to my apartment," Mingi says again, slowing his words so that you can clearly hear them.

"Yea, that's fine. I'm fine with that." You glance over to where Yeosang is again.

"Why are you worrying so much about Yeosang right now? He has nothing to do with this, Y/N." You reel and face Mingi again, catching his brown eyes on yours.

"He wouldn't approve of this," you mutter, swirling your coffee around in its cup. Mingi narrows his eyes.

"You just said that he doesn't have to know."

"He's our friend, Mingi, and your roommate. He is going to find out eventually."

"You're the one who agreed, Y/N. I put up the offer, and you accepted it. You didn't have to, and we can still call it off if you've changed your mind." Mingi shrugs, much more nonchalant about this whole matter than you are.

"It's not that. I would just rather… I don't know. I would rather not have him witness it."

"So, you would rather have your roommate witness it?"

"We aren't friends with my roommate; however, we are friends with Yeosang."

"Okay, I see your point," Mingi relents, putting his arms up in defense. "I raise a counterpoint. Hear me out?"

"Go ahead, go ahead." You sit back and rest against the booth.

"Yeosang works late, remember? Full days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, until closing. Then he has to clean the cafe before coming back to the apartment. So that means he wouldn't get back until past eleven." Mingi draws invisible lines across the table with his finger. You follow the movements with your eyes, listening to Mingi's plan carefully.

"So…?" You prod in the hopes that Mingi will elaborate more.

"So, Yeosang is used to seeing you at the apartment without there being some underlying intention behind it. Even if we decide to make this agreement a reality, he doesn't have to know because we could limit ourselves to learning things when he isn't around. And when he does show up, we can just chill and do the things we usually do whenever Yeosang's around."

Mingi is making too much sense. Far too much sense, and he's using far bigger words than are usually in his vocabulary. That is a rather significant concern; however, you can't find any flaws in his argument, no matter how hard you try. And perhaps that's the purpose of Mingi's case and what his true intentions are, to be able to convince you with this, and you hate to admit that it's working.

It's your turn to drum your fingers against the table.

"Well then," you start, avoiding Mingi's gaze by looking at the table. "I guess…we ought to get started then?" You don't intend for it to end in a question, yet it does. Mingi cocks his head to the side, glancing over you with a slight bit of shock across his features as though he wasn't expecting you to agree, which is strange in your mind. You pack your notebook back into your backpack without another word, collecting your things and getting ready to head out. Mingi fumbles to catch up with your pace.

"O-Oh, you wanna go now?"

"You were the one who suggested it?" You peer at Mingi now, head tilted in question.

"I didn't expect you to agree so quickly, that's all." Mingi scratches the back of his neck. A light flush hits his cheeks. "Considering all your…prior complaints about it, that is."

"I'm trying to make sure this isn't awkward, okay?"

"It isn't awkward, it's just—well, it's weird, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" You hesitate, halfway out of the booth, and look back at Mingi again.

"I mean, yea, we've done a lot of things during our friendship. We grew up alongside each other and have done pretty much everything together. Yet, it doesn't feel like this was something either of us considered."

"And now that we're about to do it, it feels odd."

"Yea, exactly. I think you're overthinking the whole situation though. We're doing the same things we've always done: going to cafes, the movies, the park, hanging out at my apartment, those sorts of things. That's nothing new for us."

You sigh and slide out of the booth, collecting your things and not looking back at Mingi when you utter your next words,

"That's not what I'm scared of."

Mingi follows quickly and falls into step beside you a moment later. You feel the heat of his gaze on you but elect not to say anything. He waits though, following you out the door and back into the cold February air.

"I'm scared of things changing between us," you admit once the door snaps shut behind you, as though that will provide you with some semblance of security. Mingi opens his mouth, but you already know what he is going to ask, so you interrupt him. "I like the way things are between us. We're best friends, and I don't want some stupid desires to get in the way of our friendship." Mingi moves in front of you and reaches down between the two of you to grab hold of one of your hands.

"We're best friends. This won't change anything between us because we have been friends for this long without doing these kinds of things. Even when it's all said and done, we will still be friends, and nothing will be different." Mingi pulls you to his side, fingers slotting between yours, and leads the way down the sidewalk. “Let’s just… do this as though it’s just like anything else we would do together.”

You want to point out that this is different: there is a fine line between a normal friendship and whatever this game you’re playing. You can’t bring yourself to voice the concerns, however, so you keep your lips pressed together. Considering how much you’ve complained already, you’re sure that Mingi would just be annoyed if you said anything else. So you stay quiet, fingers squeezing tight around Mingi’s, and fall into step with him. It’s a comfortable feeling, aside from Mingi’s silence, which is a thing you aren’t used to. Still, it gives you time to just bask in the last shreds of normality between the two of you.

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you let go of Mingi’s hand to pull it out.

Yeosang: if you get your sorry ass stuck at another party, I’m not bailing you out

Yeosang: deadass

Yeosang: you’re on your own

You huff as you read the messages, a small pool of annoyance bubbling in your gut. The good and right thing to do would be to respond and reassure Yeosang that it’s not that serious, not even close to what happened last time.

You do the opposite. Ignoring the messages, refusing to respond, and putting the phone back in your pocket to retake Mingi’s hand without saying a word.

“Hey, Mingi, I have a question.”

Mingi glances down at you, no doubt assuming that you’re going to ask something about the deal again, and you rush to clarify.

“How is it possible that none of the people who have been into you have piqued your interest? Just… statistics wise, I don’t understand how that’s possible. Surely at least one has caught your eye.” Mingi’s gaze drifts again, and he snaps his chin away from you before you can see the expression on his face.

“No. None of them have. I don’t know what to tell you. Just... I haven’t been interested in any of them. Sure, some of them are pretty, or have nice personalities, or simply would be a good girlfriend, but none of them are—” Mingi cuts himself off, and you hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes next. You think he’s going to continue speaking for a moment, but instead, he shifts the topic over to you. “I could ask you the same question, Y/N. There are plenty of guys who have liked you, plenty who probably do right now, but you never do anything about it.”

“Hm well, that’s different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t see it. I mean, you get people who approach you directly and an endless amount of girls who come to me because of you, but that doesn’t happen to me. So I never know if someone likes me, or… I have my eyes set on someone else, so I don’t think about it.”

“You never thought that I might be the same?” Mingi’s question shouldn’t catch you off-guard, but it manages to do so anyway. To be honest, you have never considered it. “I’ve liked people in the past, and when I like someone, it’s like no one else exists. That’s why I’ve never focused on the girls who approach you or me.”

In your eyes, Mingi has always been this single free-spirited kind of person. Never talked about girls or boys, never showed interest in either, and never talked about having feelings for anyone. You always chalked him up to be the type to not be interested in relationships, but it seems you were wrong about that.

“So you… you do want a relationship?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you know, some people are aromantic or don’t get that sort of attraction towards others, so they aren’t really interested in relationships. Some just aren’t into that kind of commitment, some just want to fuck and go. It’s different for everyone, and I just… I assumed that—you know?”

Mingi breaks into laughter as you stammer your way through the words. “I thought you knew me better than that, Y/N.”

“We don’t talk about this sort of stuff, Mingi. What do you expect? I can’t read your mind either, so I don’t know what to tell you!” You barely even notice where you are when Mingi releases your hand and pulls a door open. You have to shake your head and actually take in your surroundings, seeing Mingi’s apartment building before you. He waits for you to step through the door without saying anything. “Sorry, zoned out.”

“Obviously,” Mingi laughs under his breath. You duck into the building, warm air smacking you in the face, and you turn your head to avoid the onslaught of warmth. You don’t wait for Mingi to lead the way up to his apartment, you already know where it is. “Hey, remember that Yeosang gets stingy about liquids in the apartment! Try not to spill your coffee this time!”

“It was your fault last time, I don’t see why you’re blaming me!” You call out over your shoulder as you quickly jog up the stairs.

“You kicked me!”

“And you retaliated by throwing a pillow at me! Not my fault it hit the coffee cup.” Something hits the back of your thigh, right below the curve of your butt, and you spin to face Mingi. He cackles at the shock across your face. “Did you just—you did not!”

“Didn’t what?” Mingi laughs, stepping past you on the stairs and continuing up without you. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate.” You scoff and hurry to chase after him.

“You hit my ass!”

“No, I hit your thigh. There’s not much ass to hit anyways.” Mingi sends a grin your way. You can’t do anything except gape back at him, mouth hanging open as he simply laughs and continues up the stairs.

“I’m offended, Mingi. Not much ass? Why are you even looking?”

“Not looking at much, to be honest.”

“Shut up, Mingi!” If you didn’t like your coffee so much, you would consider dumping it all over Mingi in retaliation. Instead, you’re going to have to find another way to get back at him because no way in hell are you going to let him get away with talking shit about your ass, no matter how flat it may be. “You’re equally as flat, if not more.”

“It’s different for guys though.”

You roll your eyes back at the comment. “Don’t be shallow.”

“What’s the saying? Different strokes for different folks? Some people like boobs, some like butts.”

“And some like personality and other non-physical assets.” You can almost hear the roll of Mingi’s eyes even though he’s in front of you, but he doesn’t add any more salt to the wound. Thank goodness for that too, because you’re nearing his apartment on the third floor. The jingle of keys distracts you from your thoughts. Mingi fiddles with his keys, and you watch on with little interest as he unlocks the door to his apartment. You push your way in first once he opens it though, slipping past him to get inside. Sipping at your coffee, you turn to look at Mingi as he steps through the door as well.

“Why don’t you put your coffee in the kitchen this time? Just in case you decide to kick me again.”

“You mean, in case you throw pillows again? I can’t recall if Yeosang was more upset about the coffee on the carpet or the rip in the pillow.”

“Definitely the carpet. He hates stains.”

“He hates tears and rips more though.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Have you seen how upset he gets about the dish towels at work?”

“Okay, but have you lived with him? No. Trust me. Stains are his biggest pet peeve.” You shake your head a little bit but decide not to argue with Mingi about it. Still, You listen to his advice and give your coffee one last sip before setting it on the kitchen counter. You hear quite a bit of movement behind you, and you assume that it’s just Mingi bustling about with his belongings. Giving your drink one last quick sip, you turn away from the counter.

Then, the breath is knocked out of you, a sharp force smacks you in the chest, and you gasp in surprise as some tall figure traps you against the counter without warning. You can do nothing except blink at the chest before you, fingers gripping the marble counter that digs into the flesh of your back.

“M-Mingi?” You stammer. You don’t dare look up, your heart descending into shambles at this point (mostly out of shock, yes, that’s precisely what it is, nothing else). “Wh-What are you—what are you doing?”

“Trying something,” Mingi mutters, voice much lower than you anticipated. You nearly choke on your breath. Your fingers grip the counter tighter as Mingi looks down at you. “Hm, interesting.” He steps back, and you inhale a gasp of air now that there is more space between the two of you. You press a hand to your chest in attempts to quell the frantic racing of your weak and fragile heart. Mingi crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes stay on you, and you don’t have a chance to catch your breath.

“In-Interesting?”

Mingi leans forward, and you instinctively lean back at the same time. There’s nowhere for you to go though, you’re still stuck against the counter, and your back bends painfully against the granite.

“Are… are we starting no-now?” You whisper, eyes glued to Mingi’s. His face presses closer to yours. Breath hot across your face, Mingi shifts his gaze so that he’s looking over your features. His arms fall to the counter, entirely trapping you now, one arm on either side of your body, and you forget how to breathe for a moment.

"Do you want us to start now?"

Mingi doesn't look you in the eye; instead, he keeps glancing over your features and following your nose's curve down to your lips. His gaze lingers there. He presses forward a little more, and one of his thighs slips between your legs with ease. Your lips part as you gasp a little, the pressure of his thigh pressing against your inner thighs eliciting a spike in your heart rate.

"Is it working?" Mingi asks after a moment. You can do nothing except exhale shakily as you look him in the eye, trying not to move otherwise for fear of brushing against his thigh again. His stupid fucking thigh that's wedged between your legs. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Is what working?" You hiss out between gritted teeth. Even though you're trying to seem upset, you're confident that your cheeks are the color of tomatoes.

"Can I… can I-I kiss you?" Mingi sounds surprisingly less confident all the sudden, as though the prospect of kissing you is dangerous, even though his thigh resides between your legs.

"Y-yea. Go for it." You grip the counter behind you a bit tighter. Mingi hesitates a moment then slowly leans in to close the gap between you two. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait for the hard force of his lips hitting yours. It's soft, however, like a pillow against your lips. You don't move, instead of letting Mingi test the waters first. It takes a moment, but suddenly you have the confidence to. You use your weight against the counter to push forward, moving your lips against his with more force. Mingi matches the strength and pushes against you. His thigh involuntarily presses further between your thigh. You gasp into the kiss, clenching around his leg as it brushes your clit, and your hands fly from the counter to Mingi's arms. Mingi pulls back to glance down at your face, which is now surely gleaming with sweat because you can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

As though by instinct, his arms slide closer to your hips. The pads of his fingers barely brush your skin, where the hem of your t-shirt has ridden up. You bite down hard on your tongue. He has a slight flush to his cheeks now that you really look at him, the redness tints his nose and ears, and you can see the slight stutter of his chest as he tries to catch his breath as well. He doesn't wait for a response to his question.

"I wa-want to kiss you again." His tone is quiet, too quiet for it to affect you the way it does, but there's a tightening in your gut as you hear the words. Instead of answering with words, you shift your hands to the collar of Mingi's shirt and pull him closer to you.

"Kiss me then," you mutter. Your breath is hot on his lips, and the action of pulling him to you causes an almost visceral reaction to washing over Mingi. A high-pitched whine passes through him. It startles both of you. Mingi's blush intensifies, and he ducks his head to hide the embarrassment. You don't give him a chance to hide for long, reaching up to push his chin back in your direction, then press your lips to his once more. Mingi sighs into the kiss. He slides his hands closer to you, taking hold of your hips. His fingers are hot against your skin, and you relish in the sensation as you press yourself further against Mingi.

He doesn't let you pull back for air until he's almost running out of it. Even so, he only gives the two of you a few moments to catch your breath. Whatever you were expecting from your first kiss just went out the window because you had no idea this is what it would be, nor did you think you would be sharing it with Mingi. Yeosang’s concern appears in the back of your mind again. The blaring sirens in your ears ring in warning as you drag your gaze over Mingi’s lips. You ignore all warning signals as you dip in for more.

Something tells you that you’re going to regret this.

⁂    ⁂    ⁂

If someone had told you that a month ago you would make a deal with your childhood best friend and that deal would entail making out and sexual explorations, you would have laughed in their face.

Mingi? You really think I would even think about him like that?

Yes, well, here you are a month later in his kitchen yet again (how many times this week?). His lips are on yours. You will say that Mingi has gotten a lot more confident with his kissing in only a month, which is quite impressive in and of itself. He’s also gotten more confident in other departments, wandering hands becoming more frequent, whereas you can barely stave off the embarrassment of kissing him. One thing he loves is marking you. Even if you’re just sitting on the couch, Mingi has his lips on your neck and busies himself with pressing mark after mark against your skin.

But not now. No, right now, Mingi has his lips pressed to yours, and he is kissing you with a particular fervor that leaves you both wanting more. You two haven’t gotten very far past the kissing stage. A little grinding here and there, some awkward orgasms, and a few attempts to get in each other’s pants, but Yeosang always seems to make a timely appearance in those moments. You haven’t been caught yet though, which is more than a miracle since you and Mingi are nothing shy of sloppy.

"I want to try something," Mingi mutters even though the two of you are the only ones in the room. He isn't as shy or reserved this time, no, he's carrying a lot more confidence, and there's a fire in his eyes that catches you off guard.

"More than you've already done?" You exhale shakily.

"Yes. Just a little. Maybe." Mingi's tongue slips out and moistens his lips. Pushing his thigh forward, he works your legs apart slowly. His eyes remain on yours, watching for any sign of hesitation, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip. It's uncomfortable at first; the width of his thigh is too much for your smaller stature.

"Hold on." You shift under him and try to get a better angle with his thigh between yours. "Mi-ingi, wait." Mingi halts immediately at your words. You keep shifting until it's comfortable, only for Mingi to further press his muscled thigh against your crotch. You gasp, the sensation pulsing through you. "F-Fuck."

"Language," Mingi chastises. A laugh courses through him before he presses further up against you. You grasp at his shirt, balling your fists around the material, and throw your head back. "Does... does it feel good?" His voice is much more hesitant, confidence lost from his tone.

"Y-Yes. Yes. It – oh, oh." You shake under him as his muscle works harder against your core. "Fuck, for someone who do-doesn't know what he's doing, you're doing just fine." Rocking back against Mingi's thigh, you feel your hesitations slipping away. The pleasure of the feeling is too good for you to care any longer.

"Your reaction is helping a lot," Mingi huffs out as you release a small moan.

"Wa-ait, I th-think I'm close."

"Already?" Mingi asks. You roll your eyes at his remark and slap his arm.

"F-Fuck you."

"I can stop."

"No, no, no." You bite out, teeth gritted together.

Mingi rolls his thigh forward again. An almost pitiful moan leaves your lips as he does. A string of moans continues to escape as he uses his hands to guide your hips against the muscle of his thigh. You brace yourself by holding onto his shoulder, feeling a wave of heat wash over you.

"Oh fuck, fu-uck, I'm cumming," you cry out as the high hits. Your whole body trembles and shakes as the warmth washes over you. Mingi holds you against him as you ride it out, both arms snaking around you.

"Well, that's one idea down." Mingi slowly pulls his thigh away from you. His hands come down to the counter again, forehead coming to rest against yours. The euphoric sensation quickly leaves you, and as the orgasm passes, you find that cold washing over you instead.

"Is it my turn to try an idea out?" You whisper. Your hands find the collar of his shirt, folding around the material and tugging him down to you.

"Yea, I'd like that." Mingi chuckles. His fingers trace down to your sides.

Then – something rattles and clicks, and you hear the door creak. You shove Mingi back in haste, he stumbles back, and you spin around to turn your back on him. Your hands find the edge of the counter and grip it hard. You try your best to seem somewhat normal, but the two of you look more awkward than anything. It’s glaringly apparent that you were doing something, and you can only hope that Yeosang doesn’t put two and two together.

Your face is hot when Yeosang comes into view. Mingi has moved to the fridge in attempts to hide his red cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t notice you right away, still focused on closing and locking the door, but when he turns to see you, his head tilts in question.

“I really thought you were going to another party.” He laughs under his breath. As he moves closer to the counter, his eyes land on where Mingi is positioned by the fridge. A questioning gleam begins to rise up in his dark eyes. “Why the hell is it so awkward in here?”

You sputter a little, rushing to deny the awkwardness, but Mingi makes the situation even worse by turning around and excusing himself.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he mutters as he slides out of the kitchen and down the hall. Yeosang’s brows shoot up. You two stay in silence until the door of Mingi’s room clicks shut. You gnaw on your lower lip as you watch Yeosang lower his school bag to the floor.

“You reek of sex.”

“Ex-excuse me, I d-do not!” You stammer, blinking furiously.

“And Mingi was popping a boner.”

“Oh my god, Yeos–”

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” The question isn’t spoken with vehemence or anger. Instead, Yeosang sounds tired and disappointed. That almost hurts worse.

“I-It’s no big deal. Just… we’re just learning. Together.”

“Learning together. Yeah, because that always ends well.”

“Listen, Yeo, what would you do in my shoes?”

“I have no idea, because I don’t even know why you thought to do this in the first place.” Yeosang leans against the counter and presses his palms against the granite. His gaze is hot on your skin, so focused on you that you have to look away.

“I don’t know anything a-about relationships or sex. Neither does Mingi. I… I want to know what I’m doing when I have sex for the first time. And when I get in a relationship. Isn’t that normal?”

“It’s normal not to know what the hell you’re doing, yeah. It’s not normal to make a sex arrangement with your childhood friend simply because you’re both horny.”

“That’s not what we’re doing!”

“Then what is it really?”

“J-Just tell me what you would do in my shoes.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about earlier?”

“Yeosang, please.” Your embarrassment is skyrocketing at an impressive pace, no thanks to Yeosang’s increasingly invasive questions. “Yes, it is. But I didn’t mean for you to ask this many questions.”

“I would never do anything without feelings being present,” Yeosang answers after heaving a deep sigh. “I ask questions because I’m your friend, and as your friend, I worry. So just let me ask questions and worry about the two of you since you are my closest friends.”

“That’s probably a smart decision,” you mutter as you mull over the first half of Yeosang’s words.

“You aren’t going to make the smart decision though, are you?” When you refuse to answer, Yeosang sighs and turns away from you. “Y/N, I guarantee that you will regret this an–”

“It’s fine. Nothing bad will happen.”

“That’s what everyone says before something bad happens.”

“I trust Mingi with my life. Is that not enough?” You counter, arms coming up to cross over your chest. Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut, but you catch him rolling his eyes just before he closes them.

“I understand that, and I know you do. This is something serious. You should feel something for the person you’re giving all your firsts to.”

“There are feelings there,” you snap back.

“Romantic feelings, Y/N. You can’t tell me that you have any of those for Mingi because I know that you don’t.”

“And? Your point? I won’t be giving all my firsts to Mingi anyway.” As your defensive state grows stronger, Yeosang’s disappointment does too. He pokes his tongue out to drag over his lower lip. When he looks back at you, you almost wish he hadn’t so that you didn’t have to see the sadness on his expression.

“I don’t want to argue with you… especially not over something like this,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to comb through his hair. “I trust you, but I hope you will make the right decision about this. Not one that your body wants, but one that your heart wants.”

“I will,” you whisper back, all the fire and anger gone from your tone.

“I just don’t want you to regret anything, Y/N. Or for this to harm your friendship with Mingi.” The words spark an unprecedented amount of anger in you, and you drop your arms to your side.

“You don’t know the type of friendship I have with Mingi. It won’t ruin anything.”

Yeosang doesn’t get the chance to respond because Mingi comes back from the bathroom at that moment. He glances over you and Yeosang. If he notices the spike in tension between you two, he neglects to comment.

“I think I’m going to head home,” you mutter as you try to collect yourself. Mingi’s eyes rake over you in attempts to understand where your sudden departure is coming from. You don’t look back; instead, you stare straight ahead at Yeosang.

“O-Okay, do you want me to walk you out or…?” Mingi trails off. He fiddles with his hands, picking at a loose nail with little interest as he watches you.

“No, I told her I would walk her out,” Yeosang cuts in, finally looking away from you to nod at Mingi.

“Oh, cool. Uh, I’ll text you later, Y/N.”

“Yea, see ya. Tomorrow, I guess? I’ll text you.” You pull yourself away from the counter. Yeosang follows you out of the apartment, hot on your heels as you leave. It’s only when the door snaps shut behind the two of you that he opens his mouth to speak again. You cut him off before he gets the chance. “I don’t need you to worry about us.”

“I — I know you don’t, but you don’t get to decide when I care and when I don’t. I do. I care, and since I care, I’ll worry about you regardless.”

“I know,” you mutter, turning away from Yeosang before he catches the frown on your lips.

“I won’t lecture you to oblivion again, but… I just want you to be careful. I’m scared you’ll get in too deep or regret doing something with him. I know I’ve done that in the past. It’s not a matter of trusting you or trusting him. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

You moisten your lips as Yeosang speaks and mull over the words. Part of you feels bad for jumping down his throat so quickly like you did. You extend a hesitant hand to grip his bicep, squeezing around his shirt.

“Thank you for looking after us.”

“You’re my friends. I would be a pretty shitty person if I didn’t.”

“Still… I’m grateful that you’re looking out for us.”

“I sense a ‘but,’” Yeosang states, shrugging your hand off his arm.

“We’re being careful, that’s all.”

“If you say so.”

You and Yeosang exchange a prolonged stare, then you reach forward to pull the taller man into your arms. He hugs you back with equal enthusiasm, folding his arms around your waist and pressing his face against your shoulder.

“I love you, Yeosang.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

⁂    ⁂    ⁂

You should know how long it’s been by now. Emphasis on should because you most certainly do not know how long you and Mingi have been exercising your arrangement, and things have escalated in a way you did not expect.

In short, the two of you have gotten bold beyond belief. You barely wait to see if Yeosang is home before going at each other, and that’s not even the worst part.

Last week, Mingi fingered you during movie night with Yeosang. It was awkward, he fumbled a lot and had trouble finding the right angle, but once he did, you had to bite on a pillow to keep from screaming out.

Two days ago, you gave Mingi a handjob in the back of a lecture hall. Yeosang was one seat over. God knows what was going through your mind at that moment because that had to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. The thrill and rush it gave you was sweet, but as you look back at it, you only feel the hot burn of shame.

And now. This is the worst thing that has happened yet because Yeosang walked in just as Mingi was slipping one hand down your pants. Needless to say, the two of you detached quicker than imaginable. That didn’t stop Yeosang from seeing exactly what was going on, and your whole body burns with the embarrassment of being caught in the act.

“Mingi, you were gonna take me home?” You inquire, turning to the man even though he agreed to no such thing. It’s a desperate attempt to get out of this awful and awkward situation you just put yourself in. Mingi doesn’t seem to realize that right away though, and he blinks back at you with inquiry in his gaze.

“O-Oh? Was I?”

You send a pointed glare his way, and he straightens his back as he realizes what’s going on. You can feel the heat of Yeosang’s presence nearby. Even though he doesn’t say anything, you can sense the disappointment radiating off his body in waves. This is precisely what he was telling you to avoid. Yet here you are. Doing just that after telling him that you had it under control.  

“Yes, I was. I remember now. Yeo, can I borrow your car?”

Yeosang’s glare lingers on you. He doesn’t respond for a few moments, and you think he’s going to say no at first. Then he tosses his bundle of keys towards Mingi.

“Fill it up with gas on your way back.” Tone cold and flat. It almost hurts to hear, but Mingi still seems to be oblivious to what’s happening.

“Will do!” Mingi catches the keys with ease. You step around Yeosang to move towards the door. He seems to want to say more to you, but Mingi’s presence deters him. Either way, you’ll get a text from him later tonight saying that he’s sorry and didn’t mean to offend you or snap at you. That’s just how your relationship with Yeosang operates.

Mingi grabs your hand before you’re even out the door, threading his fingers through yours. You dare to glance back at Yeosang. His stare lingers on your joined hands with even more sadness than before.

“So, why am I taking you home?”

“Because, uh, I-I…” You trail off, hurrying to figure out some sort of excuse to get away from Yeosang. “I’m exhausted? Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“You know you could spend the night with me. We do that… all the time.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna get home. I haven’t been home in hours. Need to feed the cat next door too.” It’s a lie, but Mingi’s eyes light up at the mention of the pet.

“Oh, is Mrs. Parks out of town again?”

“Y-Yep, but I’ll take care of it, so you don’t have to come up!” Mingi frowns at your words, and guilt twinges in your gut a little. It doesn’t last long because the chilly air outside nips at your skin and pushes the feeling away.

You climb into the passenger seat as Mingi gets in on the driver’s side. As soon as you’re settled in the seat, a hand comes down on your thigh. You flinch at the sudden sensation and glance over at Mingi. He acts as though he hasn’t done anything, hand resting on the inside of your thigh and making you look small under him. You won’t admit it to him, but it makes your gut pool with arousal. Mingi pulls out of the parking lot, driving with one hand so that he can keep the other pressed against your thigh. You want to question it and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but you can barely form a coherent thought. The simple action has you in shambles, and he isn’t even doing anything.

The drive commences in silence, the radio blares in the background, and Mingi occasionally drums the beat of the songs against your leg. You are trying your best to not think about it and just wave it off as a silly and harmless action. Emphasis on try, because every single time you begin to squirm under Mingi’s grip, he smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing and isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he does.

When he pulls the car into your apartment complex, you don’t get out immediately. Partially because it feels awkward considering what went down in his apartment earlier, and mostly because his hand is still clamped around your thigh. You glance over at him and open your mouth to ask if something is wrong, but Mingi dips in before words get out. His lips hit yours in a mess of teeth and saliva, and you nearly bite the tip of your tongue off. It’s harsher than your first kiss; Mingi puts a lot more force into this one. You respond with an equal amount of ferocity though and reach down to undo your seatbelt. Mingi does the same, leaning into the kiss as he’s freed from the belt's restrictions.

You only part once you run out of breath, still awkwardly holding each other’s faces as you pant into the other’s mouth.

“You never got to try that thing you mentioned earlier…” Mingi trails off, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. You’re caught off-guard, however, completely unaware of whatever he’s talking about. That’s when it hits you. Before Yeosang came into the apartment, you told Mingi that there was something you wanted to try.

“A-Ah, yeah, th–well, yeah. I can — I can try it now maybe.” You stammer your way through the response and try to swallow the bundle of nerves that hits your throat.

“Y-Yeah, go for it. Just… go for it.” Mingi pulls away from you and puts his hands up awkwardly. You aren’t sure what you’re doing either, so you look equally as stupid. Mingi must be aroused from just the minimal kissing because there is a prominent bulge in his pants, and that’s precisely where you reach next. You place a shaky hand over his clothed erection. Mingi’s legs spread further open when you touch him, and you take it as an invitation. You reach for the button of his pants, popping it open, then you tug the zipper down.

Your motions are slow and calculated. You watch Mingi’s face for a reaction with each shift, delighted with the hiss that escapes him as you reach under the band of his underwear and grip his semihard member. You pull the underwear down just enough to expose his cock to the air and your eye. You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you’ve never thought about Mingi’s size — but his girth alone is enough to make you choke on air. You tighten your grip on his cock.

This isn’t the first time you have given Mingi a handjob. It is your first time seeing his cock head-on like this though, because he usually keeps it in his pants whenever you jerk him off. Your intention now is a little different, and you’re nervous about going through with the idea considering his size. You swallow your nerves and lean across the seat to press your lips over the head of his member.

Two months. Now you remember how long it’s been. Because you have spent the past two months reading articles, watching porn, doing anything you can to learn what the hell you’re supposed to do. It’s your first blowjob. Sure, Mingi has never had one, so he won’t know the difference between a good one and a bad one, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to do a good job.

You start with a few kitten licks to the head of his cock, blinking up at it through fluttering lashes, then you slowly lower your mouth to encompass his shaft. He stretches your lips nicely; it isn’t painful or unimaginable as you initially thought it would be. However, you know that there is no way in hell that you are getting his whole member in your mouth. That’s off the table. He would be halfway down your throat if you tried to do that.

Instead of taking in as much as you can right off the bat, you start small, worshipping the tip of his cock with kisses and licks. He tastes salty; each bead of precum that leaks from his slit is less salty than the last, but you might just be getting used to the taste. You let your tongue explore his length. It runs down to follow the lines of his veins, tracing the tip before dipping back down to run the flat of your tongue over the underside of his cock. It’s heavier than you anticipated, but you have nothing to compare it to, so you can only assume that this is normal.

You begin to bob your head a bit more as you gain some confidence. Mingi releases small groans when your teeth graze his sensitive skin. The sounds encourage you to increase the frequency of your movements. Soon enough, you have to hold your hair back because you’re bobbing up and down too quickly on his cock. Mingi’s moans increase in volume as you continue. That makes you feel a little bit proud because you’re only halfway down his member. You dare to go a little further though, pushing your tongue out further and wetting the next quarter of his dick. As you dip lower, he hits the back of your throat. It triggers your gag reflex in an instant, and you gag around his dick. The sensation must feel good to Mingi because he releases a particularly filthy moan.

You have to pull off before continuing though. You can barely breathe, and nearly gagging on him made you want to throw up. Mingi watches you with eyes filled with lust and desire as you heave a few deep breaths. Slowly you return to his erect member, holding it by the base before pushing your lips back over him. This time, Mingi holds your hair back for you. His fingers entangle in your strands, staying close to your scalp as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. He touches the back of your throat again. This time you are more prepared for the sensation, but it doesn’t keep you from gagging again. Mingi’s hips jerk as you gag around him. He unintentionally bucks up into your mouth, causing you to choke further. A small noise of indignation escapes you, and you groan around him. Again, that must bring Mingi pleasure, because he shifts his hips back.

You smack his thigh when the grip on your hair doesn’t let you up for air. Mingi gets the hint immediately and lets you pull off him. A disgusting amount of saliva connects your lips to his cock. It must look filthy and perverse beyond belief, but Mingi’s dick twitches as you make eye contact with him, spit covering your lips and eyes watering. You swallow roughly. Surely Mingi is getting close to cumming; at least you hope he is because you aren’t sure that you particularly enjoy having a dick in your mouth.

The idea of pleasuring him outweighs your disdain, and you bend back over him to swallow as much of his cock as possible. You make it further than last time, still gagging a little, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before, so you’re more comfortable continuing it. You bob along his member, and he helps you along a little by grabbing hold of your hair again. He guides your movements like that. Every once and awhile, Mingi will buck his hips up into your mouth and hit the back of your throat harder than before. You have to push the discomfort aside because you’re too damn determined to bring an orgasm over him.

It works at long last after a few seconds of holding you on his cock. You pull off, gasping for air, and Mingi cums in that moment. His seed hits your face, and it’s a good thing that you had your eyes squeezed shut because he would have popped you in the eye if not. You flinch at the contact. It’s as warm as always, but that doesn’t mean you want it on your face. Mingi cusses under his breath as he rides out the orgasm, voice low and gravelly. You shift to look in the back seat, find a random sweatshirt under one of the seats, and use that to wipe your face clean. You can still smell it, but at least you don’t have to feel it on your skin anymore.

Mingi blinks at you in wonder as you sit back in your seat, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“So…?” You trail off. You are a bit embarrassed to ask him what he thought, but you might have to get the words out anyway because Mingi blinks back at you with a dumb expression on his features. “Was i-it — was it good?”

“Fuck yes,” he mutters, releasing another groan. He quickly shoves his softening member back into his underwear and zips his pants back up. You swallow around nothing. “That was… wow. Wow. Damn.”

“Good! Good, yeah – uh, yeah, I’m glad.” You nod awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye all of a sudden. It’s strange how sometimes you can handle the embarrassment of your arrangement with such grace and ease, and other times you can’t even look at your hands. “Well, I’m gonna – I’m gonna go up now. I guess. Yeah.”

“Oh, o-oh, yeah, okay!” Mingi stammers as you motion over your shoulder. He nods along with you then rushes to hit the unlock button on his door. “You… uh, have a nice night!”

“You too, Mingi.”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Why are you still in the car? And why the hell aren’t you getting out? Two questions that you will ask yourself for the rest of your life because you aren’t sure what comes over you. All you know is that tears are hitting your cheeks, and you are having a breakdown in the passenger seat of Yeosang’s car with Mingi, your childhood best friend, and the man you just sucked off in the driver seat. It feels filthy now. You’ve never felt so disgusting in your life like you’ve crossed a line you were never supposed to cross or that you have done something you can’t come back from. All you know is that Yeosang was right.

You regret it now.

“W-What’s wrong? Y/N, hey, hey. It’s okay.” Mingi reaches forward to touch your shoulder, but you smack his hand away before he can touch you. The sharp impact echoes through the car. “Y/N… what’s going on?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Mingi, what t-the fuck are w-we doing?” Your shoulders shake as you sob into your hands. You don’t even care that you just held a disgusting sweatshirt covered in cum as you rub at the tears on your cheeks. Mingi doesn’t know how to respond. He brings his hands back into his lap and keeps them there as you continue to cry. “W-We’re so fucking dumb. Why? Why did I let you convince me to do this? Wh-Why did you even suggest it?”

“I… I thought you wanted this.”

“Why would I want this?” You shout with sudden rage. Mingi flinches at the volume of your voice, and for a split second, you feel bad. That goes away immediately though as you settle back into your anger. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You agreed to it!”

“You should have known better. You’re my best friend!”

“I told you to say no at any time. I said if you didn’t want it, we didn’t have to, I told you that. Why are you suddenly so upset now? After what? Two months? Suddenly this is the worst thing in the fucking universe?” Mingi doesn’t look at you as he hisses the words, eyes forward on the steering wheel. You’re shaking again, but this time it’s the anger that causes you to tremble. Mingi is right. You know he’s right. That’s almost more infuriating.

He gave you the opportunity to walk away, he told you that you could say no, he left the door wide open for you to go. And yet you didn’t. For what? What was all this for? For some damn experience for a guy that you know you’re never going to ask out, let alone talk to? Good fucking riddance.

You push your way out of the car, legs shaky and trembling as you go. You don’t stop to look back at Mingi as you slam the door behind you. A few seconds after you leave the car, the car horn blares. You jerk your head to look back at the car and see Mingi slam a fist against the steering wheel. It’s not hard to walk away, but each step has your legs feeling like lead in an unexpected way. It’s hard to not think about your best friend sitting in the car with tears on his cheeks like yours. It’s hard to believe that Yeosang was right, and he literally warned you that this would happen. Yet you still ignored him. Why? Why, why, why?

You’ve never felt more stupid in your life.

⁂    ⁂    ⁂

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Mingi stands across from you, arms folded over his chest as he watches you pace back and forth in your living room. You aren’t sure why you agreed to bring him here. It’s been three weeks since the two of you last spoke, three weeks since that argument in the parking lot, and you aren’t sure what it was that convinced you to come when he asked to meet. You don’t stop pacing back and forth as you recall a conversation the two of you shared shortly before your fight.

“We kiss and do all this stuff… but I don’t feel a thing.”

Your chest tightens a little, but you manage to at least maintain a straight face as he looks at you pointedly. Still, you continue your small rant with a weaker voice.

“I’ve never been sexually or physically attracted to you. And that feels wrong for some reason. It feels like I’m doing something that isn’t right. Do you get that?”

“Yea…” Mingi trails off, looking away from your face to stare at the wall instead. “Is all love like this?”

“I have no clue.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship if I’m not going to feel anything. That doesn’t sound enjoyable.”

“No, not at all.”

So why did you continue? Why the fuck did you both think it was a decent idea to let things blow up in your faces like this? Now you can barely stand to look at each other, let alone be in the same room as each other. It makes every damn class awkward and tense. Recently it’s escalated to a point where you refuse to sit near him, finding a new seat across the lecture hall just so that you don’t have to think about the things you did with him while sitting in the back. Yeosang stays at your side in those classes but casts glance after glance back at Mingi throughout the class.

It didn’t take long for Yeosang to confront you about what happened either. He first yelled at you for the sweatshirt incident, but that quickly turned into concern as he recalled the state Mingi was in when he returned home.

“What happened?”

“You were right.”

God, you almost wish that Yeosang had laughed in your face and said that he knew he was right. You just wanted him to lecture you and tell you off for what you did. Instead, you got a sympathetic sigh and disappointed stares.

“You were happier when the two of you were simply friends and nothing more.”

“I know. I knew that a while ago.”

“So why did you keep doing it?”

Why did you keep doing it? A fucking good question because you certainly don’t know the answer. You know that it became a habit in a short amount of time and quickly developed into a bad one. So maybe you have Yeosang to thank for the reason why you’re pacing in Mingi’s apartment with two fingers picking at your lower lip as though it will make you feel better. He told you that you should at least get closure. Closure for what? A ruined friendship?

“Uh, that girl… the girl I like started dating someone,” Mingi says after several minutes of silence. You whip your head to blink at him in surprise.

“And…?”

Mingi shrugs, obviously unsure of what to say next. He turns away from you. Your pacing comes to a halt at last, and you just stand in the middle of the room, staring at Mingi with glaring eyes.

“Makes me wonder, you know? What all of it was for.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep harsh words from leaving your lips. In the time apart, you have realized that not all of this was Mingi’s fault — you are at fault just as much as he is. That apology is so fucking hard to get out because you’re so upset with yourself for letting this happen.

“I’m sorry for getting us into this mess,” Mingi says, bringing a hand up to run through his dark hair. “I k-know there were th-things I sh–”

“It’s not only your fault.” You muster up enough courage to say the five words, then your voice seems to die in the back of your throat. Heaving a deep sigh, you force yourself to continue the thought. “I messed up too. I’m at fault too. I’m sorry for pinning all the blame on you. I was ashamed and embarrassed with myself and my actions, so I truly am sorry for yelling at you the way I did.”

“I… no, I did mess up a lot. Even if you agreed to it, it was still initially my fault. I-I’ve been hiding s-something from you.” Mingi’s words cause your heart to drop. You drop your arms by your side, barely able to look at his guilt-ridden face. Something tells you that you don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say.

“What the hell is it, Mingi? And why did you wait until now to mention it?”

“I – well, I was scared to tell you initially. Then I was scared to leave without having a… I don’t know a special moment with you?”

“What are you talking about, Mingi?” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden, and you don’t dare look away from the man’s face. It’s his turn to pace now, walking back and forth before you as he wrings his hands together. “Song Mingi.”

“I’m transferring to another school at the end of the week. There is no girl I’m into. Min Hyerin is just a random classmate that I thought could pass as a crush. I-I’ve kinda, uh, I’ve liked you this whole time.”

Your jaw all but drops at his sudden revelation. All the air leaves your lungs, and you can’t look at him any longer, turning to face the wall instead.

“I got scared when you were talking about liking that guy from whatever class it was. Psychology? I don’t know… I was scared, and that’s why I suggested the idea of learning together. Then when we talked about it after I while, you said that you didn’t feel a thing when we were doing things together. All the hand-holding and the kissing and the fake dates… I wanted them to be real.”

“What the fuck?” You hiss out between gritted teeth. You are trying your best to hold your tears back, but reality is catching up too quickly for you to handle. “What the actual fuck, Mingi? You — you manipulated me? I-I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to say. I just–” You can’t even finish the sentence, tears hitting your cheeks before you know it.

“I didn’t want to leave without shooting my shot at least. I’ve been planning to leave for a few months, but I was too scared to hurt you. I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Didn’t want to hurt me? You choose to manipulate me and use me for some sick fantasy of getting off to me while lying the whole time? Throwing away our relationship and using me? Abusing your position as my friend to get in my pants because you were jealous? What the fuck?” Mingi freezes under your barrage of words, seeming to shrink smaller and smaller as you continue. “If you wanted to shoot your damn shot, you should have been honest! Instead of using me and my firsts as a way of getting what you wanted! I hope your fucking happy with yourself.”

“I-I, no, I never meant to hurt you,” Mingi stammers.

“Then what did you mean to do then? Because I’m fucking confused and hurt beyond belief right now.”

“I…” Mingi trails off, unable to finish the sentence. You can barely see him through your tears, and no matter how many times you blink, you can’t get rid of them.

“Just get the fuck out. Just go. I don’t want to see you or hear you or talk to you. I don’t want you in my life anymore. Just fucking go.”

“I can’t. I can’t leave you alone like this. I–”

“Fuck off, Mingi. You can leave me alone like this, and you will. I don’t want any more damn apologies. Nothing is going to fix what you did. So just fucking go.”

Mingi stares at you for several moments without saying a word. You refuse to meet his gaze. Just thinking about being in the same room as him makes you want to vomit, and it causes a physical pain to constrict in your chest. How the hell did you end up here? Things weren’t supposed to turn out like this, things weren’t ever supposed to become this way, and yet here you are. There Mingi is. And between you — the ruins of a crumbled relationship.

And just like that, Song Mingi walks out of your apartment and out of your life, leaving a giant dork sized whole in your memories, but to you, it only feels like a waste. It was a waste of firsts and special moments. The effort put into a pointless relationship that ended in flames because you weren’t careful enough.

Perhaps one day, you will regret it and feel bad for cutting him off in such a cruel and hasty way, but you block Mingi’s number and all of his social media accounts. Yeosang gets the hint not to mention him even though he still keeps in contact with Mingi on occasion. He asked you to move into Mingi’s empty apartment space, and you said no at first. It was too much to think about, being in the same house where he lived, and it made you think about all the things you did together while there too much. Then Yeosang offered to move into Mingi’s room so that you could have his own instead, insisting that he was worried about you and wanted to at least look after you in some way. So you decided to agree and move into Yeosang’s old room. Eventually, you get used to the new arrangement and learn to deal with the bad memories that linger in your mind as you live there.

It takes time to do so – six months to be exact – with the passing of the semester and summer break and the entrance of the new school year that bleeds into the beginning of December far too quickly for your liking. It’s a cold and snowy Wednesday morning when Jung Wooyoung sits beside you in psychology, and yet it feels like nothing you’ve felt before. The cold doesn’t leave a mark on you, only Wooyoung does, a branded image over your cold heart when he turns and smiles at you, brushing long strands of black hair out of his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Jung Wooyoung. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

But I think it’s cause of me.

People do say all good things must come to an end, so you suppose that means that all wonderful things must crash and burn. At least that’s what it meant in terms of your story. Suddenly you weren’t in homeroom next to Hyunjin, and you weren’t at his house helping take care of his sweet dog. Instead you were alone in your room with your tail tucked between your legs and looking obsessively at the same picture. 

It’s a heartwarming image, two lovers in front of a neon lit diner exchanging a farewell kiss. Except one of the lovers has black hair falling to his chin and skin that's been embraced by the sun. One of the lovers has a face that you’ve kissed a hundred times. One of the lovers is Hyunjin. 

And you so badly wanted to blame anyone but him when your desk partner in English showed you the picture. You wanted to blame the other girl, you wanted to blame Hyunjins friends that appeared frequently on the opposite ends of your phone calls, you wanted to blame yourself. But there was no doubt when you asked him. He did this. And he couldn’t give you an explanation past, ‘I don’t know why.’ 

You wanted to know why. You wanted to know how he could say that he loved you on your fifth date and still do this, you wanted to know what she had that you didn’t. You wanted to know if the tears that he had shed after your confrontation were for yourself or for him. 

The worst thing that I ever did, was what I did to you.

Hyunjin didn't have a single answer to offer. He thought about it for months, he thought about it with that other girls skin beneath his hands. He thought about it while he was greedy for your company in the closing weeks of summer, because a small part of him knew that you’d find out. He knew that you’d find out, and then that you’d leave him. He deserved it. He wishes that he didn’t. 

As the months without you marched onward Hyunjin found his evenings to be sleepless. He would toss and turn for hours, but it was all useless. It’s impossible to sleep in a room where every piece of furniture and every shirt that’s hanging in the closet reminds him of you. He almost wishes that he’d never dated you, because something was always going to end up hurting you. If not in this way he would’ve found something else. Hyunjin’s still not even sure he’s worthy of hurting you. 

It’s not that he often hurts people, either. Most of his friends would say he’s a relatively kind person, he has his moments but it’s mostly just a joke taken too far that's followed quickly by apology. His eldest friend, Chan, was beyond shocked to hear about his summer mishap.

You’re just so good, and you loved him so dearly. He remembers the way that your eyes would hang onto his every word as if they’re worth something, or how you would stick your head out of the car window every time he rolled them down, or the time that you cried over a Pixar movie and then apologized profusely for ruining the date. You’re the girl they talk about in love songs, who smells of candy and whimsy. He’s nothing but a boy who would give you his entire heart. 

He wanted to call it quits before this Summer, but you swore that this could work. He was going to object before you said that you loved him and looked into his eyes with sparkly hopeful ones of your own. He could never say no to you. That was always an issue. 

It’s been months since he’s had that problem, or talked to you at all. Late Summer became early Fall, followed by Halloween and then Thanksgiving break. He spent every day missing you. He spent every day regretting his mistakes. 

The only thing I want to do

You deserve an apology. He was so dumbstruck when you confronted him that no words would come out except for ‘I don’t know.’ He couldn’t even say sorry, despite the fact that he desperately was. He’s been thinking in the past two months that you deserve an apology, he’s been thinking in the past month that he doesn’t want to be with anyone ever again. 

He knows that he should’ve considered that before ruining this. He knows that it’s a shot in the dark, but he also knows that he’ll never be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t at least try. 

Is make it up to you.

So he’s on the way to your house. It’s eleven thirty at night and the early winter breeze is nipping at his nose, and he’s rounding your street corner with a million apologies bouncing around his head. He thinks that he could tell you that she meant nothing. He thinks he could say that he never once deserved you or your love for him. He thinks that he could say that he loves you more deeply than he ever thought was possible. He thinks he could say a million things, but then you open your front door and suddenly there’s not a single word to say. 

You look the same as you did the last time that the two of you talked. Pieces of your hair are falling into your eyes, which glass over as they take in the sight before them. He thinks that he hears your breath hitch, but he also thinks that could be the sound of his own breath doing the same. You look so enchanting.

“Hyunjin?” You ask quietly. He looks so pretty beneath the light of your front porch, his summer tan gone and replaced with the natural honey tone of his skin. He looks similar to the last time that you saw him too, except for the fact that his hair is a bit shorter. It looks nice on him. Everything looks nice on him. 

“(Y/n.)” You step out of your doorway to join him on the porch while he clears his throat, “I-I-“ 

Would you have me, would you love me

It’s probably the way that you’re looking to him with the same loving eyes as always, or maybe the way that he can see your fingers fiddling with one another in an attempt to keep your mind busy, or maybe there’s no cause at all, but his words are finally found. He knows that he has to let them all out now or else they’ll be lost for good.

“I am unbelievably sorry for what happened last summer. It was a mistake on countless parts that are all mine, but you have to know that it meant nothing to me. The only place it holds in my heart is a place of regret. I regret every second of it. She means nothing to me, and you… You mean everything. To this day and for every day to come, you will mean everything to me.” His hand has somehow slipped into your own, and you can’t help but squeeze it. You think that if you don’t you'll probably cry, “A-and I’m not going to beg for you to take me back, because I know that I don’t deserve it, but I will tell you this. If you take another chance on me I will make it my promise to never let you feel hurt again. Not by me or anyone else, because I love you and never, ever, want you feel as though I don’t.”

“Then why did you do it?” Your question comes out small, spoken with a voice that's choking back tears. Silence covers the porch steps for a moment, because Hyunjin honestly doesn’t know how to answer. There’s no way to answer that’s right, or excusable, or any of the things that a satisfying answer should be. There’s only an answer that is honest.

I don’t know anything,

“I don’t know, a-and I know that’s not what you want to hear.” He swallows thickly, thumb smoothing over the top of your hand for what could be the last time. He knows that if you tell him to leave he’ll have to respect your wish, but he also knows that it will hurt him for forever. He knows that he’ll have earned it, “I-I think I knew that one day you’d find out I wasn’t good enough for you, or that I’d end up disappointing you somehow, but I can’t honestly give you a definitive answer. I don’t know. I don’t know anything, but I know I miss you.” 

You look into his deep brown eyes that are brimming with tears, and you want to tell him so many things. You want to tell him that you were never disappointed in him. Or that he was beyond good enough for you, or that he didn’t need to be for you to love him. You wanted to tell him that if he had only talked to you about his doubts then this entire situation could’ve been avoided. Instead you take his face into your hands, squeezing his cheeks ever so slightly. 

but I know I miss you.

“I miss you too.” There's silence, nothing except for two beating hearts, “Let’s try this again.” He puts his hands on your waist and you think to yourself that you’ve missed the feeling. You think to yourself that you’ve missed Hyunjin. 

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes are eager the way that you were to return home to him after Summer. They look innocent, sweet. Like he’s cherishing this as if it were his first kiss. 

“Yes.” His body is gentle when it touches yours, as though you’re likely to break. You think that it’s wise, because in a way you are likely to break. You’re patched together with band aids and medical tape like a bird that’s been rescued off the street. Hyunjin knows this, just like he’s known many things before, but he’s promised to protect you. This is a promise that he intends to keep.

Despite being completely sober the night before, you still cannot recall much of what happened prior to Seonghwa bringing you home. What happened after, however, is at the forefront of your mind, but not because you got the most mind-blowing sex of your life. You were robbed of a good fuck thanks to your roommate sitting on the couch when you stumbled into the apartment connected by the lips with Seonghwa. You feel bad looking back because you and Hongjoong had an agreement not to bring anyone home while the other was in the apartment. You overlooked that because — well frankly, you glossed over that rule because Seonghwa is just that hot, and passing up on that opportunity would have been positively tragic. While you took the chance to bring him home, you still got left feeling sorely disappointed when Seonghwa pulled you off to bed without even a quick round of sex out of “respect” for your roommate. (Hongjoong doesn’t need more respect than he gets — his ego is big enough as it is, in your opinion, but Seonghwa wouldn’t know that).

Speaking of Seonghwa, as you come more into the land of the living, you realize that the bed is only dipped under your body, and upon patting around on the mattress some, you find that Seonghwa is no longer with you. You roll onto your side to stare at the empty space next to you, and a huff of air passes through your lips without you realizing it. Seonghwa most likely left during the night, now that you think about it, since he can’t very well walk out in broad daylight without getting burnt to a crisp by sunlight. That also leaves you wondering why he got in bed with you in the first place knowing that he wouldn’t stay or sleep a wink throughout the night.

You push the thought to the back of your mind in favor of slipping out of bed, letting your nightshirt fall back to rest around the midpoint of your thighs. Standing up is a struggle in and of itself; the moment you lift your head, a searing pain shoots through your neck, and you release a small whimper as the feeling spreads to your shoulder.

Must’ve slept on my neck wrong, you think before forcing your body up and towards the bathroom. The next thing to hit you is disbelief, because walking past the mirror makes you do a double-take and choke on your saliva. A dark purple bruise encompasses the base of your neck, two identical puncture wounds flushed a deep red centered in the bruise, and you lift a hesitant hand to brush your fingers over the mark. The bite is at least closed and not oozing any blood, but it’s still ugly and unpleasant to look at. Knowing Hongjoong, he will roast you to high heaven the moment he sees the dramatic hickey, and you aren’t about to risk three weeks worth of jokes that your best friend will inevitably join in on as well.

Seonghwa could have warned you that the bite mark would be so… visible, but you honestly doubt that you would have retained that information anyway since you were preoccupied with thoughts of desire and arousal.

“Fuck,” you curse, reaching for whatever stray piece of clothing you can find to help cover the mark. You have to drag an old pair of shorts out as well and tuck your shirt up under the sweatshirt you slip over your head. Once you have amply hidden all evidence of the mark and freed (read — hopefully) yourself of Hongjoong’s ridicule, you dare to step out of your room.

The first thing to hit you is the overwhelming stench of burnt toast, but you can hardly focus on that once your eyes hone in on the man sitting at your counter. He looks so sorely out of place in your home that you have to blink a few times before you truly believe that he’s sitting there, but for once, your eyes don’t deceive you.

It is, in fact, Seonghwa sitting at your counter with your dark-haired roommate perched across from him. Hongjoong doesn’t spare you a glance as you push further into the kitchen; he maintains his unreadable stare while clenching the edge of the counter so tight that his knuckles bleed white.

“I made breakfast,” Hongjoong states once you reach his peripheral. Seonghwa shifts to glance at you, and a small smile stretches his lips. A half-full mug of what seems to be coffee before him on the marble, pale fingers tracing the rim in slow circles, and a glint to his dark eyes that has you swallowing around nothing. Even if the tension hanging between your roommate and the vampire wasn’t present, you would still feel on edge just from the awkwardness in Seonghwa’s calm actions.

“He made co—”

“I made coffee too,” Hongjoong interjects before Seonghwa can finish his thought. The vampire doesn’t seem bothered by the interruption in the slightest, and he offers a broader grin in Hongjoong’s direction. “It’s in the pot.”

“Got it…” You mumble, slipping around Hongjoong to grab for a mug. Your roommate maintains his steady stare on the man across the counter, and you only realize what he’s attempting to do once you fill your mug halfway. “I don’t think he’s intimidated by you.”

“He seems pretty intimidated to me, thank you very much,” Hongjoong scoffs. He shifts to glare daggers into the back of your head, but you merely offer a small hum of denial.

“Joong, you are as intimidating as a field mouse. I don’t think he’s scared at all.”

“Excuse you — did you forget that time a mouse crawl up Wooyoung’s pants? That was rather terrifying.” You’ve taken his full attention now, causing the man to turn to you with an expression of disbelief over his features, and you return it with a gentle smile.

“Because he shrieked like a banshee. That’s the only reason it was scary, not because the mouse itself was scary,” you reason as you try to hold back a laugh. Hongjoong’s antics have brought a welcome break in the strange and lingering tension hanging about the kitchen, and you don’t miss a beat as you return his lighthearted tone.

“I’m just saying that I am very scary, and he’s not saying anything, so that means he’s scared.”

“If he wishes to believe that he’s intimidating, then I can agree to those menial terms,” Seonghwa interrupts. His tone reminds you why you were so drawn to him the night before with its cool overtones that remain laced with a hint of sultriness in every saccharine word he speaks. You’re certain that you look a little starstruck as you stare at him now, jaw hanging agape as your eyes drag over his sharp features before lingering a bit on those cherry red lips. Maybe it’s partially due to him being a vampire but you can hardly believe that any being – immortal or not – could look so good in the morning. You shake your head free of those thoughts, trying to focus on anything but the all too good-looking vampire not too far away, and instead resume your half-hearted ridicule of your roommate.

“Oh my god. Hongjoong, oh my god, did you hear that?” You’re practically asking for him to hit you although it would be worth it just to see the man riled up a little, and Seonghwa has opened a delightful door for you to step through.

“Shut up.”

“Hongjoong, he literally said he’s gonna fake being scared of you.”

“I can’t hear you,” Hongjoong huffs, puffing his cheeks full of air. He turns back to the stove where several slices of burnt toast reside, and you know it’s an attempt to hide himself from further embarrassment.

“He pities you, Hongjoong. Oh, you poor thing, that’s so embarrassing.”

“I actually don’t have ears so I can’t hear a word you’re saying right now!”

“God, I’m so glad I’m not you. That’s — wow, I wish Wooyoung could be here to witness this.” You place a hand over your chest as you try to bite back a laugh, glancing down at the counter to keep from laughing at Hongjoong’s disgruntled expression.

“I hate it here so fucking much,” Hongjoong grumbles. “I’m thrilled that Wooyoung isn’t here. He doesn’t need any more leverage over me at this point.” You purse your lips, barely containing the roll of your eyes as you look at the back of your roommate’s head, and it’s only then that you decide to turn to Seonghwa again.

“Um, do you… need anything? I – I’m not exactly sure what you guys e-eat outside of the obvious.”

“You mean blood?” Seonghwa asks the question so casually that it catches you off-guard, and it must have the same effect on Hongjoong as well because he chokes on his coffee and sputters into his mug. “Apologies, I forget how odd that can sound to humans.”

Seonghwa releases a small laugh. He brings a hand up to his hair and combs a few fingers through the dark locks there, and you find your gaze lingering on the motion a bit too long. If the vampire notices, he opts not to say anything in favor of continuing the topic at hand.

“Some vampires opt to eat the food you all need to survive but not out of necessity.”

“Because they’re gluttons?” You inquire as you toy with the handle of your mug.

“Hm, I suppose you could say that. Sometimes it’s a curiosity to see what it tastes like, just as I’ve had humans ask to taste my blood to see the same.” You must make a face of disgust because Seonghwa huffs out a laugh again and shakes his head. Beside him on the counter, the screen of a phone flashes. A loud ding echoes through the apartment’s small kitchen, and you blink down at the phone at the same time that Seonghwa does. “Ah, as much as I would love to stay and discuss all the inner workings of vampire culture and socialization, I believe that is my cue to go.”

“Have somewhere to be?” You ask, trying not to sound too disappointed in his early departure. Seonghwa’s long fingers dance over the granite counter before latching onto his phone, and he pulls it back without looking at the screen once. Seonghwa pulls his lips into a tight smile upon meeting your curious gaze.

“You could say that. Moreso that if the sun rises any higher then I’ll be burnt worse than that toast your roommate made earlier.”

“Hey!” Hongjoong protests, turning around to face the vampire with an expression of disbelief on his features. A knock at the front door interrupts whatever words were left on his tongue, and you exchange a confused glance with him at the sound. Unless Wooyoung is dropping by for a surprise visit at a bizarrely early hour for his lazy ass, you have no idea who could possibly be outside right now. Hongjoong places his mug down on the counter before stepping around the granite to make for the door.

“That would most likely be my friend here to pick me up.” The stool under Seonghwa protests loudly as he pushes it back, letting the scraping sound of metal on wood hit your ears in the most unpleasant manner. He pauses before moving in the direction Hongjoong went in and blinks at you over the counter. “I found our time together thoroughly enlightening, Miss Y/N.”

“So formal,” you mutter back, unable to do more than nod.

“Ah, well, to be lewd, I find it quite shameful that I couldn’t provide that real fun I promised to deliver.” You can’t contain the laugh that breaches your lips.

“If that’s your definition of lewd, then you need to spend five minutes with Hongjoong and our friend Wooyoung to learn the real definition of lewd talk.”

“Is that an invitation to see you again as well, Y/N?” Seonghwa’s question sounds innocent on your ears, but the underlying sultriness lies in his gaze. You don’t miss the way his eyes flit down to the neck of your hoodie and linger there. It’s almost as though he can see straight through it and right to the blossoming mark on your skin. You squirm a bit under his stare, which seems to please him quite a bit just based on the way his brows lift and one corner of his lips tugs upwards.

“That depends,” you utter after a small struggle to formulate the words.

“On what?”

“Maybe if we happen to stumble into each other at another club I’ll see it as a sign.” You hum the words, trying to seem as noncommital as possible, and Seonghwa’s only response is a dry laugh that rings in your ears long after it ends.

“Hyung.”

You don’t recognize the voice, and that’s what causes you to whip towards the source of it. All you see is a broad set of shoulders at first with your roommate practically hidden behind the height of the man. If you thought Seonghwa was tall last night, this man nearly puts him to shame. And coupled with that obscene height is a head of blond hair that bears brown underneath, although it must be freshly bleached because you can’t spot a hint of brown at the roots near the crown of his head. While you and Hongjoong exchange shocked glances, Seonghwa doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as he grins at the newcomer and readjusts the collar of his coat.

“Yes, yes, Yunho, I’m coming. Well, Miss Y/N, I’ll wait with bated breath for you to receive that sign. Thank you for letting me stay the night here, and thank you, Hongjoong, for the coffee. The toast was…”

“Yeah, I get it! The toast was shit, you don’t need to say it again! I was a bit distracted by the fact that a damn vampire just appeared at the counter without warning.”

“Then next time I’ll be sure to say good morning before sitting down.”

“Oh no, I better not be present next time.”

Seonghwa opts not to provide a response this time; instead, he motions towards the door and allows his companion to lead the way out of your small apartment. You watch him go, eyes trailing over the vampire’s back with a strange churning rolling through your gut, and as much as you try to push it down, it persists with each step Seonghwa takes until he’s out of the apartment. The second the door snaps shut, the coil in your stomach snaps like a spell has been broken, and you have to shake your head to clear your mind of the odd haziness.

“I just know he has the biggest dick,” Hongjoong sighs, still staring at the door that’s just closed almost wistfully.

“What?” Your tone borders on the incredulous side, and you twist your expression into one of disgust as Hongjoong just shrugs. “Seonghwa?”

“What? Oh god no, not him. The one who came to pick him up. Why would I be interested in a guy who wants to fuck the likes of you?”

“Yeah well, you look like a fried piece of bread with the amount of bleach you’ve put through your hair.” Hongjoong doesn’t respond to your jab, nor does he even look at you as he taps his chin, evidently too deep in thought to spare you the smallest glance.

“I wonder how much it would take to get him to bottom for me.”

“Why did I agree to live with you?”

That’s all it takes for Seonghwa to walk out of your life just as quickly as he came into it, and you never even thought to revisit that club where you met him. Wooyoung never brought it up or invited you again, so you took it as a sign from the universe: you didn’t need him in your life. If destiny or whatever out there controls the universe didn’t put much effort into keeping him in your life, then you don’t think you need him that desperately. Life goes on just as before, and for a long while, it’s almost as though Seonghwa never existed as part of your life. Only the fading memories you share with Hongjoong remain, and the bite mark on your neck dissipates within two weeks so you could safely return to wearing something other than a hoodie around your roommate all the time. You think nothing more of it because it doesn’t strike you as something you need to cling to. That is until a little over a month passes.

↢  ♡  ↣

Park Seonghwa has suffered a lot in his lifetime. At the ripe old age of 1697, Seonghwa can very safely say that he has suffered quite a bit across all those years. And he has also made several mistakes along the way, including but not limited to biting and claiming a stranger although he hasn’t made such a mistake in at least nine hundred years. The pain never lasted long then because he had someone to bail him out of it at the time; in other words, someone went to fetch the person he claimed and brought him to Seonghwa before he could feel the full effects of withdrawal since he had no life partner at the time. He knows that he’s made a mistake now, however, because there is no one to bail him out of this, and he would like to think he has changed within three hundred years to a point where he realizes that kidnapping someone for their blood is not the answer. And out of all the members of his coven (yes, his coven, the one he raised and created himself), he knows he should be the most responsible as their mentor and elder.

So yes, Seonghwa has suffered. But never as much as he is now.

Yeosang will tear into him as soon as he figures out what’s going on, but Seonghwa at least has a bit of time to have the house to himself and suffer through withdrawal alone. It isn’t ideal in the slightest, of course; however, it is what needs to be done for the time being until Seonghwa can come up with some sort of explanation for Yeosang. He already scraped by the disapproving look Yunho sent his way at least thirty-two times in the past week alone even though it’s been around a month since Seonghwa’s little escapade with you, but thankfully the younger vampire did not utter a word past that, merely saying that he would save the lectures for Yeosang.

Seonghwa isn’t too proud to admit that he should have known better. He cannot blame it on any mortal inhibitions such as alcohol or lust — truly it was a lapse in judgment and nothing more than that.

“Master?”

Seonghwa jerks his head to find the presence who has interrupted his peace and quiet. He finds it to be Jongho, the young servant boy within his and Yeosang’s care, hand pressed to the door frame and shrouded by the yellow light filtering in from the hallway.

“Ah, Jongho. Is it evening already?” Seonghwa hums, glancing towards the drapes over the left windows.

“Have you slept at all, sir?” Jongho inquires as he steps further into the room. Seonghwa can only heave a deep sigh but says nothing else, which is an answer enough for Jongho’s question. The dark-haired man tugs the drapes back to expose the dark scenery outside the house. A bit of pale moonlight filters through and touches the floorboards.

“We've been together how long and you still can't lose the habit of calling me that?” Seonghwa jokes through his teeth.

“Give it a few hundred more years, sir. I'm sure I'll grow out of it by then.”

“Ah well, we have eternity. I suppose I can wait a bit longer. And no, I haven’t slept a wink.” Seonghwa pushes back on his heels to stand up, but he underestimates the weakness in his muscles at this stage of the withdrawal. It’s a quick fall since he’s barely up, and Jongho is quick to rush over to grab him by the arm, using those blindingly fast reflexes to catch Seonghwa just before his head hits the floor.

“This sickness can’t wait that long though,” Jongho remarks. Seonghwa struggles to ignore the warning in his tone, knowing very well that he is already bordering the precipice of a worse stage of the withdrawal in the next few days.

“I’ll be fine,” Seonghwa grits out, passing a weak glare in Jongho’s direction as the younger man tries to help him up.

“You have been telling me for three hundred years that withdrawal as a result of not having your marked one’s blood is the most dangerous thing for any vampire. No matter their age or experience.”

“Yes, but I always – ah, h-hold on, I – I need a moment,” Seonghwa pants as a sharp pain blossoms in his chest. The burn spreads to his shoulders in the blink of an eye, then all of a sudden, it’s down to his fingertips and toes. The sensation is so overwhelming that he nearly falls over once more, only kept up by the firm hand Jongho has placed on the nape of his back. The searing retreats after a few moments and pulls back into his chest. “If… Drinking the blood of your life partner — that takes away the side effects, so once Yeosang gets back from his trip—”

“Hyung…” Jongho’s tone holds too much sadness, and despite always being cold, Seonghwa finds himself hating the chill in his bones.

“I just need a bit of his blood. It’s alright.”

“You aren’t life partners anymore, hyung. We both know that natural physiology doesn’t make exceptions for these sorts of things. Besides… wouldn’t this be affecting your Marked as well?” Jongho at least remembers to ask the important questions in Seonghwa’s hazy state of delirium. The waves of pain return just as quickly as they left, and Seonghwa nearly doubles over from the strength of it.

“Yes, she’ll – she’ll be struggling by now. I have no way of contacting her so it’s out of my hands.”

“Don’t speak too soon.”

Seonghwa doesn’t need to look up to see who just stepped into the room, and neither does Jongho, but the younger of the two whips around to face the doorway nonetheless.

“Master, you’re home early.”

“Yes, all on account of a certain someone making more tragic mistakes and messes that I’m left to clean up.” Yeosang clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Seonghwa has lived several hundred more years than the shorter vampire, he’s seen more bloodshed and tragedy than Yeosang could dream of, he is the elder of the coven and Yeosang’s maker — all useless and meaningless facts in the long run because Yeosang has a nasty and peculiar habit of making Seonghwa feel small. Age truly is but a number when it comes to Yeosang because everything about him makes Seonghwa feel young and inexperienced.

“Yunho gave me all the important details. Also mentioned that he picked you up at an apartment in the city a little over a month ago. It’s safe to assume that’s where your Marked is?” Yeosang poses it as a question, but he gives Seonghwa no time to reply before he’s speaking again, that clear and sharp tone grating across Seonghwa’s ears in the worst way. “He and San departed not long ago to fetch… whoever your Marked is. They’ll be back shortly, and once again I will have fixed your mess. As usual.”

“Just give me your blood and call it a day,” Seonghwa spits out with a tad too much venom to his tone.

“You hardly have the strength to make it through another bonding process, and as I recall, we agreed to never do that again after we severed it last time.” The older of the two can’t resist the urge to huff out a laugh, and he’s certain that it’s because of the fog riddling his mind.

“Such a prude, Yeosang. You grow more cynical every year.”

Yeosang exhales through his nose. Out the corner of his eye, Seonghwa can see him bring his arms up to fold over his chest. There’s the faintest hint of affection lingering behind the disappointment in his gaze though, so Seonghwa knows that the bitter facade is merely that – a facade.

“Jongho, help him up and bring him to the dining hall. Yunho and San will meet you there when they’re back, and Mingi will join you once he’s finished unloading the new shipments of wine. I’ll be in the study if you need me. Try to make sure he doesn’t make any more rash decisions in such a short amount of time.”

“I’ll do my best, hyung.”

Yeosang offers a single nod in response before turning to leave the room, and Seonghwa blinks at the back of his dark head of hair until he’s completely disappeared.

“You two never change,” Jongho mutters as he helps Seonghwa to his feet. “I’d almost risk saying that you’re made for each other, life partners or not.” Seonghwa wishes he had the energy and strength to hit Jongho for the comment, but the younger gets away with it for now, only receiving a half-hearted glare for his words. And when Jongho grins softly at him, Seonghwa feels the slightest ounce of relief on his shoulders. Despite Yunho’s glares, Jongho’s lectures, and Yeosang’s whining, Seonghwa can rest in the fact that they care for him endlessly. That and the fact that Yunho and San will hopefully be bringing you as quickly as possible to rid him of the unending pain in his chest.

↢  ♡  ↣

a/n: okay this is somewhat a ~filler~ chapter before we really start picking up on plot points and such bUT this series will have shifting povs! and there will be 4-6 perspectives i’ll be writing from (reader, seonghwa, yeosang, hongjoong, maybe yunho as well, maybe wooyoung it depends) and this wont be a super duper long series? i’m thinking 15-20 parts or less? i am not sure yet!! we shall see! anywho i hope this is good and you guys enjoy it!