Chia Seed

The morning comes without warning. Kei thinks he’s read that somewhere, though he’s just sure just where he saw it. He also thinks that whoever said that is right. Morning is always a harsh assault and never as gentle as people describe it to be. 

Kei’s room, the one he rents at university, faces toward the east. In the mornings, when the sun peeks over the horizon, it shines directly into his room and onto his bed before creeping across the light wood floors. His blinds, as useful as they are, always let some through the cracks and the light cuts the ground like butter to a knife. Kei doesn’t think it feels half as romantic as it sounds. 

The light works better than his alarm. No matter how set he is on sleeping in, he never fails to wake up as soon as those slats of light make their way across his bedspread. It wakes him like fever and he’s never quite as comfortable as he felt falling asleep. This morning is no different. 

He rises like he always has, running a hand over his blonde hair and dragging it down his face after sitting up. Then, he stands once in an attempt to gather his bearings before sitting right back down on the edge of the bed. He fights the lingering remnants of sleep, feeling the ray of sunlight beat down on his back. Then, he reaches towards his glasses on the nightstand and slides them up the bridge of his long nose before standing up again once and for all. 

Yamaguchi lives in the other room. His best friend since high school, perhaps his only real friend. They’d miraculously attended the same college and decided to room together, though his other friends from his youth aren’t too far. The arrangement managed to make it all the way until their fourth and final year. Living with each other has become par for the course. 

Tadashi wakes up later than Kei does on most days, except for Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he has an 8 am and is usually in the kitchen before Kei has even stood up for the first time. Today is a Wednesday, so Yamaguchi is asleep in his room. The morning light doesn’t wake him the same way it does Kei. His room faces west, so it isn’t until the mid-afternoon, when Tadashi is chased from his room by the afternoon rays and heat, that he notices the sun on its blinding conquest across the sky. 

Kei’s room is clean and neat. There’s no clutter, no collection of items that don’t have a proper place. Everything is itemized and stored exactly where he intends for them to be. His floor is void of stray clothes, of socks he’d discarded the night before, his nightstand is bare and his desk is surprisingly empty save for one notebook sitting in its center. It’s a room that he could leave at any time, despite living here for nearly two years. If Kei chose to do so, he could pack his things and be gone in a day. 

Yamaguchi’s room is different. It’s lived in and well worn. There’s clutter on the floor, socks and pants he’d taken and tossed away to be dealt with later. Certain things don’t have a place and end up living on semi-crowded surfaces filled with things he likes to put down as quickly as he’d picked them up. Kei envies that way of living. A non-temporary way. He envies the rug in Yamaguchi’s room and the way he fills the space with himself. Kei thinks that even after they’re long gone, future tenants would still be able to feel Tadashi’s presence. 

To say that Kei is cynical would be accurate. He tends to lean more towards paranoia in his own strange way. He keeps things in order to quell the anxiety in it. Things stay where they are meant to be. As a result, he’s earned himself somewhat of an uptight attitude that makes Kei feel more awkward than relaxed even when he’s in his own spaces. Not that he minds it. 

Tadashi’s dish from last night is sitting next to the sink. Kei moves around it as he fixes a tea, making an effort not to drag his feet across the floor because he hates the scuffing sound. Every now and then, the glass of his mug will clink against the cheap kitchen tile and Kei will cringe in some paranoid worry that it will wake his friend. 

As he gathers his things to leave the quiet apartment, Kei wonders where his cynicism comes from. He’s sure he could pinpoint it if he tried. His parents divorce, his previous experiences with dating that have left him jaded, the holes that wore even in his most sturdy of sweaters. Inconsequential nothings that piled up until Kei had developed an undeniably cautious outlook on the world. To him, all of these things are the same. Like the morning, they’re intrusive and unsightly, but none is less important than the other. 

Kei does have things he likes. Art, for one. He likes paintings, sculptures, little pieces of history, and all of the things people make with their hands that he could never do. Kei is hopeless at crafts. His fingers are lithe and long, but they’re clumsy and hard to control. Despite his need for order, Kei has trouble controlling his urges. The subtle twitches of his fingers always mess up whatever it is he’s trying to craft. 

He likes writing best of all, specifically curatorial writing. It’s easy for him to pick which pieces belong together and how to organize them in a space, it suits his talent for compartmentalizing. Kei gets to tell a story that way, be it historical or artistic, sometimes both. The essays that his classmates find tedious, he finds relaxing despite the stress. For him, writing about art and history is a pleasure much like sipping tea that is the perfect temperature, unintrusive and natural. 

By the time he arrives at the library, it’s nearly 9 am. He works better here, in the quiet section at a table hidden by three tall shelves of books. It’s almost never occupied and there are hardly ever people seated in the immediate area. Kei doesn’t go out of his way to avoid others, but he finds that if he doesn’t approach people, they often won’t approach him. He prefers things this way, it makes the good and bad people easier to weed out. 

From this spot in the library, Kei can see where you usually set up shop for the day. You arrive after him by about 45 minutes and he convinces himself that it is always coincidental. 

Strictly speaking, you’re Tadashi’s friend, not his. You’ve known each other for a little under a year and have been by the apartment a few times, but yours and his conversations are limited entirely to pleasantries. How are you? What are you working on? We’re graduating soon, huh? Casual conversation that Kei can weasel his way out of at any time. Like his room, it’s impermanent. 

Kei has had the idea that nothing stays stuck in his head since middle school. The house he lived in when his parents were together, weekdays with his mother and weekends with his father, graduating seniors, the apartment he lives in now. To Kei, all of it is so temporary that he finds it difficult to get attached to it, not that he’s devoid of emotion. He quite loves the little things he has, but his grip on them is loose and half-hearted. Whatever leaves, Kei thinks is meant to leave, so he makes no effort to hold on. 

It’s probably unfair to think of you that way, but Kei can’t really help it. He can’t change what he is. Besides, it’s not as if he doesn’t have a reason to think so. He’s often approached by people for his looks, people who want to get close because they think he’s tall and handsome, people who collect others like trophies. He’s not heartless, so he’s been hurt more than a few times. Kei thinks he owes it to himself to be cautious, not that you’ve done anything to earn that type of subtle hostility. 

“Thought you might be here,” someone’s hand lands on his shoulder. 

“Shit,” he groans, “is it that late already?” 

Kei glances down at the watch on his wrist, reading the time as just past 10:45 am. He’s been here for an hour and 45 minutes and hasn’t gotten anything done. Tadashi pulls the chair next to him out and sits down, resting his chin on his hand. 

“Spacing out?” 

“A little,” Kei responds, tapping his pen against the table and turning back toward his book. 

“Got something due?” 

“Yeah, on Friday,” he exhales. “Haven’t started it yet though. You?” 

“Nah,” Tadashi smiles. “I’m just chasing you around.” 

“You’re like a girl with a crush.” 

Tadashi shrugs and lets out a good natured laugh. It’s a little too loud for this part of the library, but Kei lets it slide, smiling with his friend. 

Tadashi is the opposite of him, he thinks. He smiles often and says exactly what’s on his mind when it crosses it, even if it's a little mean. Tadashi used to be a follower, but in his final year of high school and university years, grew into someone befitting of his somewhat sunny and sarcastic personality. Thoughts and words come easily to him and he has no trouble vocalizing his joy or his disappointment. 

Yamaguchi has freckles covering the entirety of his body. Kei knows this because he’s seen far more of Tadashi than he thinks he should have. His skin is tawny and warm like him. Kei finds himself looking at the ones on his hands as Yamaguchi begins to write in his notebook. Kei can’t read his handwriting because it’s terrible and he doesn’t much feel like working on his own project, so he watches his friend’s hand mark the page. Then, his gaze slinks across the library to you. 

You’ve got your head down and look like you’re falling asleep despite it only being 11 in the morning. Your hand moves lazily across your computer keypad. By the time Kei realizes that you’ve spotted him staring, it’s too late to look away. His gaze was too intentional, so he smiles at you instead, nodding his head a little. 

You smile and wave, standing from where you sit and collecting your things. They fill up your arms because you don’t bother to put them in your bag, making your way clumsily across the room and setting your stuff down across from him. 

“Hi, Tsukishima,” you smile. “Hi, Tadashi.” 

You use his friend’s given name and Kei feels a pang of jealousy hit his chest. 

“How long have you been here? I didn’t see you,” you ask, settling into the seat across from Kei. 

“I just got here,” Tadashi smiles, looking up from his notes. “He’s been here for a while though.” 

Tadashi motions towards him. 

“Aw, why didn’t you say hi?” 

“You seemed busy,” Kei lies. 

You pout, filling your mouth with air. “Next time just come say hi, ‘kay?” 

“Sure,” Kei nods. 

Tadashi tosses him a sideways glance and Kei shrugs it off. He’s not interested in being teased this morning, though when is he ever. 

Kei doesn’t like the way you make him feel. When you’re around, he becomes prickly. It sets Kei on edge in a way that he hates. His world, previously so rigid and organized, quickly begins to feel cluttered and structureless. 

You make his heart pound. You make it hammer against his chest so hard that he can feel it in his ears and behind his eyes. It goes all the way down to his already-hard-to-control fingertips and the tops of his thighs. A previously pastel colored world goes vibrantly candy-colored like it’s been plunged in saturating liquid. He nevers knows how to hold himself, never knows how to act natural. What does it mean to act natural, anyway? How should he rest his hands on the desk? Would it be weird to lace them together? Does he look as stiff as he feels? It’s entirely possible that he is suffering a massive heart attack. 

You whisper across the table to Tadashi, leaning forward and laughing at something he’s written in his notebook. You can read his handwriting, something Kei is equally jealous about as he is angry. Kei just watches your conversation, unable to really listen into it on account of the stroke that he thinks he’s having. 

The three of you stay like this for a while, earning the occasional irritated whisper or dirty look from some of the more studious people in the library. Kei pretends to ignore them, remaining quiet throughout the duration of your study session with Tadashi. His quiet corner is invaded and painted bright pink with your presence and he doesn’t know whether to feel giddy or irrationally angry. Maybe it’s both. 

“Crap, is that the time?” Tadashi exclaims, hunching over himself when someone nearby shushes him. “I’ve got class across campus in 10 minutes.” 

He hurriedly collects his things. Tadashi does it so fast, in fact, that Kei hardly has time to beg him not to leave him alone with you. So he just watches as Tadashi throws his things clumsily into his bag and tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Bye, ___,” he says in a rushed whisper. “I’ll see you at home, Kei!” 

“Sure,” is all that Kei can muster. His voice cracks when he says it and he immediately avoids looking at you and stares at nothing in particular in his textbook. 

It’s quiet for a while. Kei pretends to busy himself by glancing between his textbook and his computer and you sit with your head bowed as you take notes on a lecture you’re listening to through the single earbud in your right ear. Then, you tap the end of your pen lightly on Kei’s notebook to get his attention. 

It’s only been about 10 minutes since Tadashi left, but the library now feels like an entirely different place. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep a straight face. 

When he looks up, you’re looking at him with a tilted head. Your expression is soft and unintrusive, friendly but a bit guarded. You smile softly at him. 

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” You ask gently. It doesn’t sound accusatory, but rather a casual statement tinged with friendliness. 

“Huh?” Blood rushes into his ears. 

“I just kinda get the impression that you’re uncomfortable around me,” you say. “Am I wrong?” 

“Uh, no- it’s not that I don’t like you.” 

He’s quick to correct you and he feels heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Then what?” you question lightly. There’s no ulterior motive behind your smile, Kei can tell, but your openness makes him uneasy. 

“I dunno,” he calms himself a little. “I don’t really know how to act around you, I guess.” 

You laugh, leaning back into your chair. “Is that all?” 

“Well, yeah…” he feels awkward and his palms are sweaty. He drops them below the table to wipe them. “You’re Tadashi’s friend and I’m pretty different from him so I just…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

“I was worried you hated me,” you smile, chuckling to yourself. 

“That’s definitely not it,” he loosens a little, smiling lightly despite the thudding of his heart. It slows down steadily. 

“I’m your friend too, ya know?” 

“That so?” 

“Well, yeah,” you shrug and lean all the way back, crossing your arms. “I just kinda figured that we would be.” 

“Friends?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His word placement is awkward. 

“Duh,” you laugh a little. “You know, you don’t have to speak formally with me.” 

“That’s just the way I am,” he huffs at being read. 

“Well, you can drop them with me. I don’t mind.” 

“Tall order,” he snorts. 

You tilt your head to the side. “Did you just make a joke?” 

“Uh, yeah…” 

“Funny,” you smile. “What are you studying?” 

“It’s not really studying…” he says, glancing down at the near empty document. “I’m supposed to be writing an essay I have due on Friday. Not going well.” 

He looks up at you through his lashes. You’re leaning forward across the table now, your chin angled upward as you try and peek at what’s on his screen. He turns it so that you can see better. 

“Baroque art?” You read aloud. “Oh yeah, Tadashi mentioned that you’re an art history major. Do you draw too?” 

“No,” he scoffs. “I’m hopeless at it, but I like art. It’s nice to look at.” 

“Huh, you look like you’d be good at drawing,” you say. 

“What’s that mean?” 

“I dunno, like a manga author or something,” you shrug. “You’ve got nice hands too. Like an artist.” 

“Manga?” He laughs a little, trying to play off the color he feels rushing to his face from the compliment. 

“Yeah, you look like the manga type.” 

“Is it the glasses?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you laugh. 

Kei looks down at his hands. They’re big, like the rest of him, and his knuckles are thin. He’s hyper-aware of them now that you’ve complimented them. He studies them briefly, following the barely visible veins up the back of them, following the line of his fingers to his nails. They’re trimmed and somewhat well kept, save for the spots that he tends to bite at when he lays in bed at night. His hands look nothing like Tadashi’s. Tadashi’s fingers are thick and his nails are short on account of him biting them. Kei wonders if you prefer them to his. 

—

There’s a notebook that Kei likes on his desk. It’s only a bit bigger than his fist—a little thing, really—and it’s completely blank. Kei’s never written anything down in it, nothing has ever really been worth sullying the thing. It’s got brown fabric binding and a semi-thick cover. It’s malleable, but not so flimsy that he’d need a desk to write in it. 

Kei’s not too sure why he bought it in the first place. Maybe he liked the size of it, small enough to fit in his pocket, but not so small as to be ridiculous. It’s practical, much like he is. He’s considered turning it into a daily planner and putting to-do lists in it, but Kei isn’t much of a list guy, it’s Tadashi that likes making lists. Nothing has ever really felt like it suits the book. He’s considered journaling in it, but his life is one big routine and he doesn’t think there’s anything worth writing about. 

No matter what he does, nothing is good enough to put a permanent mark into the thing. Even if he used a pencil, Kei feels like the evidence of the mark would still be there even after erasing it, a molecular change that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Kei calls it the notebook theory. 

He thinks that might be what’s happening to him. A molecular change, imperceivable to someone not looking at him under a microscope. It’s like his DNA is being rewritten and stitched together with bright pink yarn. He feels himself steadily come apart and come together. It’s uncomfortable, like trying to dream when he has a fever. 

Kei is nearly certain that you’re the reason, not that he’s about to admit to anyone else that he likes you. Tadashi managed to weasel it out of him, though he didn’t really have to ask. In fact, it was less of an admittance to Kei than it was confirmation of his own feelings. If Tadashi can tell that he likes you, then he must. 

People seem to know things about Kei before he even knows them himself. At least, that’s how it seems. He’s always confronted with his own feelings by other people, not that they’re really ever wrong, but it seems everyone catches onto what he’s feeling rather quickly. He’s not too sure why that is, maybe he’s just obvious and hasn’t realized it. 

Come to think of it, when Tadashi had confronted Kei about his feelings for you, he’d been deeply annoying about it. Kei couldn’t even try to deny it because Tadashi had come out with his guns blazing, cornering him in the living room and throwing facts about you at him until his face was beet red with embarrassment. Then, with a serious frown on his face, he’d simply stated you like them and that was the end of it. Kei couldn’t even deny it. Even he knew that it read plainly in his expression. 

To be frank, it sucks being told in plain speech how he feels about someone. Whenever that happens, it makes Kei feel like he’ll never be able to keep another secret in his life. Sometimes, he wishes that he was able to make the decision to tell someone else on his own, but even Kei knows that that is a little beyond him. Kei can think the feelings just fine, but when it comes to speaking them aloud, he seems to have a padlock around his throat. 

Tadashi knows this about him and if it weren’t for him, Kei would have agonized far longer and far worse over certain situations of emotional turmoil. Most of the time, Tadashi gets it without needing to ask or say anything. It’s nice to have someone understand him in that way, even if it does mean he can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Feelings lately make Kei a little angry. He’s always known that he’s had somewhat of a sour personality. Kei doesn’t need to be told that he’s smug to know that he is. He’s snarky and usually touchy, picky about the people that he hangs out with. It’s not really a secret that Kei is a hard person to get along with, but lately, he feels like it’s been worse. 

Maybe it’s because this is new territory to him. As conceited as it sounds, Kei has never liked someone first. It’s not because he doesn’t think anyone is worthy, but rather, because there are very few people he doesn’t find grating. Despite how he seems, Kei is incredibly sensitive about things, so naturally, it’s easier to get on his nerves. 

He’s dated before, though not for long, and all of his relationships have started the same way. Kei is approached by them, usually on the premise of looks, and he accepts. He’s not sure why he does. Sometimes it’s because he thinks they’re pretty, other times it’s because the romantic in him hopes that it will actually work out. It never has. 

Most of the time, Kei turns out to be different than they expected. He’s too touchy, too sarcastic, too awkward in his way of trying to love. To Kei, it has always felt like it’s ended just as he was beginning to develop real feelings. 

If he’s being honest, it’s given him a twisted inferiority complex. He’s worried that somehow, on a fundamental level, he’s not enough. Sometimes, it even goes so far as for Kei to think that he’s just generally disappointing. He tries not to be. Kei wants to be relied on. He wants to be someone his friends can go to when they need something sturdy. 

Despite his personality, Kei considers himself sturdy. Well, maybe stubborn is a better word. Kei considers himself stubborn enough to be made sturdy. He’s just a little awkward. That’s all. People seem to mistake that for being unreliable. It’s a peeve of Kei’s. 

Tadashi isn’t like that. Tadashi is bright and warm, reliable in every sense of the word. Kei actually looks up to him a lot, not that he’d ever say anything like that to his face. Sure, Tadashi’s not perfect, but at least people rely on him. At least Kei relies on him. 

Tadashi is more easy going than Kei is. He has an easier time going with the flow, which makes him more personable. Kei thinks that Tadashi is the closest thing that he’s had to a better half. In truth, without Tadashi around, Kei isn’t exactly sure what would have become of him. 

It’s pointless thinking about these sorts of things though. Kei realized a long time ago that thinking about being better won’t automatically make him better. This is just the way he is and Kei’s learned to accept that, whatever it means. Still, none of this changes the fact that he likes you. 

Kei could mull over thought after thought and he doesn’t think it would have any effect on the fact that he’s definitely developed a crush. He’s positive it will go away. In fact, he’s not even sure if it’s real. Maybe Kei is just jealous of you the same way he’s jealous of Tadashi. You’re bright and warm like he is. You and Tadashi are cut from the same cloth, so maybe that’s why the two of you get along so well. 

In all honesty, Kei wishes he could be a little more like Tadashi for that reason. Maybe if he were more like Tadashi, he’d have the courage to fully accept these new and uncertain feelings for what they are. But he doesn’t have that kind of courage, not right now at least. He doesn’t have the courage to solidify and lean into his feelings. Kei doesn’t want to risk what little comfort and security he has. If the relationship between you both is a blank page, Kei doesn’t have anything important to write. What if it ruins the paper? What if when he erases it, it changes the thing on a molecular level for the worse? The notebook theory. 

— 

Despite everything, Kei is rather self-aware. At least in his own head he is. Kei knows that when he pretends he doesn’t like you, he really ends up liking you more. He knows that he’s touchy, that he’s awkward, that he comes across more crass than he intends to. Kei is clumsy, not stupid. That doesn’t mean that he has to acknowledge it. 

You’ve been coming around more often since the conversation Kei had with you in the library. Maybe you’re more comfortable now knowing that he doesn’t hate you, so you’re happier to join Tadashi in their shared apartment. 

Kei feels bad about making you think that he hates you. Actually, he feels really bad about it. Like, astronomically bad about it. Embarrassingly enough, it actually keeps him up at night. So he goes out of his way to be a little nicer to you. The only other person he’s ever done that for is Tadashi. 

He greets you properly when you pass, despite the flare up of a medical condition he’s yet to fully diagnose brought on by your presence. He asks you questions about your studies, partially because he is genuinely curious and partially because he doesn’t want you to hate him. He thinks he’d die if you hated him. Kei’s being brave in his own way. It’s little, but he’s doing it. 

As a result, the two of you have grown a little closer. Kei has your phone number now, though he rarely has any reason to text you. Typing out a message to you makes him nervous. It makes him red in the face when you’re not even there. Somehow, having your phone number feels vulnerable to him, like he has access to you whenever he wants and you him. It means that if you wanted, you could make him nervous without even being nearby. That’s a lot for Kei to think about. 

Kei sees you in the library sometimes too, but he never takes the initiative to speak to you. You always come up to him first, clumsily gathering your things the way you did the day you and him sorted out your friendship and plopping them down in front of him. 

Sometimes, you both go several hours without saying anything to each other. Other times, you’ll chat away about something while leaning forward on the desk and Kei has to pretend that he’s not wildly nervous at your proximity. You’re so friendly. So genuinely warm that Kei can physically feel it when you talk. Despite his nerves, Kei would describe you as comfortable. You’re a comfortable person to him, as alarming as that is. 

His crush is out of hand. It scares him, not that he’s actively thought about that. What started as him noticing you has quickly ballooned into him being painfully aware of you at all times. He kind of feels bad about it. You don’t seem to think that he’s anything more than a friend and it makes Kei feel bad that he thinks of you as anything but that. He doesn’t want you to be just a crush to him. Kei wants you to be like Tadashi, someone he can rely on and be comfortable with. He almost feels like he’s reversed what’s been done to him his whole life, like somehow he’s only become your friend because he wants something more. 

Truth is though, he doesn’t want anything more. Kei wants to stay exactly where he is. He doesn’t want his crush to develop any further. He doesn’t want to confess, he wants to forget. Even now, sitting on a couch in the library, he wants to imagine he doesn’t feel anything at all for you.  

“Hey, are you okay?” You tilt your head at him. 

“Huh? Me?” He questions. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You seem a little distracted,” you smile. “You’ve been staring at your computer for like… 10 minutes with this blank look on your face.” 

“You’ve been staring at me for 10 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow, trying to play off the embarrassment of being caught like that. 

“Not staring at you,” you huff, “but I definitely noticed.” 

“Ha, creep,” he tilts his head up a little, blowing air out of his nose. 

“You’re twisted, you know?” 

“Whatever,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks back at his computer screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head and smile before looking down at your work. 

Tadashi has said the same exact thing to him before. In highschool, after Kei had made a joke about his teammate Hinata’s height, Tadashi had given him a look and snorted that he’s so twisted. He’s been hearing that sort of thing his entire life. 

“Hey, are you cool if I skip out of here early?” You ask a few moments later. 

“Oh, yeah sure. I don’t mind,” he nods, hiding his disappointment. “I didn’t realize that we had like… set times to be here.” 

You laugh lightly. “Well, we don’t, but we tend to come and go at the same time, no? I kinda look forward to it.” 

Kei envies your honesty. You’re so honest all of the time. You say what you feel when it pops into your head. He wishes he could be like that, maybe then he would be able to say that he does too. Instead, he just nods and swallows his heart back down. You smile at him again and then gather your things. 

“You’ll be home on Friday night, right?” 

“Uhm, yeah? Why?” 

“Tadashi invited me and a few friends over, did he tell you?” 

“I think he mentioned it.” Kei has actually been thinking about it for the last couple days. 

“Good, I’ll see you, right?” 

“Yeah, you will.” 

“Great, talk to you later then!” You smile and with that, you walk away. 

You sounded so certain in that statement. Talk to you later. You said it like it was inevitable. Thinking about that, Kei can’t help but watch you go. He even likes looking at the back of you, though he wishes he could see your face too. It feels worse to be walked away from than walked towards. 

Kei can’t tell anymore if what he feels is romance or jealousy. It’s probably both. It’s probably some mix of the two that he can’t quite sort out. He wishes it weren’t that way. Kei gets the feeling that he might be ruined. 

So he just watched you leave the library. Someone is waiting for you at the top of the stairwell. Kei can tell they’re a guy and despite the reluctance of his feelings, his stomach drops anyway when you nudge his shoulder with yours and loop your arm around his. That’s something you haven’t done to Kei before. Touch him. You touch this other person so easily. It makes Kei jealous. 

It makes sense that you might be seeing someone, that there might be someone else. After all, you’re you. Desirable. You look up at the stranger, leaning on him, smiling and flashing your teeth. Yeah, it makes sense. 

Turns out, it’s easier to pretend that he doesn’t feel anything when he thinks you’re interested in someone else. He likes to think it will save him the time of wondering. 

—

Kei has cleaned his room approximately four times today. Sure, it’s overboard, but every time he goes into it, he notices something else that needs to be spruced up. Like a pot with a leak, there is always something that he seemed to miss the last time he went through and cleaned up. 

It’s not like you’ll be in his room tonight anyway, but you will be in his apartment and that’s close enough to his room that he, for whatever reason, needs to make it so spotless that it looks like a set. Kei knows though, that even when you’re here, he’ll be wondering if there’s something else that he missed beyond the closed door and he’ll think about it incessantly. 

He’s been avoiding the thought of him liking you. Instead, Kei cleans and cleans and then cleans some more for good measure. It’s not like he has any sort of claim on you and he knows that it’s stupid to feel jealous over one interaction he witnessed by chance, but his mind is running away with him. Was that person your boyfriend? Has he been begrudgingly pining over a taken person all these months? Do you think that he’s creepy because of it? 

He doesn’t get to be upset over the idea that you’re seeing someone else. Why wouldn’t you be? Kei’s done absolutely nothing to indicate his interest in you (or lack thereof), besides maybe telling you that he doesn’t hate you. He has no right to feel the way he does, but he spirals anyway. His insecurities, the ones that gnaw at him in the hours before he falls asleep, play in a constant loop in his head. His unreliability, his unpleasant personality, his cynicism, the baggage he carries with him like a badge. All of it piles up one by one. 

Kei feels like a kid again, losing himself over such a simple interaction, over something so miniscule that it might not even be considered anything at all. There are a plethora of reasons for his feeling like this and Kei thinks he could draw one of his issues out of a hat and it would still somehow address the situation at hand, but all he really feels is hurt and he doesn’t want to explain it away. Kei finds that liking someone hurts. It hurts more than it feels good and the uncertainty chews at his patience and leaves it razor thin. It’s not your fault, nor is it the person Kei’s convinced himself you’re seeing, but he needs someone to blame and it can’t be himself. 

The idea of you relying on someone else makes him nauseous. He’d never considered the thought before, that you find him as unreliable as others do. Kei wants to be relied on, most of all by you, and that fact makes him upset. He’s afraid of what you think of him and without the confidence to accept his feelings, it threatens to crush him. 

Kei’s got this itch over it, so he tries to distract himself. Cleaning his space to prepare for you helps him delude himself that he doesn’t quite like you at all. It’s not your fault. He’s just confused, like his parents were when they married each other. It hurts. Like they were when they had him to try and fix their marriage, which had started to fall apart even when Akiteru was an only child. He’s confused. He’s jealous over your ability to live the way Kei has always wanted to. That’s all this is. Nothing more and nothing less. He feels like he’s being split in two, stretched thin between two modes of thinking. 

Kei glances over his shoulder and into his room one last time. He’s forgotten to wipe the mirror. He goes back in and the cycle starts itself over. 

—

He’s not proud of his behavior. Kei thinks only a seriously huge asshole would be proud of the kind of behavior he displayed tonight. He regrets it immensely, though some part of him is begrudgingly holding onto the idea that maybe he was right to be so short tempered. Of course, that’s a lunatic’s idea. 

Tadashi is standing by the apartment door, mumbling something to you behind it. Over Tadashi’s shoulder, he sees you shake your head and in response, Tadashi gives a small bow before shutting the door to the shared apartment. Then, Tadashi turns and walks towards him. 

Kei doesn’t want to look at him, but Tadashi, for some reason, commands his gaze. 

“Is there a reason you were such a huge cunt tonight?” Tadashi sort of spits the words. They land at Kei’s feet and roll around before settling. 

“What are you talking about? I was normal,” he answers, though the statement sounds like a lie the moment it leaves his lips. 

“Bullshit,” Tadashi says. “You were being an asshole the second they walked through the door and you’ve been one to me all day.” 

Kei scoffs, his cheeks burning, “I’ve just been tired, dude. Besides, what does it matter? You’re closer to all of them than I am.”

“What? You’re tired so you just get to be a huge asshole?” 

“No,” Kei responds. 

“So then what was that?” 

Kei doesn’t really know. He doesn’t know what prompted him to act so cold or make such snide comments. It’s true, he’d been in a bad mood all day and he knows that Tadashi has borne the brunt of his misplaced emotions, but even Kei is confused as to why he’d acted the way he did. Still though, there is a part of him that knows that it was connected to his spiraling and what he saw in the library. He’d sound insane if he said it out loud, like somehow his growth was stunted in the third grade, but Kei is sure it had something to do with liking you and the hurt that comes with it. 

It’s not as if he’d been outwardly mean, but he had been cold. There are parts of himself that Kei doesn’t want you to see, sections of his personality that he ropes off from you because despite not liking you, he wants you to see the best in him. Tonight, he managed to somehow show off the worst. 

It started with the noise when everyone had arrived. You, Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, Kiyoko, and Yachi had all piled into the apartment in one large group. Kei’d been sitting on the couch and the sound of the door startled him right off the bat. He assumed that by the time they all had rounded the corner into the living room, his face was already sour, because everyone had greeted him cautiously. 

It’s no surprise that everyone was so loud. Kei has known this particular group for many years and they, having all gone to school or work nearby, pile into his apartment often for events like these. You were really the only new factor in all of it and while Kei is known as a touchy person, he certainly was more touchy than usual tonight. 

You’d been trying to talk to him all evening and Kei, in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever lingering feelings he had for you, had been shutting you down at every turn. Thinking back on it, he’s endlessly embarrassed. You didn’t deserve that. You’d been nothing but kind to him and there Kei was holding a grudge over you for something he had no right to be angry about whatsoever. He had been holding a grudge over something that he’d learned later that evening that wasn’t even true. 

Kei thinks that what Tadashi is referring to, was deliberately picking a fight with Tanaka. Kei and Tanaka have never been particularly close. Even in high school, his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious personality has always rubbed Kei the wrong way. Despite that, Tanaka has somehow managed to maintain a connection to him through university and the two of them have established a tentative but honest friendship. 

You had been sitting on the arm of the couch beside Tanaka, leaning over him to look at something he was showing you on his phone. Then, you laughed a little too hard and Kei felt that familiar sense of injustice rise to his throat, thick and heavy. It’s an ugly feeling, the kind that makes Kei feel sick when he’s in bed late at night. Bile rose in his throat in the form of harsh words. Jealousy in the form of the verbal venom Kei excels at. 

For Kei, Tanaka was an easy target, someone he could poke at and get a satisfying rise out of. In the moment, the rise he’d gotten from Tanaka by making snide comments about the volume of his voice and his particular obsession with pretty girls had been exactly that, satisfying. 

He’d picked a small fight. Nothing physical, but just enough to get him irritated. Kei’s not proud of it, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t done it deliberately. After all, Tanaka has never been the type to be the bigger person and turn his nose up. 

Sometimes, when Kei is experiencing emotions he’d rather not deal with, he decides to obsess over one single thing. Usually, it’s cleaning or schoolwork. Tonight, it happened to be the volume of Tanaka’s voice, which he knows was a shitty thing to do. Despite wanting to be reliable, Kei can’t help but feel that he was endlessly immature, lashing out at someone completely unrelated to the situation just because he could. 

Tadashi pulls him from his thoughts. 

“I thought you liked them, dude,” his voice is even, letting up on the anger. 

“Who?” Kei plays dumb. 

Tadashi responds with your name and Kei stiffens slightly. “I thought you guys had gotten closer. What happened?” 

“Nothing happened,” Kei says. It’s the truth. Absolutely nothing happened. Kei had spiraled all on his own. 

“Why did you ignore them then?” 

“I didn’t ignore them,” Kei says. Again, it’s not a lie. He may have shut conversations down and been a little cold, but Kei couldn’t ignore you if he tried, it’s sort of the whole problem he’s dealing with now. 

“Maybe, but you were cold. Like… needlessly.” 

“I was fucking normal, Tadashi. You should know me well enough by now to know that,” Kei spits. 

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? I know you and I know that shit wasn’t normal. You’re twisted, but you’re not an outright asshole, Kei. What’s going on?” 

“I was normal, Tadashi. Just because I didn’t bounce around or get rowdy, doesn’t mean that something is wrong,” Kei answers. 

“Yeah, but you were like… majorly fucking weird, Kei. You were being an asshole. Don’t you like them? Don’t you want to be nice to them?” 

“I don’t.” 

“You don’t want to be nice to them?” Tadashi scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“No, not that. I don’t like them like that anymore,” Kei lies. 

“Oh please, that’s such horseshit,” Tadashi laughs bitterly. 

“Get off my ass, Tadashi. I don’t fucking feel that way about them anymore,” Kei insists. 

“Did something happen?” 

“No, literally nothing happened! Why does something have to happen? I just don’t like them,” Kei feels himself getting indignant. Tadashi doesn’t deserve this either, but he seems to be indiscriminate with his poor behavior tonight. 

Tadashi looks at Kei for a moment, studying him and calculating all of the things only Tadashi could know about him. Kei tries to hide it. 

“Jesus, Kei, you’ve got to stop doing this shit,” Tadashi touches his hand to his forehead. 

“Doing what?” 

“Getting all in your head about every single connection you’ve ever had with a person,” Tadashi raises his voice. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I’ve seen you do this a million times! You start to really feel something for a person and then you fucking back away like a dog with its tail between its legs!” 

“I don’t do that!” 

“Yes, you do! You sabotage yourself until the other person is forced to do something about it!” Tadashi exhales. 

“I’ve never done that deliberately! What does someone else’s actions have to do with me?” 

“It doesn’t have to do with you,” Tadashi says, “It has to do with your parents.” 

The wind is knocked out of Kei, air sucked from his lungs. He furrows his eyebrows at Tadashi, his mouth slightly open. 

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Tadashi pushes, angry and trying to make him listen. “Not every relationship is like your parents’, Kei.” 

Tadashi knows he’s stepped over the line the moment he says it. If it hadn’t registered before, it registers clearly on his face now, regret settling over Tadashi’s usually bright features. Kei gapes at him for a moment, running through his thoughts and trying to pick out one that best verbalizes what it is he feels. Kei comes up empty. 

“Shit-” Tadashi starts towards him. “Kei, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. I’m just pissed off I didn’t mean to-” 

Kei pushes past him. “Tadashi, I know you mean well, but don’t try to tell me about my fucking parents.” 

Tadashi doesn’t try to stop him when Kei flings the front door open and walks outside.

—

Kei remembers it like it was yesterday. He remembers all of it. 

He can clearly recall the way shattered glass looked on the marble tiles of his childhood home. White porcelain, broken up into multitudes by his mother and father. They never laid hands on each other, but everything else in the house was fair game. Kei’s lost count of the amount of broken glass dishes and picture frames he’d swept from the floor. 

Kei’s parents had always been on and off in their affection for each other. One minute, they were deeply in love and the next, they were at each other’s throats. Neither of them were bad people, but they made each other bad people. The two of them brought out the worst in each other, maybe on account of knowing the other so well. 

Akiteru was an accident. His brother knows this because when his parents argued, they never let him forget it. In their spats, leverage was whatever they could get their hands on, and that just happened to be Akiteru and the unfortunate circumstances of an accidental pregnancy. 

His parents got married at 19, thinking that they’d be able to handle a child, that their marriage was anything but rushed. They convinced themselves that it was love, when the reality was that Akiteru came because they were too young and stupid to prevent it. At least, that’s what Kei and Akiteru had settled on in the evenings after the yelling had died down and they were left to make sense of it in their shared bedroom. 

They had Kei to fix the marriage. Kei knows this because, like Akiteru, his father’s marital “solution” in the form of a second child was constant leverage to his mother. Kei grew up asking Akiteru why his mother and father even had children in the first place. 

Their relationship was rocky and unstable, predictable and toxic. They, like Kei, would do things to get rises out of each other. They’d make digs, do things to get under the other’s skin. They did it for attention, for affection, or out of loathing for the person they’d decided to make their life partner. When things settled, they got bored. His parents often mistakened calmness for complacency in their relationship. His parents loved each other, but they hated each other just as much, and it was he and Akiteru who paid the price. 

They got divorced when he was fourteen and any chance of Kei having a normal family went to the courthouse with the divorce papers. Akiteru was 20 at the time and managed to avoid the brunt of the custody battle. Kei still gets unexplainably angry with Akiteru for leaving him alone, though he knows that it’s not his fault. The only way Kei could make sense of it was through blame and it was easier to blame Akiteru for lying about volleyball or leaving him alone than it was to blame himself. Both Kei’s father and mother tried for full custody, not because they loved him that much, but because they knew that it would destroy the other. In the end, Kei spent his weekdays with his mother because she lived closer to his school, and weekends with his father just because. 

It happens all the time. People grow together, then grow apart, and grow to loathe each other. Kei watched it happen to his parents, he watched it happen to his friends, he watched it happen to himself with his own reflection. That’s just the way it goes. 

The air outside of his apartment is cool and breezy. He can feel the wind through his sweater, cutting through the gaps in the stitching and into his skin. Kei feels like he can think a little better out here, sitting on the short concrete wall with his back to the apartment building. He stares at his feet, outstretched in front of him. He's still wearing his house slippers. 

Kei did this once when he was younger. The fight that night had been particularly bad and his parents had resulted to throwing things across their bedroom. Kei could hear picture frames shatter through two walls and he wondered which memories they’d decided to trash. A particularly loud shout had sent Kei out of the front door and onto the curb in front of the house. 

He remembers crying, staring at his house slippers on the pavement, afraid because he could hear the shouting even from the lawn. Akiteru had come out to get him, sitting down beside him on the curb and putting his arm around him. 

“Are mom and dad gonna get divorced?” Kei had asked through sniffles. 

“Divorced? No, no,” Akiteru answered. “It’s just a rough patch. It happens to all couples. Mommy and Daddy will be fine.” 

“It’s normal?” Kei sniffled. 

Akiteru paused for a moment. Looking back, Kei realizes that Akiteru was debating on whether or not to lie to protect him. Kei wishes he hadn’t. 

“Yeah, it’s normal.” 

Normal. Kei realizes that he doesn’t exactly know what a normal relationship looks like. He is his parents' son. What they had in them, he has in him. Kei knows that those habits, the digs, the sour statements, the passive aggressiveness, are all things he’s picked up from watching them. Some role models they were. 

He needs to apologize to Tadashi. He may have overstepped, but Kei knows that he’d been an asshole tonight. He’ll need to apologize to Tanaka as well. And to you, which is perhaps the scariest part of this. He wants to apologize for his behavior, but apologizing means that he has to admit that he’d acted the way his parents did, out of jealousy and a pull for attention. Yup, he’s his parents’ son alright. 

Kei tilts his head up toward the sky. Only half of it is visible, the other half blocked by the three story apartment complex directly behind him. It’s a clear night, but he can’t see any stars and the moon is nowhere to be found. Kei wonders when the morning will come. It’s a few hours off, but he thinks about how the sky will look when the sun begins to rise. 

“Kei,” a familiar voice calls from in front of him. 

You’re a few feet away, your hands clasped in front of you. 

“Thought you went home,” he says. 

“Yeah well, I had intended to,” you start, “but you seemed off and I felt weird going back without checking on you. Can I sit?” 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, mortified and angry at being caught like this. He appreciates the thought, but you’re the last person he wants to see right now. It just means he needs to face his shortcomings sooner. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kei answers automatically. 

“Just decided on some fresh air?” You smile a little and Kei blows air out of his nose. 

“Yup, that’s exactly it.” 

You sit next to him with your legs outstretched the same way his are, your hands are laced together in front of you, hanging down between your thighs. Kei doesn’t make an effort to say anything and neither do you. Instead, he just trains his head back up towards the sky and attempts to collect his thoughts, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Strangely, tonight he doesn’t feel nervous. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to. Maybe he’s too preoccupied with being sorry to pay any mind to the heart palpitations he gets when you’re around. Maybe it’s because even though he showed you the worst of him tonight, you still came back. It’s a small hope, but it’s there. 

“Hey,” your voice comes quietly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you need- I mean- if you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good ear.” 

Kei nods a little. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “about tonight.” 

“I didn’t come here for an apology, you know?” You exhale a little. 

“Yeah, but you deserve one,” he says. “I was pretty shitty to you.” 

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, catching Kei off guard, “but it happens to all of us. Sometimes we feel things and just can’t keep them inside, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, swallowing down his shame. 

There’s another long silence. You don’t move to touch him or talk to him, instead, you provide steady company. Kei, as strange as it is, is comforted by your presence. 

“I fought with Tadashi,” Kei says after a few minutes. 

“Today?” 

“Yeah, tonight. After everyone left,” he says. “I deserved it though. I’ve been pretty shitty to him all day.” 

You hum, leaning back on your hands. 

“I did the same shit in high school too, you know?” Kei starts. “We’ve uhm- we’ve known each other for a while, the group that was over tonight. Around the end of middle school some shit happened and I uh- I took out a lot of what I was feeling on Tadashi and the others, but mostly Tadashi because he was the only one who knew.” 

Kei isn’t sure why he’s telling you this. Maybe Tadashi was right. Maybe this is another attempt at self sabotage. 

“You bullied him?” You ask, a little surprised. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, but I wasn’t very nice either. Anyone could tell you that. I thought I was past it, though,” he admits, a little defeated. 

“Did you ever apologize?” 

Kei looks up at you in surprise. Your eyes are full of something, curiosity, maybe pity. 

“For what you did in school?” 

He nods. “Countless times, and not just to Tadashi either, to everyone.” 

“You know, stuff like this happens,” you say. “When I was little, I used to hate sharing. Toys, food, friends. I’d hate it when my friends were friends with other people. It made me insecure and I’d get mad at them for it. I grew out of it, but sometimes I still get that way and I have to apologize later.” 

Kei laughs. It’s strikingly similar to what’s happening now, not that you’d have any way of knowing. 

“I can’t imagine you doing that,” he says. 

“I’m serious,” you say. “I still get weird over it sometimes.” 

Kei shakes his head a little, smiling. 

“All that I’m saying is that sometimes we slip up, that’s all. It’s normal,” you continue. “Not that I’m condoning it. Just saying that it doesn’t make you a horrible person. It makes you human.” 

“Thanks,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” you respond. 

“So why’d you fight with him tonight?” 

“He was angry with me because I was an asshole,” Kei shrugs.

“And you’re mad that he called you out?” You give a quiet and somewhat incredulous laugh. 

Kei shakes his head. “No, I’m angry about what he said after.” 

“What’d he say?” 

Kei debates on telling you. He doesn’t want to make himself out to be a victim. After all, Tadashi meant no harm, even if his comment did exactly that. 

“The argument kind of switched subjects,” Kei tiptoes around the fact that the subject was you. “He brought up a bad habit of mine and I got defensive.” 

“Okay,” you say, waiting for him to say more. 

“Remember when I said that something happened at the end of middle school and only Tadashi knew about it?” When you nod, Kei continues. “My parents got divorced. They were a bad match and it was messy. He brought it up.” 

You nod again, your eyes wide. 

“He didn’t mean any harm, I know that,” Kei inhales. “But uh- that stuff kind of sticks with you. Well, it’s stuck with me and I didn’t like having it used to explain my behaviors, even if he was right. I’m not deflecting or anything though. I know I was the problem tonight.” 

“Sure,” you say. “I’m sorry about your parents.” 

Kei shrugs. “It’s in the past. They’re both remarried now with new kids.” 

The last sentence leaves Kei with a sour taste in his mouth. His parents are good people, but after his childhood, he doesn’t think they have any business having more children. Maybe they’re capable of being good for them, but Kei doesn’t like to imagine that. It makes him feel like their marriage wasn’t the problem, but he and Akiteru were. 

“You say that like they got a new pet,” you smile a little. “Are you still in touch with them?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “I visit whenever I go back home, though they’re really not too far from here.” 

“That’s good of you.” 

“Well, they are my parents,” Kei says plainly. 

You’re the only other person he’s divulged this to by choice and your reactions, understanding and level-headed, make him feel better. It’s like getting a weight off of his chest. This is the worst of him. This little bit of information, his history of being unable to fully confront his feelings, of taking anger out on others when he was young, is where his problems originate. 

“Yeah, but you’re allowed to feel what you feel about it,” you say. “My mom died when I was eleven. Texting and driving. I’m still angry at her for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

You shrug and offer him a wry smile. “It’s in the past, but I’m still angry even though I shouldn’t be.” 

“At her?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “She made a stupid mistake that we’re constantly warned about and left my dad and me behind. I was so angry with her, still am. I love her though, perceived faults and all.” 

Kei thinks about whether or not he loves his parents. He thinks he does, even if he resents them. Kei can’t imagine what he’d do without them. Even though his childhood had few emotional comforts, he still can’t think about a world where he doesn’t visit home to have his mother’s cooking. That’s a world that you live in. 

“That’s hard.” It’s all Kei can think to offer. 

“It was,” you say. “Got easier though as soon as I started accepting things. Now I just miss her more than I hate her.”

Another bout of silence follows this. It must be close to two in the morning and he’s been outside so long that he can no longer feel the tip of his nose. 

“Anyway, about tonight,” you say, “it’s not a crime to feel what you feel, but if you need help, that’s what we’re here for. It’s easier to accept feelings and get hurt than to ignore them, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Kei says, looking to face you. “Thank you.” 

You’re so pretty. It’s striking. The curvature and angles of your face, the gentle look in your eyes, softened by the conversation. Kei finds himself thinking that despite not wanting to face you a few hours earlier, he’s grateful that you showed up. You’re good in ways that Kei can hardly fathom. 

“You should go inside. Tadashi is probably wondering where you are,” you say, standing up. “Plus,” you pinch the tip of his nose between your middle and pointer knuckles, “your nose looks like a cherry tomato.”

“Rude,” he says, startled by the sudden touch. 

“Payback,” you shrug your shoulders and Kei rolls his eyes. 

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Kei offers, a bit nervous about you walking home on your own. 

“I’d love to take you up on that, but you seem tired and I don’t live very far,” you respond. “I’ll call you when I get home though, okay? Since you’re so worried.” 

Kei laughs a little and then nods, standing up. “Yeah, I am.” 

His honesty surprises even him, but you just tilt your head and give him a small smile. 

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say. “Thanks for the apology” 

“Anytime.”

“I hope not,” you laugh and Kei follows suit. 

You begin to turn on your heel, giving a small wave. 

Kei doesn’t know what overcomes him, but he calls out your name and reaches for your wrist. Before he has a moment to think about what he’s doing, he pulls you to his chest in a hug. You stiffen and then relax in his grip, wrapping your arms around him. Your body is warmer than his, sending heat through the gaps in his sweater. 

“You can call even if it’s not to tell me you got home safe,” he says. “If you want to.” 

You squeeze him around the middle. “Okay, I will.” 

When Kei lets go, he finds that his face is burning. The cold has been replaced by a flush of blood, making his vision a little syrupy.

“Thanks for coming back,” he says. “Get home safe.” 

“Of course,” you sound a little dazed, wearing an expression that Kei thinks might match his. “And I will.” 

Then, you smile at him, flashing your teeth and giving him a wave. You hold up your phone and point to it. 

“Expect a call!” 

Kei nods and raises his arm to wave goodbye.

He stands and watches your figure as you walk down the sidewalk and turn the corner. When you’re out of sight, he lingers by the door to his building, just in case you decide to come back. You don’t come back, but Kei lingers anyway, considering the conversation. 

He goes inside, intent on apologizing to Tadashi. When he opens the door to his apartment, the lights are still on in the living room and Tadashi gets up from the couch and walks quickly down the hall to him.

“Kei, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Kei says. “I know. I’m sorry about tonight too. And for treating you like that today. And for high school.” 

“High school?” Tadashi says, confused. “Why are you bringing up high school?” 

“Just wanted to apologize again.” 

Kei can feel his eyes drooping, exhaustion creeping into his body and replacing the elated feeling he had moments before. 

“I didn’t mean to bring your parents into it. How you like someone is none of my business,” Tadashi says. “I was out of line.” 

“So was I,” Kei admits through a tired sigh. “I shouldn’t have acted that way. I’ll apologize to the others in the morning.” 

Tadashi narrows his eyes a little and nods. Kei, besieged by that sleepy late night feeling, moves towards his bedroom. 

“Hey, Kei,” his voice comes out a little louder this time. “You’re being surprisingly easy-going. Are we good?” 

Kei scoffs a little, rubbing his eyes. “I just had some time to think, that’s all. And yeah, we’re good.” 

“Okay, are you good?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Kei says. 

Before he closes the door to his room, he furrows his eyebrows and makes a firm decision. 

“By the way,” Tadashi turns to him, cocking his head to the side in response. “I lied. I do like them.” 

“Could have guessed as much,” he responds, laughing a little. “See you in the morning.” 

“Yup, see you in the morning.” 

Kei shuts the door to his room. It clicks into place quietly. His room is spotless. It looks like a room that could be easily emptied at any time. He sighs, stepping into it and laying down on his bed. His phone is on the comforter next to him, lying face up. 

When it lights up, it illuminates the ceiling above him and he answers the phone without needing to check who's calling. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I got home safe,” he hears your keys clink against something and then the sound of a door shutting. Then, he hears the sound of you laying down on your bed. He imagines you’re lying the same way he is. 

“Good, I’m glad,” he says. “No trouble?” 

“No trouble at all,” you say. He can hear your smile. 

“Thanks again for coming back tonight,” he says, turning over onto his side and letting the phone rest on the bed in front of his face. 

“Of course,” you say.

He doesn’t know what else to say. His nerves have caught up to him and your voice through the speaker sounds so close, like you’re whispering directly into his ear. 

“Okay, well I’m going to go to bed,” Kei starts. 

“Kei?” you say. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m gonna take you up on your offer. About calling you. Just wanted you to know.” 

“Okay,” he swallows. 

“I feel a lot closer to you.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Goodnight, Kei,” you practically whisper. 

“Goodnight,” he responds, lowering his voice the same way you did. You hang up the phone and the call ends. 

He blinks at his phone for a moment before standing up and getting ready for bed. Kei goes through the motions while thinking about how the evening got here. He’d been certain before it began that he no longer liked you, that he was confused. Now, he’s certain of the opposite. 

He decides that he’ll like you for real this time. Even if he’s afraid of hurting himself, of hurting you.

Kei lays down in his bed and faces the ceiling. He thinks about his parents, about your mother, about you. The cadence of your voice, the slight tremor in it. He thinks about your expressions, understanding and unintrusive. He thinks about your history, the anger you’d admitted to him and the grace you’d given him in his own circumstances. 

He dreams of braids, like DNA. Coils of pink yarn woven together in an intricate pattern. A molecular change not visible to the naked eye. Morning comes like liquid gold, spilling across his bedspread in slats through the window.

—

Kei’s apologies go smoothly. Tadashi’s friends—his friends—are good people. They know him better than most and field his awkward, stumbling apology with steady hands. 

He’d explained his sour mood in as little detail as possible, deliberately omitting his feelings for you while doing so, and he made a special effort to apologize to Tanaka. He’s easygoing and quick to forget, but Kei knows that even after accepting the apology, Tanaka will lord it over his head for a week or two. Tanaka thinks those kinds of things are funny and Kei won’t try to tell him otherwise. 

You do take Kei up on his offer. You call him twice a week now. Sometimes it’s to tell him something relevant to him, other times, you just whisper into the phone that you just felt like talking. Either way, it’s not good for his heart. Kei thinks that at this rate, it might just give out. 

There are a lot of things that Kei could say about liking you. It makes his days a little brighter. When he remembers that he has someone he cares about like that, he feels a surge of excitement for no particular reason. He finds that he looks forward to seeing you and goes out of his way to do so, more than he did before he was willing to admit it. 

He’s noticed the way you eat, like every bite of food is even better than the last. He’s noticed that you wipe the condensation off of your cups before each sip. He’s noticed that when you’re studying, you’ll pull at the collar of your shirt absentmindedly and then become frustrated when it is stretched out of place. Kei likes all of these things about you. 

Kei has also found that liking someone hurts. It hurts worse than he thought it would. Insecurity weaves its way into even the most minor of interactions. He’s self conscious almost all of the time, adjusting his hair, clothing, glasses right down to minor details. As of late, Kei appears more put together than he ever has, but the reality is that he’s probably the least put together he’s ever been. 

When you’re around, Kei is awkward and clumsy. He drops things, trips over nothing, loses control over his lanky limbs and overshoots things. He feels like a teenager again, not that he’s that far off from one. 

Still, one thing overshadows all of this. Kei is so comfortable around you, so peaceful despite the nerves and insecurity, that he’s able to forget about the worst of it. Forgetting about the worst of things is not something Kei is particularly good at. He’s cynical by nature. You help to ease the burden of it. 

The coffee shop he’s visiting with you today is quiet. The room is decorated with dark oak wood and the tables are accented by the rings of the trees the wood was cut from. The early spring light filters in at angles through the windows letting out onto the street. It falls across your notebooks and the knuckles of your hand, wrapped evenly around a black pen. 

You’d brought him here to study instead of going to the library and Kei can’t help but think that it feels like a date. His tea sits half-finished in a mug beside his laptop, beginning to cool to room temperature. Your coffee sits by your unoccupied hand and every now and then, you’ll reach to take a sip of the warm beverage without even glancing up. 

Kei has spent so much time watching you today, that he’s hardly gotten any work done. His computer is open on a document with a paragraph of writing about nudity in the classical period, which he hasn’t touched in about 10 minutes. He’s been clicking blankly around the page, adding spaces and then deleting them and then glancing up over the edge of the screen to look at the way you purse your lips when you’re focused. 

“You’d get a lot more done if you stopped staring,” you say, not looking up from your notebook. 

Kei chokes on his exhale. “What?” 

You laugh a little, looking up at him through your lashes. God, you’re pretty. 

“The document?” You chuckle. “You’re not fooling anyone by clicking around randomly like that.” 

“Oh,” Kei furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head a little. “Yeah, just can’t seem to focus.” 

“What’s the paper on?” You set down your pen and cross your arms on the table. 

“It’s not really a paper,” he says. “It’s a visual analysis on the Aphrodite of Knidos.” 

“Is that the one without the arms?” 

“No, but they come from the same family of statues,” Kei smiles a little. 

You hum a bit. “Do you like it?” 

“Like, do I think the statue’s pretty?” Kei closes the screen of his laptop to see you better. “Yeah, I do. Learning about the history of it is a bit depressing though.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, Aphrodite was one of the most powerful Greek gods, right?” He says, and you nod your head and roll your eyes because you know that already. “But this statue group intrudes on a private moment of hers. She’s trying to cover up her body, probably just before or after a bath. It’s meant to be humiliating.” 

You tilt your head. “Sounds more interesting than molecular structures at least.” 

Kei laughs a little. “Yeah, I think it’s just a bit more interesting.” 

“Why did you choose to study art history?” You question, leaning forward on your elbows. 

Kei feels awkward at receiving the question. He doesn’t like talking about himself much, let alone his passions. They tend to get away from him. 

“Probably because I’m no good at art,” he smiles a little. 

“Such a shame, what with your artist’s hands and all,” you reach across the table and tap his knuckle. 

Kei feels the color rise to his cheeks. 

“You’re no good at art, so you study art history instead?” You press for more. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I like things that people make with their hands. There’s a lot of human expression in ancient art, good and bad. Gives a bit more context into who we were before.” 

You lean back in the chair, grinning at him. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to notice the slope of your neck. 

“Why are you studying molecular bio?” He changes the subject. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I want a good cushy job that makes me a lot of money.” 

Kei watches the corners of your lips curl up. 

“Plus,” you continue, “I wanted to show off a little bit.” 

“So you put yourself through four years of torture?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yup, I’m a huge masochist,” you grin. 

“You STEM kids are unbearable, you know?” Kei snorts. 

“But you like me anyway, yeah?” 

Kei nods, heat creeping up his neck, and watches you return to your work. 

It’s true, he does like you anyway. Kei likes you so much, in fact, that it frightens him. Well, the idea of liking someone has always frightened Kei, whether he’s noticed it or not. Commitment, or lack thereof, make Kei nervous in the same way heights do. He feels like he could lose his footing at any moment. 

That’s probably why he doesn’t want to do anything in particular about his feelings. Kei is content with just feeling them. He’s content to just be able to like you in his own way, even if nothing ever comes of it. He probably shouldn’t do anything about them, considering the back and forth battle he’s waged in his mind over the last few months. He’s too indecisive to do anything but like you, and even that feels herculean to accept. 

Not that liking you is a hard thing to do. You’re easy to like. It’s easy for him to picture touching you. It’s easy for Kei to imagine late night conversations and little intimacies shared over damp pillows. You’re easy to talk to, floating through conversations and navigating conflict with a sure step, something Kei can’t do. It’s not hard to find things to admire. 

Kei imagines what it would be like to be with you. He imagines the feel of your hands in his, how you might look spread beneath him, the inside of your thighs pressing against his hips. He imagines how his glasses might fog up with your breath and slip down the bridge of his nose. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? 

A little alarm bell sounds in his head. This is a dangerous line of thought, a greedy one. Kei doesn’t think he can handle greed, not when it comes to you. He got a taste of it that day when he saw you leave with someone else and again the following Friday. Kei doesn’t mix well with it, with wanting. Still, he wants. 

—

It’s a breezy day. It cuts the growing humidity as the beginning of May creeps on. This is no doubt one of the best times of year, though Kei prefers the fall or winter. Still, even with the slightly sticky air, his walk to class is pleasant. He’d even venture to say that it’s good. 

Light filters through the trees, blooming with their spring flowers, and in the distance he can see a familiar row of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom. As he approaches them, he finds himself admiring their delicate petals, wondering just how brief their bloom will be before they come cascading down. One tree among the pink rows has yet to open its flowers. The buds sit on their branches, shades of green and gray. A late bloomer. This tree will no doubt flower once the other petals have fallen, and when it does, it’ll become the most eye-catching thing on the street. 

Kei admires it for a moment, standing below the thing and looking up through its twisting branches. It’s so small, much smaller than the rest of its counterparts, and its branches don’t look too full of yet-to-bloom buds either. 

There was a tree like this outside of Kei’s childhood home, the one his family lived in together when it was whole. It would always bloom a week after the others and every year he would worry that it never would. Of course, he kept this fear to himself, but he often watched it from his bedroom window when Akiteru was out. He’d press his face against the glass and pray for the flowers to come so that it didn’t get left behind. Sure enough though, it would bloom without fail and leave scattered pink petals across his yard and doorstep. Kei wonders if this tree in front of him will do the same. 

“Thinking about changing your major to plant sciences, Kei?” 

He jumps, started by your voice and your proximity. 

“Jesus,” Kei turns, “you need a bell or something.” 

“You’re the one standing in public staring at a tree with no flowers on it,” you laugh a little. 

Kei shrugs his shoulders, not really willing to give an explanation for the train of thought he was just on. 

“Where’re you headed?” he questions. 

“Dropping off an assignment,” you smile lightly, “wanna come with me?” 

“I can’t. I’ve got a class in 15.” 

“Fifteen minutes is fifteen minutes,” you shrug. “We’ll make it.” 

“We?” Kei raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you come with me to drop off my paper and then I drop you off at class. It’s a win-win.” 

“Sounds like I’m just doing a lot of extra walking,” Kei snorts. 

“Yeah, but you get to do it with me so it’ll be more fun.” 

Kei folds and goes with you to drop off your assignment. It’s an essay assigned by an old-fashioned professor who doesn’t like electronic submissions. You comment off-handedly on what a waste of paper it is and Kei nods, just happy to hear about it. 

It’s strange. Kei is normally very tied to his routine. It keeps him sane, helps him to organize his thoughts and feelings into neat compartments. For Kei, an orderly life is an orderly mind. Somehow though, you ask him to deviate from that and he’s more than willing, eager even, to oblige you. Better yet, he does it without feeling off-kilter. Well, without feeling as off-kilter about his daily life. When it comes to you, Kei is about as stable as a pogo stick. 

The walk to your professor's office is only a few minutes from his classroom, just a few buildings over, but by the time you both arrive there, Kei’s palms are sweating. He resorts to shoving them in his pockets and wiping them on the inside of his pants, mortified at the idea of accidentally touching you like this. 

“Hey, about tonight,” you start after dropping the paper off with a quick bow. 

You’re supposed to come over. It’s the first time you and Kei have agreed to hang out at one of your places alone and Kei has been compartmentalizing his nerves so harshly that he’d almost forgotten about it entirely. Maybe that explains his easy-going mood. 

“Yeah?” 

“So, Tadashi may have mentioned it in front of the others,” you give him a sheepish grin, “and they may have asked to come and I definitely told them ‘the more the merrier’.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kei’s a little disappointed. “So they’re coming too?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

Kei can’t very well come out and say that it isn’t, because his reason for thinking that is entirely about monopolizing your time. Kei says he doesn’t want to do anything about these feelings, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t indulge just a little into the foreign feeling of accepting that he’s ‘in like’. 

“Yeah sure, why wouldn’t it be?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him and Kei misses the message entirely. 

“I dunno, you’re not really a fan of bigger groups right?” 

“Not really,” Kei shrugs, “but I’ve known them for a while so it doesn’t count.” 

You nod your head and then smile. “Great! Now, where is your class?” 

“Social Sciences,” Kei glances down at the brown watch on his wrist. “In about… four minutes.” 

“Wanna run? Can’t be late, can you?” 

Kei does not want to run. He runs anyway. You’re faster than he is and your step is louder. The soles of your shoes thump on the floor with every step you take and your whole body lurches forward with each bound. When you reach the end of the hallway his class is in, Kei is completely winded. Considering that he plays volleyball as a hobby, he should really be in better shape. He attributes his lack of breath to your presence. Maybe he’d been holding it while watching you run. 

You glance into his full classroom, giving him a relieved look upon seeing that the professor has not begun her lecture yet. Then, you bounce twice on the tips of your toes and start jogging in the other direction. 

“Have a good class!” You call. 

“What’s the rush?” he questions. 

“I’ve got class now too, dummy. Just wanted to hang out with you for a few more minutes.” Then, you turn and run off, your bag bouncing against the side of your leg as you round a corner and fly down a set of stairs. 

That’s the thing about you that Kei can’t get enough of. When Kei takes a step back, when he resigns himself to being okay with just a chance meeting and a brief hello, you take a step forward. Whatever Kei lacks, you make up for tenfold. Your outstretched hand makes him greedier. It makes Kei want more than he’s ever wanted before. He goes to class starved for something that isn’t food, a feeling Kei hasn’t experienced often, let alone leaned into. He lets himself feel the hunger. 

—

Day melts away to a cool evening, still slightly wet, but like the dampness before rain. The air loses its warm touch, creeping into something chillier. Kei opens his bedroom window to let the air in. He likes the smell of cool nights. He wants his room to smell like it when he sleeps tonight. 

“Sorry that I spilled the beans about tonight,” Tadashi leans in the doorway of his room. 

“It’s not like that,” Kei rolls his eyes, already irritated with the implication that whatever you and Kei had organized was anything more than two friends hanging out. 

“Sure it isn’t,” he laughs. 

“I’m serious dude,” Kei fights the urge to throw something soft at him. 

“You wanted to hang out with them alone, right?” Tadashi tilts his head. His dark hair falls to the side and around his neck. 

“I just said it wasn’t like that!” 

Tadashi gives an even laugh. “You’re the one making it dirty, Tsukki, not me.” 

Heat floods Kei’s face, painting it red. 

“Caught ya,” Tadashi smiles. 

“When the hell are you moving out?” Kei grumbles and Tadashi gives another good natured laugh. 

“Not until you do. You’re stuck with me.” 

“Not if I kill you,” Kei doesn’t smile when he says this. 

Tadashi barks a laugh. “So what changed?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean with you. You seem a little more upbeat lately,” Tadashi says. “Nothing like the sad sack from a few months ago.” 

“I was kidding before but now I’m serious. I really will kill you.” 

Tadashi shakes his head a little but doesn’t say anything, intruding on Kei’s space until he gives an answer. 

“I just got tired of it, that’s all,” Kei says evenly, though it’s a little hard to admit. 

“Tired of what?” 

“Pretending,” he says plainly, glancing up at Tadashi in the doorway. 

“Because of them?” 

“No,” he starts. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can you leave now?” 

Tadashi shakes his head. “Too curious to leave.” 

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Kei grumbles. “I got tired of pretending I didn’t want them.” 

“Not like you were very good at pretending,” Tadashi laughs and Kei tosses him a sharp look. 

He raises his hands defensively, tucking his chin downwards and laughing lightly. “Okay, fine. I’m gone now.” 

“They’ll be here in an hour or so, by the way,” Kei adds and Tadashi gives a little hum to confirm that he’s heard him as he leaves the room. 

Kei glances around his room. The floor is bare, save for a small mat by the side of his bed to keep the shock of warm feet on a cold floor in the morning away. That notebook, dear to him as it is, still sits on the desk. It’s empty, but Kei likes the look of it. 

The hour before you and his friends are meant to arrive goes by so slowly that Kei worries that he’s gotten the day wrong. He incessantly checks his watch. It’s a brown leather watch with a square face. Thin and somewhat old fashioned, Kei prefers it to pulling his phone out to check the time. His Dad has one like it, almost matching. It had been given to him as a gift at his high school graduation and Kei had accepted it begrudgingly. He’d not been on good terms with his parents then and having them both in the same space for his graduation day was more trouble than it was worth. Still, he wears the watch almost daily. Despite having the impression that his parents never really cared about him, it was a fine gift for him and the brown strap suits his light skin tone in the same way it suits his father’s. 

He walks to the mirror in his room, hanging on the wall beside his nightstand, and peers into it. Kei’s curly hair is somewhat unruly. It’s hard to manage, especially in the warmer months when his waves turn into frizzy curls that he can’t seem to keep down. It’s gotten longer, coming down to just above the bottom of his ears at the back and curls upwards in licks of thick blond. 

Kei fiddles with it for a moment, tucking it behind his ears and then deciding to pull it forward. He could put gel in it to help calm it down, but he hates the greasy look of it and he’s never been one to primp and preen. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, square frames in a tortoiseshell pattern. They look expensive, though they’re only a cheap pair that he’d found at the drug store and had the lenses replaced. 

He looks normal. Kei looks like himself, if not a bit flushed in the face from his nerves. His reflection is one he is oddly unfamiliar with, despite it being his throughout his entire life. At some point during high school, he’d stopped recognizing the man in the mirror as Kei and started viewing him as a separate entity. Kei Two, a version of him that can make a home out of a space and find things to write in his notebook. Kei Two’s family is still whole and unbroken, and he likes to imagine that he’s a little more friendly than the real-world version. He looks away from the mirror, content today with being the original. 

Kei is in the living room and around the corner when the front door latch clicks open and is followed by a symphony of raucous voices. He takes a sharp inhale, unsure of why this feels so different from the hundreds of other times you’ve all piled into his living room. 

“Where’s Kei?” He hears you call, dragging out the syllable of his name in a soft hum. 

That’s why. It’s because this time, you’ve come here to see him specifically. You’re not here to see Tadashi or by chance, you’re here because you’d made plans to see Kei. That’s what makes it different. 

You round the corner and Kei is hit full force in the chest with his emotions and his nerves. It happens all at once, keeping the air from his lungs. You’re smiling, beaming even, and Kei thinks that maybe it’s because you can hear the hammer of his heart against his chest. 

“Hi,” you breathe, plopping down next to him on the couch. 

“Hey,” he chokes out. 

Kei chides himself for his nerves. He’d been doing better about getting weird around you, but today he feels closer to blowing up than he ever has. 

Hinata, Kageyama, Yachi, and Noya make their way into the kitchen, each one clapping Tadashi on the back as they do. They beeline for their fridge, opening the door and flooding the floor with artificial white light as they pull out enough beers and sodas to supply a small army. Kei wonders why he and Tadashi ever bought so many of them. Kei hardly drinks, but he supposes that Tadashi just likes to host. 

“Tanaka and Kiyoko?” Tadashi questions as he makes his way into the living room with the group. His beer cracks open with a satisfying pop. 

“Date night,” Noya says, sinking into one of the arm chairs situated around the coffee table. “So annoying.”

He groans about Kiyoko, someone he’s all but worshiped since high school. 

“You’re just mad it isn’t you,” Kageyama quips, giving a somewhat mean grin. 

“Not true,” Noya argues. “I am the happiest person in the world for them! But now they go on dates and I can’t come. It’s like I lost a bro.” 

“You’re so overreacting,” Yachi adds, her lips forming around high pitched syllables. “They’re here most of the time.” 

“Yeah, most but not all,” Noya pouts. 

“Give the same energy to Daichi, Suga, and Asahi next time, kay?” Tadashi laughs. 

Their friend group is a large one, consisting of most (if not all) of their highschool volleyball team. While Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi are the same age as Kei and Tadashi, Tanaka and Noya are a year older, and Kiyoko is two. Daichi, Asahi, and Suga all went to universities outside of Sendai, meaning they hardly ever see them. All in all, the rest of the group is pretty bummed about it. Kei just finds that he misses having Daichi around to reel everyone in. Now that he’s gone, that job has somehow gone to Tadashi, who is more of an enabler than anything else. 

“They’re different and you know it,” Noya frowns, opening his open beer with a hiss through his teeth. 

You lean to the side, bumping your shoulder against Kei’s. 

“Who’re Daichi, Suga, and Asahi?” You ask softly. 

“You’ve never met?” Kei furrows his eyebrows and you shrug. 

“Maybe, but if I have it was only once or twice.” 

“They’re friends from our volleyball team in highschool, but they’re two years older.” 

“Okay, so one year older than me?” 

Kei blinks a few times. “You’re a year older than me?” 

“Yeah?” You laugh a little like it’s obvious. 

“But aren’t you a fourth year?” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“I took a year off before starting college,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thought that I had to get my sillies out.” 

“Your sillies?” Kei laughs a little. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “and I had to save up some money. It makes the world go ‘round, you know?” 

“What are you guys whispering about?” Tadashi gives Kei a wry grin over the top of his beer can. 

It’s only then that Kei realizes the way you both are leaning into each other. He’s tilting his head down to hear you better and you’re leaning forward. It gives off the impression of two people conspiring, of closeness that Kei hadn’t even realized had crept up on him. 

“I was asking who Daichi, Suga, and Asahi are,” you shrug off the moment, leaning back in the chair. 

This prompts a chorus of disbelief, everyone jumping in to describe them to you. Kei takes it as a moment to breathe, inhaling and exhaling. He can feel your thigh against his, just barely there and bleeding warmth through the fabric of his jeans. 

They delve into stories about nationals, little details that Kei had forgotten a long time ago. Every now and then, someone will bring up Kei’s more-than-sour personality and he will feel the need to hide the embarrassment on his cheeks. Even though you know about it, it’s still mortifying for Kei to hear. He wants you to see the best in him, but any hopes he had of you forgetting are quickly washed away as someone brings up Kei’s relentless prodding of Kageyama’s easily pushed buttons. 

You laugh along with them like you were there, amused to hear stories about your college friends in their high school years. Kei finds himself thinking that you fit very well into this scene. 

Still though, despite the fun he’s having, Kei’s battery begins to run out quickly and after a long game of cards, he gets up to take a quick break in the kitchen. It’s not that he wants the night to end, but rather that he just needs a minute to himself and uses the idea of more snacks as an excuse for it. 

He reaches into a cabinet, pulling out a half-finished bag of chips and setting them on the counter. They’re clipped with a bright red chip-clip from the grocery store and Kei thinks that because of that, they shouldn’t have gone stale yet. If it were the peak of summer, Kei might think twice, but this time of year, they should be fine.

Then, he bends down to get a large white mixing bowl from a lower cabinet. Their plates and bowls are kept in various different cabinets, though the only reason they stay somewhat organized is because of Kei. 

“Done already?” You lean your hip against the counter. 

“With what?” Kei struggles to keep his eyes from following the line of your body. 

“Hanging out,” you smile lightly. 

“Not really,” he says. “Just needed a minute and decided to get more snacks.” 

“Wanna go sit outside for a bit then?” 

Kei glances into the living room where the group chatters away. He’d hate to be stopped on the way. 

“Relax,” you laugh. “They’re so caught up they won’t even notice that we’re gone.” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and then shrugs, swallowing his heart down with the spit that has pooled in his mouth. He follows you out of the front door, shutting it with a quiet click and heading down the steps of the complex and to the concrete wall lining the shrubbery outside. It’s the same place you’d come back to talk to him at all those weeks ago, though he is in considerably better spirits than he was then. 

It’s a cool night, the gentle heat of the day completely burned off to make way for a crisp breeze. He inhales, wishing that he had brought a drink to fiddle with and sip on to distract him from his nerves. 

You sit beside him, leaning back on your palms with your legs outstretched in front of you. Your hand is only a few inches from his and Kei sucks in a breath when he accidentally touches it while he gets comfortable. You only offer him a little smile in response. 

“Sorry again about bringing the troops here,” you speak first. 

“That’s really okay,” he says. “Contrary to popular belief, I actually really like them.” 

You snort. “I hope so.” 

Kei inhales louder than he intends to and when you look at him like he’s going to say something, he just holds his breath and shakes his head. The air only leaves him when you finally look away. 

“Kind of a bummer though,” you start, “I was kinda excited about just hanging out with you.” 

Kei’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows to move the metaphorical blockage. 

“We hang out all the time though,” he says like it’s enough. Of course it’s not enough. 

“Guess so,” you smile a little, though Kei can hear the distinct turn of disappointment in your voice. 

“You know,” he starts, already embarrassed at what he’s going to admit. “I wanted to be your friend for a while.” 

“Oh yeah?” you smile, opening up again and turning towards him. “Why?” 

Kei shrugs, resisting the urge to shut down completely. It’s embarrassing admitting to someone that you wanted to know them before you actually knew them. 

“You kind of reminded me of Tadashi,” he says. “And you both got along so well.” 

“Tadashi? I’m nothing like Tadashi,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

“What? No, you two are so similar,” Kei insists, lacing his fingers together. 

“What about us is so similar?” 

“Well, you’re both sociable and warm and…” Kei trails off. He can’t really think of anything else. You look at him with an expectant look in your eyes. 

“See?” 

Kei realizes that the two of you are not similar at all. Your warmth is where the similarity stops. He’d been likening you to Tadashi this entire time, not because the two of you are similar, but because you make him feel similar to the way Tadashi does. Safe and comfortable, though with the added addition of deeply awkward. He realizes that without the safety net of you being like Tadashi, he’s never had any ability to deny his feelings and with that they rage full force around the corner and slam into his chest like a heavy blow. 

“We’re nothing like each other,” you laugh and lean back against your palms. “Though, it would be cool to be like Tadashi.” 

Kei experiences the sudden realization that he doesn’t want you to be like Tadashi. Kei wants you to be like him. He wants you to be greedy and want him the same way he wants you. He wants you to be able to keep up with his turns and his moods, something he didn’t realize he wanted in the first place. If you’re like Kei, then Kei doesn’t have to be afraid of showing you the worst. You’ll have already seen it. If you’re like Kei and he loves you, then what is stopping you from loving him? 

“Even if you’re not like Tadashi, that’s fine.” His cheeks burn. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I like you all the same,” he admits quietly. 

“The same? As Tadashi?” You purse your lips a little. “I thought I was a little different. Was I wrong?” 

Kei wants to kiss you. Kei wants to kiss you so badly that his mouth has gone dry and his lips feel like they’ve separated from his body. Anything he’d thought about not wanting anything with you flies out of the window with your proximity. You’re so close to him. Close enough that if he leaned a little to the right, his shoulder would be against yours. You’re so close and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for something, implying that somehow you’re different from Tadashi. Implying that you want him to like you differently than the way he likes his platonic friend. 

“No, you’re different,” he says, taking the bait you’ve laid in front of him. His heart pounds and he can’t look at you. He thinks he’ll kiss you if he does. 

“Am I?” 

Kei can hear the smile in your voice. It makes what you’re saying sound honeyed and curved. 

“Yeah, you are.”

“How so?” 

Kei finally raises his head to look at you. You’re grinning, leaning towards him like you’re watching a show. He feels the way his nerves rise into his throat, pressing against the very back of his tongue. He doesn’t know how to answer or what to say. Well, he does know what to say, he just doesn’t think he can. Kei is good at thinking about emotions, but when it comes time to speak them outloud, it seems that he’s still got a padlock around his throat. So he does what any logical person would do. 

Kei leans forward, pushing against his screaming nerves and trying to ignore the tremble in his hands, and kisses you. It’s awkward and his teeth click against yours before his lips fully settle against your mouth. He feels the breath you draw in, like surprise and relief mixed together, and he finds that he does the same. 

He can see the way your eyes flutter closed through his barely open ones and he realizes that your lips are so warm. He screws his eyes shut when you dip your head forward to move your lips against his. Yours are so warm and soft, like satin. A kiss has never felt like this to Kei before and he finds that he wants to catalog every single one of your reactions. Maybe that’s what he could write in the notebook. Maybe he could write down every single thing that you do that leaves him winded and wanting more. 

Neither of you reach for the other, but he can feel the knuckle of your pinky against his as you slowly kiss each other, tilting your heads side to side. There’s hunger within him, the need to take more than what he’s receiving and a greed he isn’t quite familiar with, but there’s also romance. It’s like a spell that’s yet to be broken, fed by the click of your mouths as they move together. Kei sighs, flooded with the relief of this kind of physical affection, of being honest with himself at how much he likes it. Kei loves the feel of your mouth. He loves the way your lips and tongue feel and he loves that they’re all that he can feel right now. 

The kiss lasts longer than Kei thought it would and by the time he pulls away, you’re both steadily panting and attempting to keep your breathing even. He wants to do it again. He wants it so badly that it makes his chest swell. He wants to do that with you forever, but he swallows down the desire. It’s a temporary fix, but it’s enough for him to choke out what it is he wants to say next. 

“I think I’m in really hot water,” he squeaks. 

“What do you mean?” You breathe out, the playfulness from a few moments earlier long behind you. 

“I think I want you way more than I thought I did,” he admits quietly, the first out loud admittance of his feelings to you. 

You smile a little before speaking. “I think it’s only hot water if the other person doesn’t feel the same way.” 

Your face is still so close to his. “Yeah?” 

It comes out a bit desperate, like he needs reassurance. Kei does. He’s so afraid that he thinks he could die. Afraid of the spell breaking, afraid of losing whatever moment this is and being forced to return to his one-sided pining, afraid that you don’t feel the same way.

Your face moves closer to him, breath trembling lightly. “Yeah.” 

You kiss him again, pressing your lips against his lightly before parting them. He’s so overwhelmed and so immediately lost in it. Kei feels the way your tongue teases the inside of his mouth and it makes him feel like a teenager again, swelling with desires and emotions that he can’t name. You move your hand over his, placing it lightly on top of his, and he reacts by lacing your fingers together and pushing forward more. 

Kei wants to touch you so badly, to reach up and hold your face, to touch your waist and your legs and your chest. He wants to do it all, to feel you right here under the cover of night, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses you and stews in the desire, letting it swell in his chest as he listens to the clicking of your mouths. You kiss him so slowly, moving your mouth at a languid pace. It drives him crazy. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“We should go back inside, I think,” you break away, your bottom lip shiny with a sheen of spit. “The others might think something’s up and Tanaka isn’t exactly good with discretion.”

Kei automatically reaches up to swipe it with his thumb. He doesn’t know where this affection comes from, where the possessive action found its origins, but he finds that he likes the way it feels to be able to do it in the first place. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Kei responds, though he would have been happy to continue sitting out here with you, kissing you silly. 

You stand first, dusting off the back of your legs and waiting for Kei to follow suit. When he does, you reach quickly for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before walking in front of him. 

Kei is not sure how he should act when he goes inside. He’s tense all over, desperate to pick up where the two of you left off, and unsure if his face betrays that thought. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Tadashi asks as Kei closes the door behind him. 

In the time you’d both been gone, the living room has been transformed into something nearly unrecognizable. Empty beer cans are strewn about the tables and the blankets and pillows from the couches are now haphazardly laying around beside the couch or over people’s bodies. Then again, maybe the room always looked like this and he was just too busy thinking about how close you were to him. 

Kei doesn’t know what to say. Why had they gone outside in the first place? He’s not even sure that he remembers. 

“I wanted a cigarette and I made Kei come with me,” you answer evenly. “Why? You jealous?” 

“Of inhaling second-hand smoke? No, thanks.” Tadashi laughs, but he tosses Kei a sideways glance. Tadashi knows him well enough to know that Kei wouldn’t voluntarily stand outside with a smoker unless he was particularly fond of them. 

“Aw, man, I thought you quit?” Hinata pipes up, tilting his head. 

“I did, hot stuff,” you respond, sitting down on the couch. “Don’t worry. I won’t smoke anymore.” 

Hinata huffs and Kei takes the opportunity to sit down next to you. 

His thigh is pressed against yours, warmth seeping through his pants and into his skin. Kei feels like he could explode. You’re so close to him again, closer than before, and he can’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. He’s desperate for it, fidgety with his desire. He keeps thinking about the hot press of your mouth and the languid motion of your tongue. All he can imagine is the few points of contact between you both, mouth and hands, and how badly he wanted it to be more. He needs it. 

You touch him a few times throughout the night and the tension is so palpable that Kei is convinced he can see it. It’s like there is a rope pulled taut between the two of you. If he doesn’t stick his ground, he’ll go flying towards you, grabbing and touching and taking in the way he’s desperate to now. 

After an hour, his friends begin to grow restless. Their faces are flushed with alcohol and the things they’d been amusing themselves with are no longer enough stimulation. 

“Hey, we’re going out to the bars. Who’s coming?” Hinata speaks up. 

A chorus of agreement rings out, but the last thing Kei wants to do is go out.

“I think I’ll probably stay back and start cleaning,” he says somewhat disdainfully. “It’s a mess in here,” Kei tosses you a small glance. It’s unintentional but he’s glad for it because Kei is hoping that you’ll stay back with him, that you both can pick up where you left off. 

“I’ll stay and help too. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow anyway,” you smile and Hinata pouts. 

“You guys are so boring,” he protests. “Leave the mess for tomorrow and come out with us.” 

“I’ll pass, pipsqueak,” Kei scoffs. 

“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’re full of regret tomorrow,” he points a finger at Kei and then moves it over to you. “And you’re too nice for your own good.” 

“Do you hear that?” You say, beginning to usher the group to the door. “I think it’s the sound of the bar and all that alcohol calling to you guys.” 

“You guys are so full of shit-” Kageyama starts, speaking up for the first time in a while, but Kei just waves him out. 

“Yeah yeah, let the grown ups clean while you guys have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The rope is so taut between you both that it’s unbearable and by the time the door closes, you are spinning around on your heel toward Kei. 

“We’re not cleaning, right?” 

Kei shakes his head and starts towards you. The tension breaks when his hands find your hips and he hungrily leans down to press his mouth against yours. 

This kiss is different from the first, desperate and full of desire. It’s fast and your mouths move together quickly as he starts to walk you back towards his bedroom, his hands eagerly roaming up and down your hips. Vaguely, he acknowledges that his glasses have been moved out of place, but he pays it no mind as you turn the knob to his bedroom door with your back to it. 

There’s an urgency to his movements. Kei feels it in his chest, this desperate desire to be closer, to consume everything that you’ve laid out in the palm of his hand. You stumble backwards into his room and Kei catches your shifted weight with a hand around your waist. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warm skin on your jaw and neck. His fingers tremble where they touch you, half out of desperate need and half out of the nerves that threaten to spill from his mouth. His lips though, are occupied with yours, clicking together, all tongue and teeth. 

Kei kisses sloppily down your jaw, his lips smearing across your cheek and dipping down below your ear. He sucks a trail there, unsure if he’s leaving marks, all the way down to your collarbone. Every part of you tastes better than he’d expected it to and with every push he delivers, you pull. 

You make small sounds, little pants and groans that make Kei’s hair stand on end with wanting. Your voice, so familiar and fond to him, spills out in small, breath-like bursts that make Kei want to coax more out of you. Kei’s never been one to want this way, but right now, it’s all that he feels. So much tension and impulse that he feels like he can hardly control himself. 

You reach blindly behind you for the bed and Kei guides you down, placing his hand on one side of you as you sit. Then, without disconnecting your lips, he guides you up toward the wall. 

He feels the cool tips of your fingers at the hem of his shirt, pulling downward and then upward to get him to take it off. Kei obliges you, leaning back on his knees and pulling it off over the top of his head. You eye him for a moment, the two of you slowing down enough as the urgency settles into something heavy and lingering. 

Kei leans forward again, one of his hands reaching for your hip. He slips his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding his long fingers up your stomach as he kisses you again. You’re so soft and he can feel the way your chest heaves against his palm. His touch is feather light and he slides it up evenly until it reaches just below your breast. When you nod, Kei moves it up over your bra and he feels you shudder. Kei does the same, overwhelmed by your pliability. 

He can feel the goosebumps that have raised on your skin, little pinpricks of skin that indicate that some part of you feels good. When Kei squeezes your breast, you gasp into his moan and he groans his response, letting you bite at his bottom lip. 

He feels you suck at his lips and swipe your tongue along the ridge of his mouth. When he opens it to let you in, he’s overtaken by the warmth of the soft muscle. He groans, tilting his head down to kiss you deeper, letting the taste of you spread over his mouth. It’s hot and your breath fans across his face. 

Kei hands drift from your breasts along the sides of your body. He feels the heave of your breath there against your warm skin, his palms resting on your waist. You raise your knees, the sides of them pressing against Kei’s hips. He shifts downwards slowly, dragging his mouth along your skin, past the cloth of your shirt. 

His hands make their way from your waist to your hips as he dips lower. Kei takes off his glasses, already fogged up and in the way. When he meets your eyes, you nod your permission and Kei slips between your legs, his flat palms moving to spread your thighs. 

You’re so warm and soft, so pliable in a way that Kei can’t articulate. It makes his mouth water with his desperation and he’s grown hard against the bedspread beneath him. 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

Kei nods into your stomach, looping his fingers around our waistband, and pulls down your pants. Your panties come with it and it’s with a slight wave of regret that he realizes he won’t get to see the way you stick to them. 

When he sees you, his heart leaps into his throat. His eagerness and his nerves catch up to him and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. You shudder when the air hits your exposed cunt, an unintentional side effect of Kei’s nerves that has him grinding down against the bedspread. 

He slides his palm to rest over your center. It’s warm and sticky, wet beyond what Kei had imagined and he gingerly presses a finger between your folds. You gasp, mouth falling open above him. Then, he slides his finger into you to the first knuckle, curling up. Kei goes deeper on the second pump, curling his whole finger inside of you and feeling the way you tighten around him. 

You arch your back up off the bed and Kei groans and rolls his eyes, resting his head on the inside of your exposed thigh. He curls his fingers in you, watching the way they coat with your pleasure. His eyebrows are knit together, like he’s asking whether you like how he touches you or not, and you seem to pick up on his insecurity, nodding your head before letting it tip back against Kei’s pillows. 

Kei thinks your expression is incredible. Your eyebrows pull up in the center, pretty face twisted and mouth slightly open in an expression of undeniable pleasure. Kei’s stomach winds at the look of it and he ruts his hips against the mattress to quell the growing ache of need. His fingers, which curl at a slow and even pace inside of you, are warm with your enjoyment. It leaks between his knuckles, sliding down the back of his hand like a slow moving syrup. He wonders whether you have more to give and how you taste, his gaze slinking from your face to the place just above where his fingers disappear. 

He lowers his mouth to you without thinking, curious and needing the taste of it. Sure enough, you have more to give. Your voice comes quickly, a small gasp that is stifled by the back of your hand when he sucks sharply on your clit. Your hips push forward against his hands and then you arch up off the mattress with a small cry. Kei wonders if you’ve cum. He wonders if he’s sent you over the edge, but if he has, you’re taking all of it so well that he doesn’t dare stop. 

The taste of you spreads on his tongue, tangy and warm. You invade his senses violently, like you are gripping his throat. Kei holds his mouth to you, pressing the length of his cock into the mattress and moving his hips like he plans to fuck it. 

He moves his free hand down your thigh and onto the inside of your leg. Your skin is so soft. It’s so vulnerable, something easily pierced and bled. Kei’s pointer finger rubs gentle circles there, feeling the slight pull of the soft skin with his fingers, so thin that it almost feels like tissue paper. He’s sure that with a little pressure, you would bruise. 

The thought surprises him. He works his tongue across your clit and his fingers against that gummy spot inside of you, but his mind drifts to the softness of your inner thigh, the way it would be so easy to leave a spot that might hurt later when you press on it, remind you of exactly where he was. Then, Kei pinches you on the inside of your thigh and when you cry out, tightening around his fingers with a tapered moan, he pinches you again, harder this time. 

You whimper slightly, like you like it. No, you sound like you love it and Kei finds himself holding back a choked moan as he tries not to cum prematurely. He pinches along the inside of your legs and around the back. Not too much. Only when he feels like it. Only when he wants to hear what kind of sounds you’ll make. 

“K-Kei wait, wait,” you pant, grabbing him by his tufts of blonde hair. It hurts. He doesn’t think you mean to hurt him, but it doesn’t matter. He likes it and he twitches in his pants. 

“Huh?” He hums, detaching from your clit and slowing the movement of his fingers to a halt. Your legs shake around his handiwork. “You okay?” 

“I’ll cum if you keep going like that,” you breathe, screwing your eyes shut like you’re still on the edge. “Drag it out for me, yeah?” 

Kei furrows his eyebrows and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Cum if you want to.” He tilts his head down to reattach his lips. 

“Not yet,” you tug at his hair. “I like chasing it.” 

Kei stares at you, unblinking and awestruck. Your chest heaves and despite the pleasure on your face, you look uncomfortable as your orgasm slips away from you. Kei likes that look on your face and he finds himself growing greedy. 

“Come here,” you coax him onto the mattress. 

Kei watches as you slip your hands into the waistband of his jeans and pull them down, leaving him on his back with his tented boxers exposed. You crawl down his body and settle between his legs with your arms between his thighs. He shudders when you run your hands up them and he briefly sees his boxers jump. 

You smile, pressing your mouth to him through his boxers. Kei can’t stifle the groan that escapes him and heat floods his face when you raise your eyebrows in response. 

“You don’t have to,” he says through gritted teeth as you slip the waistband of his boxers down. 

“But I want to,” you mumble, taking him in your hand and placing a kiss on the side of his dick. 

Kei’s head falls back against the pillow and he swears under his breath when he feels the warmth of your mouth close around the tip of him. He jerks his head up to see, awestruck by the way your lips look around the head of his cock. 

For some reason, Kei is already so sensitive. He feels everything, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue along his slit as you bob your head, he makes a noise he didn’t think he could make. His fingers knot themselves in the bed sheets, white knuckled and trembling while you bob your head over him. 

Your mouth is so warm and wet. It’s a little messy, dripping down the length of him and onto his balls. Kei feels the warmth, the heat of you. He can still taste you on his tongue. Kei can still feel the stickiness left behind from your arousal on his mouth. The combination of you between his legs and the taste of you on his tongue is overwhelming. 

Kei can feel his orgasm growing in his lower stomach, turning over until he’s bringing his long fingers to your head in an effort to steady himself. There’s nothing he can do but give in, watching you through damp eyes as you watch his expression. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he cums. It doesn’t take long and he teeters on the edge for a few moments before fully cresting over. Kei can’t help the way he lifts his hips from the mattress, his voice caught in his throat as it hooks on a high pitched groan. His voice cracks and he feels the way his cum collects on your tongue and across the tip of his dick in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, red faced and panting, “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean to finish so quickly, you’re just-” 

“It’s fine,” you come up, your eyes glassed over and lust-filled. “I like making you feel good.” 

“Yeah but-” 

“No buts,” you crawl over him and straddle his waist. Kei winces when your weight briefly nudges his cock. “There’s still fun to be had. Can I kiss you?” 

He nods and you lean down to do as you’d asked. Your tongue moves slowly against his, less desperate this time, like you’re trying to work him down and back up again. You place your hands on his chest, settling your weight down so that your bare cunt is pressed against his sensitive cock. Kei thinks he might die. 

He brings his hands to your waist, the fatigue creeping from his bones as he digs the pads of his fingers into your fleshy sides. You draw in a breath when he does and it makes Kein feel like he’s tipping sideways with arousal. Everything that you do, right down to the involuntary twitch of your hips or eyebrows, is sexy. 

Kei turns you over, growing hard between your legs again, and gently pins you to the mattress. He kisses you for a moment longer, his lips working clumsily across yours before he pulls away to catch his breath and find his bearings. 

You chase him with your mouth, tilting your head up to kiss him. Kei feels his chest swell with arousal and his cock strains almost painfully against his pants as he peers at you. You’re so pretty. Everything about you is so pretty. On his chest, he can feel your fingers, splayed over his pecks, across his collarbone, and grazing the side of his neck. He leans closer, loving the pressure of your body and the desperation that pours from your skin. 

Kei kisses you again. He kisses you the way he wanted to outside, dipping his tongue into your mouth with a desperation that he can taste. You take control back, reaching between the two of you, and Kei shifts himself upward instinctually to give you access to him. He feels your fingers fumble for him and there’s a pause in which Kei doesn’t know what to do. He wonders if this might be the part of him that you like. The awkward part, the one that doesn’t know what to do. Kei’s thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your hand wrapping around him and tugging upward. 

His head drops and a low groan escapes his lips before he can even think to stop it. Kei’d almost forgotten his sensitivity, how desperately he wants to be touched, how overwhelming it feels. He shivers, looking down at where your hand wraps around him and pumps. When he looks back up, he finds that you’re looking at his face, your eyes glassed over and observant as you commit all of his expressions to memory. 

“What?” he says, letting out a shuddering breath and the slight overstimulation. 

“Your face is red,” you reach up with your free hand to run your thumb along his cheek. 

Kei huffs, dropping his head and you fiddle with something between the two of you.

“No,” you pick his chin up. “I like it. It’s cute.” 

You tighten your grip around him and Kei feels his expression twist, a new rush of heat and desire flooding his belly as he realizes you’re sliding a condom onto him. Then, you guide the tip of him between your legs and he feels the wet press of your entrance against him. 

“Christ,” he groans. 

You smile slightly, shifting your hips a little and then placing your hands on his shoulders. Kei pushes forward slowly, his thighs twitching. It takes everything he has to keep from cumming again and every muscle in his body screams with a desire to let go. 

Kei is so overwhelmed, partially because you feel so good, but also because there is some part of him that knows this feels different. Kei feels different about you, about being intimate with you, than he has with anyone else. There’s something alive in him, something with its own mind. Something greedy and vulnerable that stirs when your face is this close to him, when he’s buried all the way in you to the base of his cock. Emotional and sensitive, Kei feels it kick. 

His first instinct is to run. Agreeing to let himself like you, to let himself do something about it, was not agreeing to letting something live inside of him. Kei’s first thought when he registers the difference is to cut it off and suffocate it so that it stops thumping against his chest. He’d grown so used to the hollow feeling that the feeling of living emotion makes him nervous, it puts him on edge. But when he pulls out a few inches and fucks back into you, the anxiety dispels into insurmountable pleasure. A pleasure Kei can’t describe, something fulfilling and whole. 

He picks up his pace, letting himself do what he wants while you grip his shoulders with blunted nails. He likes the expression you wear. Truthfully, he likes all of your expressions, but this one is new. Pressure and pleasure, a newness to the feel of him inside of you that you can’t quite keep from your eyes or lips. He kisses you as if he could taste it, slipping his tongue between your lips. 

“I really like you,” you mumble against his mouth, breath hot as it fans across his cheeks. 

Kei’s heart hammers and his hips stutter a little. 

“Me too,” he chokes, trying to think about volleyball to stave off a second orgasm. All that comes to mind though, is you. 

“Are you close again?” you breathe, voice laden with pleasure. 

“I have been since we started,” Kei admits. 

“Cum then,” you say softly, reaching behind his head to pull his mouth back to yours. Kei likes the control you exhibit. He groans his approval.

“You first,” he mutters.

There’s this possessive part of Kei that wants to watch you fall apart on him. He wants to see it, to watch you feel good too and commit it to memory so that he can always keep it. He thinks it’s a pride thing, something attached to his desire to succeed, to his reliability. Maybe though, it’s just because he thinks it’ll look hot. 

He reaches down and lifts one of your legs up by the back of your knee, pressing it down to give himself better access. You whine and Kei feels the way you clench down around him, your fingers knitting into the hair at the back of his neck. It hurts in a good way. 

Kei slips his hand between you, rubbing circles on your clit to get you there faster. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can last like this, staring down at your face while it twists with pleasure. You’re so attractive to him. Everything about you is sexy. It makes Kei a little crazy. 

He listens as your breathing quickens, as your voice wavers further. He feels the way your cunt begins to flutter faster, pulsing around him until you attempt to cry out and warn him. Then, you clamp down around him, arching your hips up off the mattress and pulling at his hair. Kei moves his head with you, relishing in the way you tug and scratch. 

He builds up to his orgasm so fast that it hurts. There’s pressure and then the mounting feeling of nearing the top, and then the peak and crash. He cums so hard that it hurts, pushing his cock as far as it will go into you and feeling the warm spill of his cum in the condom. He moans a long, drawn out sound that you mimic, his fingers knitting into the pillow behind you and his head dropping so that his lips sit near your neck.

He lets out a shaky breath, letting himself sit inside of you for a moment. You turn his head towards yours and kiss him. It’s gentle. A smooth and languid kiss that neither of you moves to deepen. Your lips move against each other and Kei closes his eyes to savor the taste. 

You tap his shoulder and Kei rolls over onto the bed beside you, snapping the condom off with a small wince and tying it up in a quick motion. He places it in the trash bin beside the bed. When he turns over, you’re already moving to slip under his arm, resting your head on his chest. 

There’s a passing moment of silence, not unlike the ones you both have fallen into before and you sigh lightly against his exposed chest. Kei follows suit, watching the way you move with his breath. 

His skin is sticky against yours and Kei can vaguely register the smell of sweat in the room. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since everyone left, nor does he know when they’ll be back, but he estimates that it won’t be more than an hour. Kei briefly wishes that he could pause time so that he can stay here with you, just like this. 

“I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” Kei admits quietly. 

“What stuff?” You ask, tracing your finger along the ridges of his lean abdomen. 

“Liking people,” he says. “Dating.” 

You give a small laugh. “No offense, Kei, but I could tell that from the moment I met you.” 

“Shit, seriously?” 

“Duh,” you breathe out. “It’s a little charming to me, though. I like that part of you.” 

So it’s true. You like the parts of Kei that he’s always worried were the worst of him. 

“Huh,” he says. “Could you tell?” 

“That you like me?” You ask, shifting your head to look at him. “Yeah, it was obvious after we established that you didn’t hate me. I always noticed you staring in the library.” 

“Really? I thought I was being a little slick with that,” Kei feels heat and color flood his face. 

You let out a good-natured laugh. “People can always tell when someone’s staring, Kei. It’s like a sixth sense.” 

“Good to know. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.” 

Another bout of silence follows. 

“You can keep staring though,” you say, “if you want to. And calling.”

“Okay,” Kei responds, “I didn’t really plan on stopping.” 

“Ha, freaky,” you laugh a little and Kei reaches up to flick the side of your head. “Wanna start going out?” 

Kei thinks about this for a moment. He thinks about being able to hold your hand, brush hair out of your face, watch movies on the couch and fix your breakfast the next morning. Then he thinks about not being able to do those things. 

“I think I’d be a little upset if we didn’t,” he admits. 

“Good,” you say. “Me too.” 

He’s fighting off sleep. His eyelids are heavy and he tries to blink away the shroud of rest that’s falling over him. Kei knows you’re fighting it too. Your breathing goes in and out of that familiar breathing that comes with sleep. Kei likes the way it sounds coming from you, restful and quiet. 

“We should… really get up to clean just a little,” he mumbles. 

“Five more minutes,” you say softly, your voice heavy and laden with drowsiness. 

“Okay,” he says. 

It’s just five more minutes. Kei fights sleep to hear you breathe like this a little longer. 

—

There’s a period after which Kei doesn’t know what to do with himself. Like the awkward start to a new hobby or passion, Kei finds himself enthralled with his budding relationship while simultaneously stumbling continuously along the way. You’re gracious with him though, letting him make mistakes and fumble until he finds his footing. 

It’s all very awkward for him, very new. He finds that it’s easier to just do the nice things he wants to do for you than to agonize over it and slowly, he begins to grow comfortable in the relationship that took you both so long to begin. 

At first, only Tadashi knew about you both. Kei thought that there was no point in hiding it from him, since you were over at the apartment all the time. Of course, Tadashi somehow already knew. That’s how it usually goes anyway, and Kei is relieved to find that his internal change did not trigger some global shift that would turn his life upside down. Everything is normal, save for the fact that Kei now tries to love without hindrance. 

Kei discovers that he’s possessive. That’s a new trait of his that he didn’t know belonged to him. Before you, before Kei had found something he so desperately wanted to keep, he’d been rather detached. Possessiveness was rare because Kei hardly ever got attached enough to want. Now though, he wants so badly that it hurts. You lean into it. Kei suspects that you like it when he wards off people who hit on you, when he pouts a little because he wants to be close to you, when he gets a little jealous. Kei doesn’t really mind it either. After all, despite his possessiveness, he never feels insecure. The both of you make sure of that. 

This sunny period with you, the one Kei worried would only last a week, drifts easily from one month into two and before he knows it, it’s been five. Kei had worried about that fundamental change. The one imperceivable to the human eye. He’d worried that slowly, it would begin to spoil what is so good between the two of you. 

“Kei,” you snap him out of it, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?” 

He sets down his cup of tea, barely touched. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet?” You give him a wry smile. “This was your idea, after all.” 

“Yeah, well it was a pretty shit idea actually,” he breathes, “My parents aren’t exactly easy.” 

“You want to cancel?” You ask, your eyebrows pulling up in a clumsy attempt to hide your disappointment. Kei can see right through it.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want you to meet them. I just don’t want you to meet them.” 

The truth of it is that Kei would like to cancel. In an ideal world, one where the sun rises on the opposite side of his bedroom window, he’d forget the whole thing and take you out to get dinner and see a movie. Things would be simpler that way, less uncomfortable for the both of you. But as uncomfortable as it is, Kei wants you to be a part of their lives too. You’re too important to not introduce to his parents and Kei can’t see it any other way, though he’d like to. 

You snort. “What does that even mean?” 

Kei gives you a pointed and somewhat irritated look. 

“Okay, sorry,” you raise your hands defensively and walk over to place them on his shoulders. “I know you’re worried, but I think it’s going to be okay. I’m excited.” 

Kei huffs out a laugh, unable to vocalize his nerves in their totality. “Excited to meet my dysfunctional, divorced parents that kind of hate each other?” 

“Yup. I’m excited to meet the people who raised you.” 

Kei smiles a little. “You should meet Akiteru, then,” It’s an exaggeration, but for some reason the prospect of seeing both of his parents together has him feeling a little more bitter than usual, even if it was his idea. 

You give him a little grin through narrowed eyes. There’s an understanding that passes from you to him, like you’re acknowledging that you haven’t forgotten what he’d told you nearly six months ago. Kei feels the tension in his shoulders relax a little. 

His parents are already at the restaurant when he arrives. It’s a swanky Italian place. The kind you go to on birthdays or for anniversaries, where the pasta dishes are things like lobster mushroom ravioli or truffle oil fettucini in tiny portions. Kei made sure to book somewhere that his parents would have trouble making a scene in, not that they ever had much of a mind for decorum when they were married. He’s surprised to find them chatting cordially when you both arrive. 

“Kei,” his mother stands from the table and crosses to give him a hug. He pats her back gently.

“Hi Mom,” Kei responds and she gives him a small smile. 

Kei’s dad adjusts the lapel of his suit, the same one he’s had for years, and reaches to give him a hug around one shoulder. 

“Guys,” he inhales, “This is my partner, _____.” 

You grin at Kei and then introduce yourself formally to his parents. Kei watches in awe as you blend right in, like you’ve known them for many years. He sits down while trying to keep the nerves from his face. 

“We’re so happy to meet you,” his mother starts, “Kei’s never introduced us to any of his partners before.” 

“I’m the first?” You smile a little, raising an eyebrow at Kei as if to tease him. 

“There really haven’t been that many to begin with,” Kei grumbles as if that somehow makes it better. 

You laugh again and the ball of conversation begins rolling. His mother tells you how pretty you are and his father nods a quieter approval. They talk about his university’s graduation ceremony, which they attended separately, as if they were together the entire time and then ask about your major, if you graduated with him, where you plan on going. You tell them what you want to do and that you want to go wherever Kei goes. He marvels at how smoothly the evening moves onward.

There are moments where the tension in his family becomes obvious. Little swells or comments that bring up a sour or shameful memory that cannot be ignored. Moments when the air thickens and it feels like the hammer is about to come down. It never does though. The tension, rather than snapping, simply fades away. 

He’d expected everything to blow up for some reason. Kei had expected that, like his childhood, the restaurant dishes would end up smashed on the floor. The glassware always ended up broken in the house, why shouldn’t they be broken here to shatter the illusion of things being good? He braces himself for a ball that never drops.

It takes him until the ride home, after a successful dinner, to realize that the dishes haven’t been smashed in years. Not since he was fourteen and his parents fought for custody. Not since his mother got remarried to her now husband almost 6 years ago and his father met his new wife. Kei wonders why he still feels like he lives in that house. The one his parents were at their worst in. Why can’t he feel like he lives in the apartment he rents with Tadashi? 

“I think that went well,” you say softly on the drive back. 

Kei nods his agreement. “I think so too.” 

You don’t bring up the fact that they didn’t fight, or that they spoke about their new kids with each other as if they were old friends. You don’t accuse Kei of being wrong, of being paranoid even though he most definitely was. 

“I’m glad that I got to meet them,” you say. “You look so much like your mom.” 

“Really?” Kei asks. 

“Yeah, you’ve got her eyes and her nose,” you smile a little. “It makes you two look similar.” 

“Huh,” he says. “I never really gave that much thought.” 

Kei turns the idea that he has his mother’s face over in his head. He’d spent so much time dreading that he was like them on the inside, that he never paused to consider the outside. So much of his life has been spent worrying that he’s just like them. That he breaks the plates and lashes out and acts cruelly even when he’s trying to love. But he has his mother’s eyes and for some reason that unsettles him. It’s like evidence. 

“You don’t really act like them though,” you say as if on cue. “You’re a little gentler.” 

“Me? Gentle?” Kei scoffs. 

“Yeah!” you say. “I mean, sure you’re prickly, but there’s a goodness to you that’s really obvious if you look.” 

Goodness. What a strange word to use to describe someone. Kei thinks that if there’s any goodness in him, if there’s anything that hasn’t been tainted by his parents’ sour personalities, it’s from Akiteru. Kei likes to believe that whatever good he got was from him. No matter how strained his relationship with him might be now, Kei is certain of that. 

“That’s a relief,” he admits in a flat tone. 

After a long pause, he speaks again. “Thanks.” 

“For what?” You laugh. 

“Bearing with me… and with them,” he says. “Couldn’t have been easy.” 

“It was easy,” you say. “Because I wanted to meet them. And I care about you.” 

Kei feels color rise to his cheeks. He turns to look in the sideview mirrors as he pulls the car into a parking spot in his apartment complex’s garage. 

“You say that stuff so easily,” he huffs. 

“What? That I care about you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I do,” you laugh a little.

Kei’s face grows hotter and he distracts himself by putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. 

“Me too,” he says quietly, waiting for you to catch up so that he can take your hand in his. “Sorry that I don’t say it a lot.” 

“Not to be rude,” you say, “but even if you never said it at all, it would be obvious. You’re kind of a sucker.” 

Kei supposes that that’s true and he gives a small laugh before nudging your shoulder with his. The parking garage is humid and stuffy, but he holds your hand in it anyway. 

—

You’re half asleep in bed beside him and your breathing comes in even sweeps the way it does just before you fall asleep. Kei listens to it for a moment, admiring the sound of it and the way your chest feels expanding against his. 

He thinks about dinner, about how good it feels to have introduced you. How real it makes this relationship feel despite the uneasiness surrounding his familial situation. Kei thinks about his parents. He thinks about their inability to be good for each other. He thinks about the worst of them, something he’s familiar with, before thinking about the best of them. Kei imagines the way their faces looked at dinner, talking about the children they’re raising properly. They’re good people, they just made each other bad. Molecular shifts that changed them for the worst. The notebook theory in its most frightening form. But they were good too. 

Kei thinks about loving you. His reluctance to do so originally isn’t quite beyond him yet. He’s unsure, in fact, if he’ll ever really get past the fear of the fall, the fear of becoming what his parents made each other. But he also thinks about his promise to love you for real. Love is not something that Kei does. He knows now that it's something that happens to him, like it happened to his parents. They loved each other once, even if it made them so blind that they couldn’t see just how bad it made them. 

Kei still resents the fact that he was born to fix a marriage that never would have worked in the first place. He resents being a fix rather than a gift, but at the very least, his existence is proof that his parents cared enough about their family to try. Even if it was misguided, at least they tried even a little. 

In the quiet after of an emotionally charged evening, loving you seems like an easier task for him now. It’s not hard to love you. What’s hard, Kei thinks, is not hurting you. He carries a lot of baggage that, for a long while, felt like too much. Kei thinks he can manage if it’s for you. He’ll bear the brunt of it. He’ll put in the work. 

Yes, Kei is his parents’ son, but he’s also Tadashi’s friend, Akiteru’s brother, the person who loves you. He doesn’t live in the house with a bin full of shards and no glassware anymore. 

“Are you awake?” He whispers across the pillow. 

“Mhm,” you hum, pushing your cheek into his arm.

“Let’s move in together,” he says. 

You tense against him and slowly attempt to blink away sleep. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responds. “I want to live with you.” 

“Okay then,” you smile a little. “Let’s do it.” 

—

In the fall, when his lease with Tadashi ends and his friend gives him a tearful, yet somewhat silly goodbye, Kei moves into your new shared apartment. Two small rooms in a modest part of town, a shared kitchen and living room, one bathroom, a mismatch of furniture from both of your old places, and an empty fridge. The first night is spent eating take out on the floor with you in front of a TV with no proper stand. Kei has never been happier. 

And in the morning, when the sun comes through the slats of his window, broken up into gentle dots by the orange-leaved trees outside, Kei rises slowly. He rises gently. Kei doesn’t want to wake you, not before he’s made breakfast. He pads out to the kitchen, where boxes are strewn about, half unpacked, and grabs the little brown notebook from the box it’s been temporarily living in. In it, he writes a grocery list full of the things you like. It’s a good enough reason, a good enough change. 

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

Usually, a Friday evening without management would've been a hurdle you'd be able to pass with minimal struggle, though within the business of Christmastime, Erwin's absence had been noticed. Hange and yourself had worked through the rush, quick feet and rapid movements appearing to catch up with you toward the end of your shift, limbs aching as you'd flipped the sign to closed, sluggishly beginning the clean-up. 

Relief had washed over you as you'd wiped the sweat from your brow, making your way to the staff-room to grab your coat before you'd leave for the night. Hange had emerged moments later, wide smile over their face as they'd pulled their jacket over their shoulders. You'd displayed a confused expression at their out of place body-language - given the context of the shift you'd shared, they should've been moping. 

"What're you smiling about?" The question had come off slightly harsher than intended, though Hange ignored the delivery, excited tone as they'd raised a finger, brown eyes lingering over your slouched body. "Erwin's not back until next week." They'd spoken, causing your chest to tighten as you'd gasped, disdain overtaking your countenence. "That means," Hange continued. "Levi will be coming in." 

Of course. The regional manager, Levi Ackerman, would take over Erwin's place as he'd been away, a small black haired male you'd had the pleasure of working with a handful of times. Usually when your manager had been out, he'd come to take over for the small amount of time - and take over he had. Levi would control anything and everything within the shop, and you were sure for the number of years you'd known him, he'd only said negative things to you. He'd been more than particular about the way drinks were made, but that hadn't been the worst of it - he was a clean freak. Working with him had been unbearable. 

Hange, on the other hand, hadn't been afraid of Levi. They'd laugh, joke, poke-fun at him, all the while he'd make no more than a snide remark back. Levi had known Hange and Erwin in college, apparently respecting Erwin a considerable amount, while Hange had been an annoying child the pair had somehow befriended. How Levi tolerated them you hadn't understood, and the same had gone for the pair to him, because they'd been the furthest from sharing anything in common. 

When you'd arrived for your shift the following afternoon, you'd arrived with low expectations. Eyes flickering to the grey ones behind the counter before you'd gone to change, you'd felt some amount of nausea. He'd looked stoic as ever, crease-less uniform sitting almost too perfectly upon his small frame, jaw clenched. Hange had come in moments after you, abrupt as ever as they'd allowed the rickety wooden door to slam behind them, throwing their belongings lazily against the wall before tying their already filthy apron to their waist. 

Before going out to the floor, you'd checked the rota for the following week. Levi would be covering Erwin's shifts, and, just your luck, you were sharing all of which with him. A lump had formed within your throat at the black ink on the page, picturing shifts alone with him. Today was a Saturday, which had meant you'd at least had Hange to keep you company - there was always three members of staff on a weekend. 

Swapping with Mike behind the counter, you'd taken your place at the till, sighing at the growing line of customers. He'd shot you a sympathetic look before walking to the staff room, readying himself to be free of the joys of customer service.  "Hi, what can I get for you?" Speaking with a smile, you'd questioned the customer before you, listening to their request while tapping along the screen. When they'd gone to wait at the end of the counter, you'd asked the next, until you'd taken four orders. 

Stepping away from the till, you moved to help out with the creation of drinks, popping a paper cup below the machine to start on a latte. Firmly, you bashed the portafilter against the bin to discard the previous coffee, then wiping it over and filling it once more, placing it above the cup and switching the machine on. You'd felt a set of eyes on you as you'd finished the drink, but chose to ignore the feeling until you'd called out the name and handed the beverage to the waiting customer. 

Turning, your suspicions had been confirmed, Levi had been watching your every move.  "Gotta problem?" You questioned, raising a brow. He'd sighed, eyes narrowing as you'd straightened over your apron, anxiously awaiting his complaint.  "You hit the portafilter too hard, and didn't wipe it over enough before refilling it." He commented, crossing an arm over the other.  "Right." Your reply was short and sweet, only to shield yourself from further bashing, turning to the till to take more orders and remove yourself from Levi's judgmental line of sight. 

The queue had been constant, a steady flow of people, all the while you'd fought to keep up with the orders, balancing serving customers with making drinks, and delivering to tables.  "Excuse me!" A voice had shouted you from the other side of the counter, one belonging to a short, blonde woman who'd been waving her hand enthusiastically. Giving her a smile through gritted teeth, you'd requested she give you a moment to finish up the drink you were making before you could serve her. Hange had left for their break, leaving only yourself and Levi to work through the backlog of orders. There had been four people waiting on tables and two to go, with yourself finishing an order, you left Levi to work on the others to save the impatient customer waiting - you weren't ready to have an argument. 

"Hi, how can I help?" The smile painted across your tired cheeks was fake, voice slightly fried from the amount of people you'd had to talk to and a lack of time to grab your own bottle of water.  "I've been waiting so long." She sighed, eyes rolling as her manicured nails came to sit on the counter, french tips tapping on the hard surface.  "I'm sorry for the wait, we've been really busy." You didn't allow your expression to falter, even if you'd wanted to return a snide remark - the regional manager had been within earshot. This was something you'd have to take under the chin.  "Maybe if you'd been doing your job, there wouldn't be such a long queue." Her voice was raised as your face finally slackened, swallowing back your own anxieties to try and alleviate her annoyance.  "Sorry, I've been rushing around trying to-"  "You were standing around behind there doing nothing, I could see you." She had snarled, as you'd flinched at her sudden abrasiveness. "Where's your manager?" She'd questioned, finger raising to point at your heated face, your line of sight moving to the now silent queue of people, all watching in awe as she'd directed her anger toward you. 

"I'm the manager." Levi's voice came from behind you as he'd stepped to stand beside you, brushing his hands on his apron. The customer let out an exhale in amusement, snarky glance to you before continuing her story.  "She's been standing around over there," She began, pointing to the back wall containing a row of coffee machines. "doing nothing, while we've all been waiting for our drinks." Levi let out a controlled breath while she'd moaned on, allowing her to vent before responding. You'd felt a need to defend yourself, the familiar wave of nervousness as she'd spouted her insults toward your work ethic to the regional manager.  "Actually," Levi began, finally interrupting her when he'd realised she wasn't about to stop her offload. "She was doing her job - making coffee." 

The customer had looked dumbfounded for a moment, mouth ajar. "You know, during the holiday season-"  "I don't care about the shitty holiday season, or whatever you have to say about my staff members. Do you want a drink, or not?" Levi's placid tone had almost been startling, expression completely neutral as he'd managed to shut her down. She'd scoffed, before turning on her heel and leaving. 

The pair of you had been left at the counter in silence until you'd felt a hand on your shoulder, excitable voice coming between you. "I'm back!" Hange had exclaimed, smile wide on their face as they'd failed to read the room.  "Go for your break." Levi spoke, gesturing to you. There had been some hesitation in your movements as you'd stepped toward the door, questioning if you'd needed to thank him for diffusing the situation. 

"Oh," Levi began, catching up to stand behind you while you'd spun to face him. "When you're back, just make drinks. Hange will handle the customers." You nodded, before going through the doorway. As you'd sat at the table, you'd wondered what he'd meant by the request, had he thought you incapable of handling people? Placing your head in your hands, you let out a sigh in frustration - working with him would be harder than anticipated. 

When back on the floor, you'd done as he'd requested, staying within the back workspace to pump out each order, though his presence had been somewhat distracting. He'd be watching your every move now you were working beside him, an uncomfortable situation to work through. Though, it'd been only an hour until closing; you'd just have to stick it out. 

When you'd finally hit 6:30, relief had washed over you. Hange was turning the sign to closed, Levi spraying down tables as you'd cleaned the over machines. Closing up had been quick work compared to the six hour shift you'd just endured, mind plagued with worry. Erwin couldn't come back soon enough. 

Monday had been your first shift with Levi where you'd be without an extra pair of hands, though the shop should theoretically be less busy as it had been a week day. When arriving, he'd already been behind the counter, dismissing the supervisor from the morning shift. You'd soon joined him, a throb under your temple when stepping from the staff room to begin the next six hours. He'd been at the till, a few paper cups with black ink to signify the desired beverage, in which you'd began to work through. First, had been a gingerbread latte. 

After the lunchtime rush had fizzled out, a decrease in bodies seated within the cafe, the pair of you had been left to wait idly by. Levi had kept on top of the workspace cleanliness, yourself the seating area, though there had always been an hour of downtime between two-thirty and three-thirty. This part of the day would usually be filled with playful chatter between yourself and Hange, or small talk with Erwin, though Levi hadn't appeared to indulge in either scenarios as he stood with his arms crossed, staring through the window to watch the cars pass by. 

"Do you know how long you'll be here?" You questioned, picking at a loose thread on your apron while awaiting his response to the awkward attempt at conversation. Grey eyes flickered from their fixation on the large window to meet your own.  "I'll be gone soon enough." The comment had been snide, an obvious jab at the dislike to yourself, and your distaste to him. Raising your hand in defensiveness, you'd reiterated your initial ask, specifying the intent behind your words.  "I didn't mean it like that." Levi gave you a once over, gaze finally moving from your tense stature to return to people-watching.  "I know." His voice had been quieter; softer. The bell above the door had chimed, and you'd been left to wonder what he'd been thinking of while he'd stepped forward to serve the next set of people. 

An uninteresting shift had soon concluded, as you'd soon found yourself turning the sign over the door, a final wipe over the tables while Levi swept the floors. The close-up had been completed in silence, until you'd flickered the lights off and stepped through the door to leave, Levi traipsing behind you to place a key into the door, turning it.  "See you tomorrow." You'd uttered the good-bye under your breath, cold air turning to vapor as your warm breath had met the atmosphere. Turning, you'd taken the first step toward your apartment, placing your hands into coat pockets in order to protect them from the weather.  "Wait." Levi spoke, resulting in the halt of your footsteps, turn of your gaze. 

"Are you walking home?" He questioned, to which you'd nodded, expression furrowed. "I'll drive you." His offer had been confusing to you, the pair of you hadn't been anything other than vague colleagues, if you'd even refer to yourselves as that. You'd only met him a handful of times, working a few miserable shifts within his presence; why would he offer you a lift home? 

Your befuddlement had been obvious as he'd spoken once more, exhaling in annoyance.  "It's cold." The two words had somewhat aided in your internal questions, though you'd had some anxiety, you'd nodded. He ushered you in the opposite direction, leaving you to follow behind as he'd made his way toward his car.  "Where do you live?" He questioned as you'd caught up to his wide strides. You'd named the road and notable buildings nearby, allowing him to intake the information and plan the route home within his head. 

When he'd stopped next to a spotless black Mercedes, you hadn't been surprised - a regional manager, clean freak, of course his car would reflect his financial status and personality. You'd slipped into the passenger seat as he'd pushed the key into the ignition, pulling belts over yourselves before he'd put the car into first and pulled away. The silence had been deafening, and you'd been left to wonder if the entire journey would be this uncomfortable to sit through, until he'd finally broken through the stillness to alleviate the uneasy aura. 

"I think Erwin will be away until late December." Levi had spoken, shifting into third as his eyes were fixed on the road.  "Oh." You'd replied, shifting within your seat. "Why'd they send him over there, anyway?" It'd only been the sixth, meaning you'd have to work at least two weeks with Levi before Erwin would return.  "His family is over there. The previous manager left, leaving a vacancy, so Erwin requested a temporary transfer over the holiday period to visit." As he'd explained, his eyes had flickered between the road and the rear-view mirror, before shifting to your tight body-language. "Why do you look so uncomfortable?" Levi's probe had your slouched stance tense further, swallowing before mustering the confidence to voice your thoughts. 

"Why'd you stop me from working on the till?" Voice wavering, you'd asked, thinking back to the shift two days prior in which you'd been shunned away from customers. His grip on the wheel loosened as he turned a corner.  "I was giving you a break from the influx of shitty people." He'd replied, and you'd exhaled with the small amount of reassurance the statement had given you.  "So, it's not cause you think I'm bad with customers?" You pushed, shyness reducing ever-so-slightly with his calmer tone, and relaxed nature. He'd been different to when in the shop.  "Well, hearing you say how can I help every few minutes had been grating." Levi joked, though his voice had remained just as monotone. 

"Fair." The car stopped at a red light, and Levi had reached to take the car out of gear, fingers grazing past your thigh as he'd pulled the hand-break up. The contact had caused your leg to move inward, tightening the muscles as you'd kept them closer together, away from the console. The small action had caused your skin to prickle with heat, though you'd suppressed stray thoughts as you'd reminded yourself of who was sitting beside you. As attractive as Levi had been, it hadn't changed the fact he'd been selfish, judgmental, and over-all, a bit of an asshole. 

"You did shit on Christmas, though." The comment had been playful, testing the waters on how friendly you could be toward him before he'd go back to the managerial stance. He'd taken a moment to respond, and you'd been unsure if he'd remembered the small remark he'd made - calling the holiday season 'shitty', a phrase in which you'd come to learn had been a prominent part of his vocabulary. 

"Christmas is a time for children, it's a financial burden for everyone else." His response had been bitter, yet had caused you to laugh. Of course, he'd been a grinch among everything else - you'd began to wonder if he'd enjoyed anything.  "We're here." He spoke, to which you'd glanced through the window, unbuckling the seat-belt upon recognizing the surroundings.  "Thanks." The small word of appreciation had left your lips as you'd opened the door, stepping out. "See you tomorrow." You'd spoken, earning a nod from Levi before you'd walked toward the entry-way of the apartment building, making your way to your home. 

When stepping through the door, and throwing your belongings on the hooks in the hall, you made your way to the lounge. There had been a few buzzes from within your trouser pocket, an indicator that notifications were coming through - the work's group chat had new messages.

4 eyes: how'd the first shift with grumps go??  mikey: she looked terrified when i left 4 eyes: last shift we had, she had a rude customer and grumps saved her  mole: levi's not that bad           4 eyes changed y/n's nickname to customer punching bag

A small smile had spread across your lips, rolling your eyes at Hange's messages. Thumbs still cold from the winter's breeze, you typed out a response a little slower than normal, waiting for the stiffness of joints to ease up.

customer punching bag: seriously hange?  4 eyes: it's funny customer punching bag: it went fine anyway. he gave me a lift home 4 eyes: levi let you in his car? customer punching bag: nah he carried me mikey: hange, the only reason you're barred from his car is because you're messy customer punchng bag: i do have 1 question, why does he hate christmas sm?  mikey: ask him that 4 eyes: it's his birthday  mikey: stop telling everyone hange, he doesn't like it customer punching bag: he doesn't like his birthday? 

                                                                                      Read 20:34 

With a sigh, you threw your phone down, exchanging the device for the tv remote, flicking on the box before you to lay onto the sofa. Soft speech and laughter filled the room, a repeat of a sit-com had been displayed on the television, though you hadn't paid too much attention. Why would Levi hate his birthday so much? While the background noise lulled you to fall asleep upon your sofa, you were left with more questions, mind fighting to find explanations for the odd behaviours he'd exhibited. 

Tuesday afternoon had come too soon, impending shift finally catching up to the present. Apron on, mentally prepared, you found yourself behind the counter, this time on the front line of customers, Levi sticking to his place pouring coffee. The pair of you had worked well together, a synchronized dance as you flowed around the workspace, going from till to machine, a steady and quiet circulation. When down-time had arrived, your chores finished, you contemplated whether to stay silent, or to fill the stillness with conversation. Your discussion in the car had been somewhat pleasant, and part of you had been drawn to get to know him a little better, though there had been a barrier of the fact you'd been strangers. It wasn't like he would truly open up to you, it would take time. 

Maybe, by Christmas, you'd be able to discover why he'd been so closed off, and why he'd despised this season so strongly. Small steps.  "What're you doing for Christmas?" You'd decided to start small, slowly piecing together any information he'd feed you.  "What's your obsession with Christmas?" He exhaled, taking the same position as yesterday, leaning against the counter with an apathetic expression.  "It's not an obsession, just normal conversation this time of year." Defending yourself against him had seemingly been a reoccurring action, his sharp words slicing through you.  "I don't celebrate it." He was dismissive, refusing to watch your reaction to his statement, instead maintaining eye contact with the road through the window.  

"What're you watching?" Deciding to change the topic had appeared to be the best move, intrusiveness hadn't been something you'd wished to partake in, no matter how curious you'd been. You moved from your spot to stand beside him, mirroring the lax stance against the counter to look through the window with him, empty tables outside of the glass glaring back at you. There had been a florist on the other side of the road, blooms in the windows and greenery sprawled on tables outside, a few parked cars in front of other shop windows. A convenience store, a take-away, a hairdresser that looked to be too expensive to be situated on this street, among the dirtied brick of aged establishments.  

You scanned the street, landing on a father and child walking hand-in-hand, the boy pointing to the window of the convenience store with wide eyes. As you'd squinted, you'd realised the small gloved hand had been directing his father's attention to a chocolate bar, jumping excitedly when the adult had given in, joining his son through the door of the shop to purchase a treat.  "It's calming." You commented, hushed voice as the pair of you watched the duo leaving the store, this time, a purple wrapper in the boys hand, smile wide. 

The following hours went by quickly, before you were back in Levi's car, plugging in the seat-belt before he was driving you home again. This could become a routine you could get used to, a soundless exchange between you during work, comfortable journey home. This had been your third day with him, and yet you'd felt your entire attitude toward him had changed. Although there had been some anxiety still, fighting to figure out the meaning behind some of his words, the time with him had come to be appreciated. Sure, Hange was fun to work with, but there had been something about Levi's presence you'd found endearing. 

Your phone buzzed within your pocket, and then again, pulling it from the confines of the fabric you'd been brought to the screen lighting up, messages from the group chat. It had been Erwin, expressing he wouldn't be back until after Christmas, and the others reassuring him it would be okay, and then changing the subject to the works Christmas-do. 

You smiled, texting a half-hearted reply to confirm you'd be there, before locking the device to slide into your pocket once more.  "Who was it?" Levi questioned, pulling you from your thoughts.  "We have a work group chat, we've arranged to go for drinks at the Christmas market next week." You commented, watching through the window as the lights of cars in front flaring in small droplets of rain over the glass. "You should come, it'll be fun." Inviting him hadn't crossed your mind before, and you'd spoken before thinking through your request, though assuming he'd decline.  "When is it?" He questioned. You'd been unsure if the churning within your stomach had been the result of regret, or anxiousness to have him present while drinking with friends.  "Next Friday, I think we're meeting in the center at eight, Mike and Molbit are on the closing shift." 

Following a few more adequate shifts with Levi, that Friday had come quickly. A day off, spent cleaning your apartment, and then an evening getting ready, catching the bus to the center to meet with the group. Hange's ponytail had been the first thing you'd seen in the crowd, alongside a tired looking Molbit, and Mike. As you moved closer, you'd spotted Levi, in his black trench coat and grey scarf, hands in pockets. His nose had been pink at the tip, pale skin slightly flushed with the cold. 

"Punching bag! Long time no see!" Hange shouted when you'd gotten closer, the groups gaze moving to rest upon you. Everyone had been in thick coats, prepared for the weather of the evening. You smiled, greeting them briefly before turning to Hange.  "Is that my name?" You questioned, smirk playing at your lips. They nodded, laughing.  "Either that, or just bag, which sounds rude." Their response had your eyes rolling, thankful for the reunion after almost a week without their loud presence. There was something about Hange that had been comforting, a friendly aura that had enveloped everyone they'd interacted with.  Mike had already began leading the way to the outdoor bar, a table booked under his name.

The lights looked beautiful this time of year, decorating store-fronts and streets, illuminating the usually tired looking buildings to appear magical. There had been a temporary outdoor bar situated within the middle of the pedestrianised roads, rustic benches and outdoor heaters set up, jolly wintertime music playing quietly over the speakers, almost inaudible when the chatter of customers had been bustling. The five of you sat, Molbit grabbing the first round of mulled wine - a recommendation he'd wanted everyone to try.

"Levi," Mike spoke, sitting himself opposite you. You'd realised Mike and Hange had sat themselves facing you, and you'd been left to share the bench with Levi. "How've you been? We haven't seen you for a while." You turned your head, watching the side of the black haired male as he'd shrugged his shoulders, tugging his coat to cover more of his body. "I've been busy." He'd responded, Mike narrowing his eyes. "Just don't forget to reach out, okay?" He leaned forward across the table, elbows resting on the wood as he'd spoken in a quieter tone, glancing at you through the side of his eye. "I know this time of year is difficult, we're here for you."

Mike's endearing comment hadn't been meant for your ears, though as he'd had to raise his voice to make it over the chatter, he'd ended up spilling the secretive comment to you anyway. Levi leaned backward, nodding, while Molbit had returned to the table, a tray in hand. Each of you grabbed a drink, clinking glasses together while cheering.

The taste hadn't been pleasant, bitter on your tongue, yet you'd pushed it back regardless, relishing in the, albeit small, buzz of alcohol. "Finished already?" Hange teased, gesturing to your cup, the only remnants of drink had been a small clove that had previously floated on top, as well as a christmas tree twig for decoration. "Did you like it?" Molbit asked, to which you'd been left to sheepishly shake you head, a small smile playing on your lips as your actions had contrasted your true thoughts of the beverage. "I didn't, sorry." Your comment caused Hange to fall into a fit of laughter, slamming fist onto the wood. The four of you peered to them, confused, yet not surprised.

You'd decided to instead pick your favourite drink from the short line-up the bar had offered, and within two hours, all of you had found yourselves merry. Though, Levi had remained the same, even if the pinkish tint over his cheeks had grown deeper, he'd handled the alcohol well. There had been a few short lived games played within the group of you, though none of them had occupied you for more than a ten minutes at a time. "Do you wanna come back to mine?" A sudden inquiry from yourself, turning to Levi as the three others had bickered on the opposite side of the table, resting your head atop your hand, watching as his adam's apple had bobbed in his throat, grey eyes laying upon yours. He'd looked skeptical, internally fighting with the urge to say yes, searching for an excuse as he'd wanted to close himself off, to stop you from getting to know him - yet, he'd followed his heart, nodding.

Mike had raised a brow when you'd announced your departure, though no one had questioned further before the pair of you had walked away, making your way toward your apartment building.

"It's not far," You'd began, though guessing Levi had already been able to assume the journey's length as he'd been dropping you home every day this week, even if coming from another direction. The bus had only taken a few minutes, while the walk would most likely span twenty, though with Levi beside you, at least you'd be entertained. "So," Beginning to fill the air, long strides forward, you'd finally allowed yourself to ask the burning question. "What made you hate Christmas so much?" Although aware you'd only really known him the better part of two weeks, you'd still asked. With time progressing, you'd felt a small pull toward him, and with the liquid courage, your inquisitiveness had gotten the better of you.

As moments passed, you'd come to the realization that perhaps it would've been better to leave the slightly impertinent inquiry to yourself, opening your mouth to apoligise, though before you'd had the chance, Levi had began his answer. "Five years ago, I lost two close friends. Drunk driver on Christmas eve, speeding to get home. Isabel was killed on impact, Furlan a day later in ICU." His tone was solemn, voice low as his eyes dropped to trail along the pavement, watching as each foot had stepped forward. "I'm so sorry-" Embarrassed, you'd attempted an apology for the unwelcome question, though Levi had brushed you off. "It's fine." You'd watched as his reclusiveness took over again, frowning. He'd only just appeared to slacken up, and now, he was back to his aloof self. It had pained you to know he'd gone through such a traumatic experience, one he'd clearly lived through each December without them. "Do you have family?" Another question Levi struggled to answer, twiddling his fingers on the insides of his coat pockets as he'd explained the dynamics of the fucked-up family he'd had. "I have an uncle, but he's not really- I don't know. I guess I don't." He'd struggled to describe his life, as it had differed so greatly from what most people had expected. No family, a small friend group, a life of seclusion.

You'd reached the door, swiping the fob over the sensor to allow entry, walking up a set of stairs before being met with the entry to your own apartment, key turning in metal lock to allow the pair of you through. Kicking shoes off at the door, you exhaled, allowing Levi to follow you through to the kitchen, watching as you'd poured each of you a glass of wine - this time, it hadn't been mulled. During quiet moments with him, you'd forgotten he was your manager - down times in the coffee shop being your favourite time of day, when stillness had overcome you and you could simply bask in the muted aura, observing cars pass, or people watching. There had been an odd connection between you, a mutual, silent admiration.

You gestured to the glass on the table, pulling a chair to situate yourself on while he'd mirrored your actions, sitting opposite you, old oak between you.

"I don't see my family, really." You'd commented, bringing drink to lips as you'd zoned your gaze to an aged painting on the wall, one of the first artworks to decorate the walls of the apartment when you had first moved in. "It's not that I don't want to - I kinda just forget to." The admission had been something you'd kept to yourself, through adult life, working, the minimal time you'd actually had to yourself, it had been difficult to spare moments to share with others. "I kind of -" You stopped yourself, sighing. Closing your eyes, you'd hoped he would ignore the beginning of another admission, reminding yourself Levi had been your manager, that within a few weeks, you'd likely never see him again. "What?" He asked, quietly prompting you to proceed. "It's just," Swallowing your pride, you continued. "I don't think I want you to go. I like working with you."

For the first time in the week you'd known him, you'd watched as a smile had etched across his lips. An exhale in amusement had been pushed from his nose, before he'd brought the wine glass to his mouth, taking a sip. Heat had risen through your body at the intimate action, something you'd known he hadn't shown to many others, yet had displayed to you. Something had come over you, an urge you'd had over the past few days - one that you'd found yourself striding toward as you'd stood from your chair, the legs scraping across the kitchen tile as you'd walked to the other side of the table, grasping Levi's cheek within your palm as you'd leaned forward, placing warm lips to his.

He'd been startled, a series of abrupt movements leading you to invade his personal space, and yet, he hadn't pushed you away. Instead, he'd closed his eyes and kissed you back, the taste of red wine between you as you'd pressed yourself harshly against him, trembling hand moving from his cheek to rest on the back of his neck. Somehow, even after being invited to your home, Levi hadn't expected anything to actually happen between you - there hadn't been a scenario within his head where you'd also felt the pull he'd felt toward you, a crush he'd realised had formed that Tuesday, when you'd stood beside him in the soft glow of winter sun cascading through the window of the shop, watching the world go by beside him.

You'd added tongue within the kiss, an advancement Levi had appeared to miss while phasing into the memories of the past fortnight working beside you, accepting the fact he'd appreciated the moments shared within the shop, even if you'd made his heart race, or stomach flutter. Pulling back, you looked to him through half lidded eyes, though the smile on your face had soon dissipated when you'd been met with his disorientated expression, brow furrowed. "I-I have to go." Levi's voice bubbled over the words, a gentle break on the final word as he stood, moving past you to b-line to the door.

You'd been stood, bewildered, too muddled to make sense of what had just occurred. Levi had kissed back, he'd smiled at you, and yet, when you'd thought you'd had him, he'd upped and left? The situation had left you dazed, standing within the middle of your kitchen, eyes falling to the two half drank glasses of wine on the table. 

Amid the emotions you felt crashing over your confused state, you pushed through, forcing your legs to move, running through your apartment and down the stairs until you'd finally caught up to his stiff stance, fingers enveloping the building's door. The halls had been cold, lack of insulation from the outside, with great contrast to the warmth of the apartments situated in the same walls. Levi's breaths had been visible, a vapor leaving his mouth at a faster-than-usual pace, as he'd fought the surge of sentiment washing over him. Had he become weak? 

"Levi." You'd spoken his name, to which his gaze didn't falter, though his body had remained still with your presence. He could only listen, heart pounding as you'd placed a clammy had over his shoulder, a squeeze of reassurance. "Please, stay." The plead had been only decibels above whispering, fear of his response intertwined within the request.  "I can't do this." He spoke, knuckled whitening as he'd grasped the silver handle harder, an attempt to push his thoughts away, preventing the hollowness he'd felt from surfacing. 

"Can't do what, Levi? Accept that you like me? Accept we all care about you?" Although you'd spoken a harsh truth, your tone had been soft. "Stop running, please." 

When he'd finally faced you, there'd been tears in his eyes. He looked at you through pain, internal struggle visible through his furrowing expression. But, he didn't flee, instead, Levi leaned toward you, hand quickly removing itself from the tight hold on the handle to your cheek, lips pressing to yours. Through the kiss, you'd tasted the subtle taste of tears, a mix of both yours and his as you'd worked against him, his rigid form easing up as you'd held him close. 

Hand in hand, you climbed the stairs back to the apartment, a sereneness washed over you as he'd held you. The contact of skin with each skin had been a reassurance that Levi had felt the same need, and hadn't planned on leaving again. 

The bell chimed, yourself and Levi walking through the coffee shop's entrance, yet this time, neither of you'd had work. His arm had grazed yours as he'd held the door open for you, a warmth over your skin as you'd remembered his lips on yours the night before, smile spreading amply across your cheeks. Following his strides, you stood with him as he'd ordered from the counter you'd usually resided behind, and as he led you from the shop to the cemetery near-by. 

He stopped beside two graves, to which you'd glanced over. Etched into the stone had been the names Isabel and Furlan, two names Levi couldn't let himself forget.  "This time of year was her favourite." Levi began, glancing to the drinks each of you'd held, warmth radiating beyond the red corrugated cardboard to caress your palm. "All three of us worked in the cafe - back before Erwin had been promoted, I was the manager." His countenance softened when he reminisced on the past, gaze moving to look at the sky above. The weather had been typical of this time of year, grey clouds painted delicately above, minimal amount of light able to shine through. 

"Isabel had an obsession with peppermint hot chocolate, so when the seasonal menu would come out, she'd drink us out of stock." A smile played on his lips, exhale of amusement. "I thought we could drink it, to remember." 

Through silent tears, you looked to the cup held within your hand. Until now, Levi hadn't mentioned the contents, and you hadn't asked. Bringing the plastic lid to lips, you sipped, chocolate taste coating your tongue among hints of mint, a good balance of flavor. One of the most festive drinks there'd been; a good choice of beverage. Time felt still as Levi brought his arm around you, your head falling to lean atop his shoulder. You finished the drinks while watching the stones before you, appreciating the company shared. 

For the first time in years, Levi had felt relief; he wouldn't isolate himself any longer. Sharing their legacy alone had burdened him, a pain he'd been scolded with for five long years. With your presence beside him, he'd understood this is was an ache he hadn't had to suffer through alone. 

"Thank you for sharing this with me." You spoke as he'd lead you away, toward his car. He glanced to you, then to the winter sun. Such a cold day, and yet he'd felt warmth.  "I love you." The words fell from his lips for the first time as you'd stood by the Mercedes, hand-in-hand, a sigh leaving your smiling lips. You kissed him gently, savoring the taste of peppermint before pulling back to utter four words in return. "I love you too." 

But he knew he truly messed up when he found himself clinging to Jean for dear life. His vision swam while labored breaths rattled his aching ribs, nausea seeping through the pits of his stomach. He'd barely managed to drag himself to the mess hall before the world around him spun, his fluttering fingers trying to grasp onto anything that would keep him from doubling over. Of course, his nosey cadets were by his side the second they'd notice how their Captain looked ghastly pale; his sickly complexion was enough to sound the alarms within their heads. 

How he ended up clutching Jean's arm as the boy frantically tried to ease him onto a chair, he didn't know. He might've blacked out for a second. A grunt escaped his throat, pushing past gritted teeth, muscles protesting as he settled down on the seat Connie had dragged over. 

"Captain! Are you alright?" Eren shoved Jean out of the way and faced the Captain with a look of concern. His brows pulled together and it was then Levi was reminded of how young his cadets were. Damn, they're just kids. 

Levi only spared the boy a heavy-lidded glance accompanied with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine. I was only a little dizzy," He sighed, "I apologize for scaring you like that."

"No offense Captain, but you've definitely seen better days." Connie pipped up, earning a smack in the head from Sasha.

Mikasa met the Captain's gaze, a look of disapproval leveling him. "You skipped the check-up again, didn't you?"

"My doings and whereabouts are none of your concern," Levi answered, his words clipped by the company of sharp breaths. The younger Ackerman clicked her tongue, earning a glare from the Captain.

Armin frowned. "Sir, that would be the third time you skip the check-up." The boy pulled at the sleeves of his jacket nervously, hoping he hadn't spoken out of terms. 

At that, Jean nodded. "And I can't imagine Squad Leader (Y/n) will be happy to find out you've been neglecting your health again." 

Damned brats were right, Levi knew they were. He knew you'd be dragging his ass to medical by the ear if you saw his current state. Pale, sweaty, bruised, and dizzy. But Humanity's Strongest didn't have the luxury of settling for a moment's worth of rest. No, there was no rest for the man who'd been tasked with the impossible— to be the strength of all of humanity. Broken or bruised, he had to keep himself upright for the sake of others. Because what was he if not more soldier than man? Who would he be if he weren't humanity's top weapon against the enemy?  

"I can assure you," Levi breathed, his voice crackling painfully as it spilled past his lips. He winced slightly. "I do not require her medical services. I'm fine." 

"Like hell you are," The sound of your voice had the Captain sitting up quickly, cursing colorfully at the stabbing pain that shot through his chest. Anyone else would've missed the subtle look of guilt and embarrassment that flashed behind his silver eyes, but not you. You, who could read even the most minuscule shifts in his expressions. You, who could differentiate the pained pinch of his brows from his usually stern stare. You, who seemed less than pleased with the signs of his condition. "You're so stubborn." You sighed.

It was only then that Levi noticed Sasha lingering behind you. She must've ratted him out. All he could do was accept defeat and slump back in his chair.

A few beats in silence passed, the air thick and tense. The cadets waited anxiously for their next orders, willing to help care for their Captain. It's the least they could do for the man that protects them at all costs. Their eyes flickered from the Captain to you, and back to their leader, their shoulders held back in attention.

"Go back to your table, kids," The reassurance in your voice had them relaxing ever so slightly. Your eyes remained on Levi as you spoke, "I can handle it from here." Sparing the cadets a final glance accompanied by a short nod, they were quick to scramble away, allowing you a moment with your lover. 

"I'm not going to medical," He rasped, instinctively leaning into your touch the moment your cool knuckles caressed the sharp lines of his cheekbones. "I can't stand that place." The hot stench of death, blood, and bleach were always quick to make him queasy. 

The sharp disapproval in your gaze softened in understanding as you gave a gentle nod. "I know," you sighed. "But I still need to make sure you're okay, love."

"Could I possibly pull the rank card here and say you can't make me go there?" A futile attempt at escaping the dreadful confines of the medical wing, he knew, but he couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart when a huff of laughter bubbled past your lips.

"You could," you started, a knowing smile pulling at your lips. "But it won't work."

Levi frowned, tilting his head curiously. "And why's that?" He truly wanted to know.

"Because, Captain," you teased. Oh, he knew you were enjoying the savory taste of your next words. "When it comes to the health of the Scouts, I outrank even the Commander himself." 

“Damn,” Silver eyes searched your gaze. There was no doubt in his mind that you were completely capable of tossing him over your shoulder and carrying him to medical if necessary; he’d rather avoid such commotion. He was never a fan of the monotonous medical rooms, cold with grief and mourning, so he was really hoping he could avoid them.

As if understanding his train of thought, you brushed a strand of hair away from the slick sheen of sweat on his forehead, bringing his attention back to you. A tender stroke of your fingers down the contour of his jaw had his pained expression loosening subtly. You needed to get him out of the mess hall; there was no need for his condition to be exposed in front of all the Scouts. “Can you walk?” When conflict glimmered within his silver gaze, you nodded. “Alright, that’s okay. Come on, love” Carefully wrapping his arm over your shoulder while pulling his waist close to you, you slowly maneuvered him out of the wooden chair, whispering apologies as his troubled breathing hitched through hisses of pain. With his body so close to your own, you could feel the cold sweats that soaked his skin, the way he leaned most of his weight against you, the soft loll of his head as he fought through the fog in his brain. Your heart clenched with every muffled groan he kept within tight lips. 

Before he knew it, he was being eased down onto your shared bed, carefully propped up by the pillows behind his back. Through dark lashes, he watched as you pulled out the medic pack you always had in the room, setting it by the bedside table before sorting through its contents. Even through his foggy mind, he could make out the pull of your brows accompanied by the gentle downward curl of your lips. It made his heart twinge with guilt. “I thought we were—”

“Going to the infirmary?” You finished for him, turning to fill out of bowl with cool water and pluck a rag from your drawer. Dampening the cloth and wringing out the excess water, you carefully began wiping away at his flushed skin. Levi sank into the pillows behind him in relief, the cool temperature of the rag working wonders against the nausea that spilled over him. “No,” You shook your head. “I’m sure I can care for you just as well here than I can over there. You aren’t the only one who’s tired of that place.”

Levi could only nod, wincing as he fixed himself into a more comfortable position, grateful for the help of your gentle hand guiding him with nurturing touches. “Careful,” you breathed, your jaw ticking. “You shouldn’t have been moving so much without knowing how bad you were hurt.” When your eyes flickered down to his chest, Levi nodded, granting you permission to pull up the fabric of his shirt. Darkening bruises tainted the skin above his ribs, but you didn’t wince at the sight; you merely set your jaw as you inspected the wounds, gracing his tender skin, frowning when Levi’s breath hitched and he instinctively shifted away with a pained look on his face. 

The low droop of your shoulders were a tale-tell sign of your exhaustion, but before he could comment on it, you were carefully rubbing cream onto his bruised skin, the circular motions of your fingers soothing some of the aches rattling his bones. “This should numb the area for a bit,” You allowed for your touch to linger, feeling the jagged rising and falling of your lover’s chest. “Thankfully you don’t seem to have any broken ribs— they’re just bruised.” 

Levi hummed his head falling back, squeezing his eyes closed. Maybe that would help shut the pain out. “Still hurts like hell,” he grumbled. 

Falling back into the task of wiping at his clammy, flushed skin, you spared a lingering glance now that his eyes were shut. The sight before you was enough to drop your heart into a pit of uneasiness. Silver and reddenned scars littered his skin, accompanied by the angry bruises that claimed the curves and planes of his figure; his labored breathing and pinched brows enough to make your jaw tick as you held back your sorrow.

The wounded Captain had barely registered your ghostly touch as you worked to bandage and prop up his injured leg, but he surely felt the silence that swallowed the room like a weight on his aching chest. Cracking his eyes open tiredly, he was met with the sight of your contemplative expression, and though he knew he shouldn’t stare, he couldn’t look away. How could he? How could he possibly break away from the pintoresc view before him? As the sun kissed the horizon, light pooled into the room through the window next to the bed, plunging his surroundings into a golden glow. But you were truly a sight to behold. Warm hues danced over the contours of your face, the gentle streaks of light outlining your figure in the most delicate of manners. He nearly scoffed at himself.

It was only logical that the light from the heavens would recognize you and claim you as one of its angels. It’s the only explanation he could come up with for the way your mere touch could heal an army. 

“You do know you don’t have to be Humanity’s Strongest with me, right?” The melodic sound of your voice pulled him in and he found his fingers fluttering by his side, aching for your acceptance. He sighed in relief once your fingers were locked around his own, and he allowed himself a moment to admire how perfectly your hand molded against the calloused skin of his hold. “Even the strong need to settle for a moment or two every once in a while.”

Levi opened his mouth, but no words came. What was he to say? How could he possibly reply when the butterflies in his stomach have awakened from their slumber, tickling his heart with the fluttering of their wings? How was it possible that a man as strong as an army now found himself defenseless in the face of hushed words full of care and concern? 

He truly hoped the heat rising to his cheeks could be blamed on his weakened health and not on the foreign emotions he’d been ambushed by. 

A reassuring smile pulled at the curves of your lips and Levi nearly slapped himself for wanting to memorize once more the shape of your kiss. Airy pressings of your lips graced the scarred skin of his knuckles, the gentle touch of your love disarming him once and for all. “You are one hell of a stubborn man, my love,” you breathed, a soft breath of laughter fanning against his hand. “And I know your reputation doesn’t give way for moments where you can shake the weight of the world off your shoulders.” His breath hitched, his hand tightening over your own as he found himself pinned by the glimmer in your eyes. “But Humanity’s Strongest is nothing without Levi Ackerman. So please, let me take care of you. Let me protect and care for the man behind the soldier.” The plea in your voice was enough to make his lips quiver; his eyes flickering away in hopes of concealing the tears that threatened to gloss over his silver gaze. 

Never in a million years did he think it would be the sound of your voice that would break him, but, oh, this was much sweeter than anything he ever imagined. Incredible how a few sacred words had broken straight through the walls of a man made of war. Levi was too scared to speak, too afraid of what his voice would sound like if he were to utter a single word under the influence of such foreign emotions. He’d barely recognized his voice when he uttered a trembling “Thank you.” With all his might he tried to keep himself together, and he’d blame his weakened body for it all, but he couldn’t choke back the quiet cry that spilled from his lips. Even though it hurt his sore muscles and irritated his wounds, he was unable to stop the way his body trembled as he cried quietly. 

“Oh Levi,” you cooed, sliding into bed with him. Mindful of his injuries, you rested your head against his shoulder, pulling his trembling body into the warmth of your embrace. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” 

Levi shook his head, letting his chin rest on the top of your head as tears trailed down his cheeks. “Please don’t apologize,” he hiccuped between sniffles. To hell with his injuries, he thought as he pulled you closer to him. He’d be damned if he even toyed with the idea of letting you go. He didn’t want you to go. 

“I promise I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe,” you echoed the words he’d whispered to you years before, a sacred promise he had meant to be heard by your ears only now reciprocated within the safety of your embrace. “I promise I’ll take care of you, fiercely and with every ounce of love I have for you, Levi Ackerman.”

The tears had tired him out by the time his breathing had settled into a rhythm similar to the rise and fall of your chest. Levi could barely keep his eyes from fluttering closed, but his hold around you never faltered. He looked down, snickering softly to see that you were already gazing up at him, your eyes twinkling with adoration. 

“How do you feel?” you whispered. 

Levi hummed. “Physically? Like a pile of shit, still.” He rolled his eyes at the giggle you’d failed to contain. “Emotionally, though, much better than I’ve been in a long time.” 

You propped yourself up, just enough to feather his heavy eyes with a kiss. Pulling back, you smiled at the dazed look that softened his gaze. “I’ll start on some tea for you to wash down the medicine with, okay?” Levi instinctively tightened his arm around you. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“That stuff tastes like shit,” Levi grumbled, quietly hoping you’ll spare him from the horrid taste that comes with the medication. “I don’t want it.” 

“But it’ll help with the pain, love.” You were already pulling away before he could argue.

“I don’t want it.” He tried again, but he knew it was futile now that your mind was set on the task.

Lingering by the side of the bed, you tickled his cheek with a gentle brushing of your fingers over his skin. A cheeky smile curled your lips, and Levi knew he was fighting a losing battle. “Sorry, but as Captain or as my partner, it’s still my job to nurture you back to health, my love.” Your smile widened as he shot you a halfhearted glare. “Seems to me that I outrank you in either case, so my word is law, no?” 

“Whatever,” Levi muttered, tickling your side and pulling back with a smile before you could smack his hand away. “Just hurry back, alright?”

Silver eyes followed your retreating figure, his heart pounding in anticipation for your return. Looking down at his hands, he smiled at the lingering warmth of your touch that still made his skin tingle pleasantly. Maybe forgetting about the steeled burdens of Humanity’s Strongest and giving Levi Ackerman the opportunity to resurface wouldn’t be such a horrendous thing to allow every once in a while. 

It’s not like either could challenge your care and authority.

•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist:

CHAPTER 13 - FLASHBACK: THREE

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. they are my interpretations of the material. please watch those episode first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

“All those years of street fighting and that’s the best you got?”

“Oh shut up, Ackerman.”

You’re getting pretty sick of tasting an invasion of dirt in your mouth every time Levi Ackerman harshly slams you into the ground, demanding surrender. Forget seeing stars — you’re mapping constellations every time you go toe-to-toe in his sparring sessions.

Whether it’s from a sweep of your legs, an arm popping behind your back, a head-butt out of a grapple, this hurts.

Yet you still show up during downtime anyway.

Maybe the years of running recklessly with Furlan’s crew has helped you lose a couple of brain cells along the way.

.

.

.

.

Fifteen comes and goes in a flash.

That first night, the choice to escape the clutches of your adoptive keeper, was met with little to no thought.

Levi held out his hand to you, and you chose to never look back.

When you arrived at Levi's apartment, you're surprised to find an unassuming apartment with a set of stairs leading to the second floor where he lives with Furlan Church. You carried burdensome baggage through the building’s threshold, as the only things you had to your name were the clothes on your back and the bruising on your skin.

Eventually the bruises lightened, and Levi keeps his promise:

No one comes after you.

No one dares — not when you were under his wing.

Much to your surprise, Furlan Church was excited for your arrival. Thrilled, even, that Levi could get you to agree to joining their budding heist team.

When you first stepped into the apartment, you were greeted with the presence of a lanky boy sporting a lopsided smile and soft, spiky ash-blonde still wet from an evening shower. He wore similar clothes to Levi: a button-down hung wide open to display his chest and slacks a little too big for his frame.

Furlan was so much different than what the streets claimed he was: most suggested he was cunning and angry, a force to be reckoned with, but what stood in front of you that night was simply a teenager just like you looking to change the hand that starves him.

While bringing someone else into the mix meant the apartment lost a little space, it was more comfortable than anything you had ever experienced in your life.

They gave you your own room. A bed to sleep on. A small dresser for the possessions you don’t own. Towels. Food in your belly.

Given his smaller frame, you were forced to rely on Levi’s old clothes until you were able to find — more like steal — threads of your own. The only gotcha was the promise to keep them clean, neat, pressed and folded.

He wouldn’t let you abuse what little he owned, and you learned quickly just how much of a clean freak this mirage of a boy really was.

Spotless. Pristine. Scrubbing here, sweeping there—

Every day and every night.

And you were expected to contribute, so you did.

For weeks the three of you coexisted under the same roof.

Furlan was funny. Levi won every card game.

It felt like your own version of family.

(Something that wasn’t twisted, gnarled, from darkness.)

After some time had passed, the boys would finally let you in on their most precious secret:

The reason Levi Ackerman and Furlan Church were so successful in comparison to the other gangs floating around this godforsaken city.

“So it’s true.”

You sit on the dilapidated couch while you watch Levi clean the nooks and crannies of the boxy silver gear lying on the table.

Furlan beams on the opposite end of the table, arm lazily draped against its surface.

“Ch’yeah. Kind of amazing, isn’t it?”

Omni-directional Mobile Gear.

The shit you can only get from the military.

Your brows knit with curiosity. “How’d you manage that?”

“Ha — it wasn’t easy,” Furlan tells you, re-crossing his legs. “Took weeks to plan.”

“And you know how to use it?” you ask, but it’s not to him.

Levi never pauses his motions, but his eyes flicker up when he detects your vocal direction. “Well enough,” the dark-haired boy provides. “If the pigs can learn how to use it on the surface, then it wouldn’t be so hard to teach ourselves.”

“Damn…”

Leaning over, your forearms press hard into the tops of your thighs.

“When people said they thought they saw some of our own zipping around the Underground, I thought they were maybe drinking from sewage.”

“Sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner,” Furlan laments, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s nothing against you—”

“But it’s a big secret,” you finish for him, nodding in understanding. “I get it. It was smart.”

“And now we’ll teach you.”

Furlan glances to his left when Levi speaks with certainty.

Levi takes a minute longer to linger his eyes on you before going back to the gear. He continues to address you.

“We needed a fighter who knows how to stay on their feet.”

“Ah, so that’s why you got the shit beat out of me — to see if I can handle ODM gear?” you ask sarcastically, directing your gaze to Furlan. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“What? It was only fair, code is code. I couldn’t give you special treatment!” Furlan yelps. “C’mon, just because Levi endorsed you—”

“Oi,” Levi interrupts, narrowing his eyes to the other boy.

You slowly grin. “Endorsed? This is news to me.”

“Drop it,” Levi warns.

“Dropped,” Furlan promises.

You want to keep pushing, but instead you stand to your feet and walk to the table where the stolen ODM gear lay.

You run a finger over a metallic edge, noting just how hefty the equipment must actually be.

“What’s so tough about this shit, anyway?”

“Well, it’s…” Furlan starts to speak up, but he grimaces with an unspoken apology. The two exchange looks, both in the know — and you’ll soon be, too. “A little jerky.”

“In what way?”

“As in you have to use your core and keep your balance. It’s harder than it looks.”

Furlan’s not fucking kidding.

Your first attempt at harnessing into ODM gear is rough. Wall into wall into wall — the recovering shiner on your forehead now sports fresh purples and blues in the second try; the third, the fourth.

Levi uses the equipment seamlessly, flying around the cavernous walls of this hellscape like it’s a natural gift.

Furlan’s just about as good, consistently leaving you in the dust.

Day in and day out you follow their instructions and practice until every muscle is sore in your body; until the feel of the equipment on your hips, in your hands is an extension of yourself; until things just click.

Zipping from buildings, increasing velocity, landing on your two feet.

It brings you that much closer to a power so few Underground City citizens possess.

Little by little, you learn about the mirage of a boy with your life in his hands. Levi Ackerman is a fully actualized person, with quirks and aspirations and feelings — though you’d be hard pressed to know them yourself, as he keeps everything close to the vest.

He is stoic, calm in even the worst situations, and particular. He fights with clean brutality. You eventually find out that the man who trained Levi wasn’t his father, but Kenny the Ripper — a boogeyman you and your siblings had heard about in passing without fully realizing you’d ever crossed paths.

None of the scary stories about Kenny the Ripper involved a ward in his possession, so Levi is just as much of a ghost as you are.

Although the story of his upbringing passes through blurred lines and inferred details, you come to learn that most — if not all — of Levi’s swift tricks are passed down through meticulous training and trials by Kenny himself.

(No wonder he’s so ruthless.)

After a few weeks, Levi’s willing to show you some of his best hand-to-hand tricks himself.

Although you two possess completely different fighting styles — one erratic, the other calculated — it culminates and meshes somewhere in the middle, where ferocity and strategy marry.

Fighting becomes fun, whether either of you admit it or not.

A stress release after a long day.

A constant in an eternal night.

You never ask how Kenny taking him under his wing came to pass, but he never asks about your history with Mother, either.

It’s better that way. Not talking about it dissolves the impact Mother had on your life.

It lessens both of your former guardians authority.

(As for Mother, she never tries to find you. Even when you walk the old paths where street fights continue, you never see her face in passing. Rumors spread that her drinking problem got the best of her. You imagine Levi has something to do with her expiration, whether he'll ever admit it or not.)

Petty theft, money heists, intimidation — you rack up the offenses against your name and double the notoriety of your trio.

The citizens of the Underground look twice when you walk by. They never once try to touch or attack you again.

Church, Ackerman, James.

Always together. Always in sync.

It’s paradise.

.

.

.

.

  Sixteen is a slow burn.

Complicated heists mean complicated teams, and Furlan puts himself in charge of divvying up the goods while Levi investigates potential candidates. A team of two turns into three, three turns into four, and soon enough there is a network of reliable bodies willing to lay their lives on the line for a chance to work with the three of you.

Sometimes the job requires Levi to leave for days, but he makes it a point to come back to this cramped apartment with bags full of food and goodies for your hard-working gang.

(You’ve noticed he is particular about smuggling tea back home, particularly the leaves only available to purchase on the surface. It’s ballsy, but he gets it done.)

In a strange way, you miss when he’s away.

And when he's away, it's usually just you and Furlan — until it isn't.

Because Isabel Magnolia, a short and spunky ginger-haired menace, becomes an unexpected fourth addition in the leadership squad.

In a testosterone-fueled household, the younger woman is a breath of fresh air for you. Idealistic, brave, and bold above all else — Levi and Furlan stumbled into her while she was in the midst of an escape from Military Police.

Something about making unauthorized trips to the city stairwell, illegally ignoring the tolls to do some of the most ludicrous shit that only a teenager would do.

Like save baby birds from the surface, as if they’d somehow survive down in the Underground.

(That bird did. Furlan swears it’s the magic of Isabel’s optimism.)

Isabel ends up sleeping in your room in a makeshift cot on the floor, squawking your ear off in excitement to the point of a headache.

Still, it’s nice to have company, especially when the boys are recruiting or completing deals.

The four of you as a unit feels right. By now you’ve come to appreciate Furlan’s jokes, admire Levi’s seriousness, partake in Isabel’s dreams; they’ve each played a part in cracking your own hardened shell, shaping you into this —

Not the James your Mother created, but the James your friends accepted.

You’ve even told them your first name, the real name you were born with. They keep that name like a sacred oath, something special those three (and only those three) can say. It becomes something of a last name for you, something to be respected. The rest of the gang know you solely as James, yet you've grown to no longer loathe being called such.

(Not when it’s on their lips.)

And you like her — this person named James.

You like that she’s capable of being reliable to a team of people with their own strengths.

You like that Isabel gives her hope in the middle of her babbles at the stroke of midnight.

You like that Furlan discovers what her real laugh sounds like — straight from her belly and up to her chest — and it’s loud and obnoxious and genuine.

The sound even gets Levi to crack, if only for a twitch at the corner of his lips.

Shit.

Levi.

You like that he’s particular with his teas and trusts you enough to share the reasons why.

You like that he puts his hands on your hips when you’re practicing ODM gear.

You like that he isn’t afraid to touch your sweat-matted hair after a spar to tuck it behind your ear, like you’re nothing dirty to him.

And you realize the James you’re becoming will do just about anything Levi Ackerman asks.

.

.

.

.

  Seventeen is complicated.

Messy is a better word — Yinter’s massive fuck-up on the South Region heist puts a halt on any and all jobs for the rest of the year.

One of the newest recruits, Yinter, panicked in the midst of his attempt at robbery, causing the rest of his squad to almost get caught by meandering Military Police.

Cleaning up the tracks of an inexperienced team took several weeks of tireless labor and moving supplies around, but the gang managed.

What once ran as a worried whisper in the Underground is now loud and on the tips of the MPs tongues, placing a target on the backs of four cocky teenagers leading the charge.

All of you should have known navigating the crime world by the skin of your teeth was risky.

At the beginning, the idea of a lawless gang was beautiful.

However, Furlan’s a little more of a dreamer in the sense that he sees the unattainable and runs with it. Sometimes his head is so far up his ass that he thinks none of this will blow back onto any of you.

Maybe it can damage some of the runts, sure, but he thinks leadership’s plans and aspirations are fool proof.

You disagree. Loudly.

Now you’re certain Furlan’s sometimes pissed that Levi ever suggested they recruit you with your constant pushback of his ideas. Levi never seems to express any doubt towards you, but that doesn’t stop him from being the Devil’s Advocate thorn in your side.

Sometimes you and Levi Ackerman bicker.

Sometimes it's a lot of bickering — about the little things like team preferences and heist plans, times and locations.

Yet more often than not, the two of you always land in the same archaic loop: fist-to-fist sparring, taking out your frustrations in the most natural way you know how. Ducking and dodging until your tempers simmer and you run out steam.

Until frustration turns into playful, heated banter.

A secret language for two.

(You'll never stop fighting, you realize too little too late, but neither will he.)

You kick and you punch and you watch Levi slam you into the ground again and again and again — the scrawny teenager always ends up on top of you, wrists pinned to your head, declaring your surrender.

Glare to glare, out of breath and spent, the fight ends when you burst into laughter from how scrunched his nose gets when he’s hell bent on winning.

It used to be funny.

Yet with each passing week, each dying month, warmth surges through your belly when he pins you down.

It would be easy, you think, to do something stupid.

You can’t afford to be the stupid one of the group.

.

.

.

.

  Last week marked your eighteenth birthday.

A party is reckless, but Furlan wants to celebrate something after the Yinter accident with the spoils of the last successful heist: booze, food, rationed cigarettes, the works.

You aren’t naïve to what partying means, even if you’ve never partaken in the act yourself. The Underground is full of red-light districts if you know where to look: people piss away their money to eliminate their troubles in the arms of others, in the bottle of a stolen vintage whiskey, in the spices that can ascend far past the surface into somewhere better.

Levi is sorely against the idea.

Furlan, for once, pulls seniority.

Which leads to why Levi’s so damn determined to kick your ass right now — if he can’t vocalize how annoyed he is, then he sure as hell will exert enough energy to pass out before the event even starts.

“All those years of street fighting and that’s the best you got?”

“Oh shut up, Ackerman.”

A nonchalant boot digs into your side, bringing you back to the Underground.

“Get up.”

You grit your teeth, counting down the seconds. “Actually, I kinda dig it down here.”

“Seriously—?”

It’s enough of a distraction to earn yourself much-needed time to reset and win.

Pulling as hard as you possibly can, you use your core and sweep his leg. Levi makes a noise of surprise as he’s airborne, only to crash beside you in a nasty thud.

You crawl up the young man's body to press your arm into his windpipe, daring him to fight back. Your knees cradle his hips, trapping him beneath.

“Dirty trick,” he spits, gritting his teeth, but it doesn’t feel as if he’s trying to escape very fast.

(A phrase he's picked up from you like a bad habit.)

You shrug a shoulder, pressing harder onto his windpipe. He sputters, but his face remains just as neutral as ever.

“What’s got you so pissy today?”

“What?” Levi asks from beneath you. His hands curl around your elbow and fist, but he doesn’t push your forearm away just yet.

“You’re particularly moody.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

He narrows his eyes. “And I’m letting you win.”

“Are not.”

“Wanna bet?”

Easing up on his windpipe, you crawl off of him and extend a hand to help pull him up to a seated position.

Levi begrudgingly takes it, hoisting himself up on the flat of his palm. "Thought we didn’t do draws."

“I don’t wanna look like shit before the party, so I’m calling a draw.”

“So you’re admitting I was winning?”

You roll your eyes into the back of your head, swatting his hand from yours. Levi uses the momentum to prop himself up with his palms behind him, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. You stay with your legs folded like a pretzel, hands idle in your lap.

“I’ve never drank before,” you murmur with an excited melody to your tone.

Levi grimaces. “It’s disgusting.”

“I won’t know until I try, right?”

“Can’t you take my word for it?”

“But your taste is so awful.”

It’s a lie, but the immediate scowl sent your way is worth the dramatics. You smile it off.

“I mean, Furlan seems to think it’s fun.”

“Furlan is a dumbass,” Levi replies. “I thought you already knew that.”

“I do, but I still want to at least try it. If I hate it, then you can tell me I told you so. Deal?”

“And if you love it, then that means I’m on babysitting duty.”

"Babysitting?”

“Yeah. I don’t need your drunk ass fighting new recruits.” His scowl deepens. “Or ruining the fucking furniture if you get sick.”

“So pessimistic,” you tease. “Levi, you don’t have to take care of me.”

The conversation dissipates.

Levi keeps his eyes on you for a second longer before turning a chin to stare straight ahead.

You continue to watch him, taking in the sharpness of his nose on his profile.

At nineteen years old, he’s grown into his once sullen face with high cheekbones and a sharp chin. His thin arms are toned under the white button-up he sports, torso cinched by the auburn vest. His fingers have small cuts, but they’re slender. Strong.

You see the way girls look at him when he passes.

He never seems to notice.

.

.

.

.

      “Ja-haaaames!”

A shrill and slurred attempt at your last name brings you back to the rowdiness of the room.

Despite Levi’s best efforts, the party goes without a hitch. A dozen, maybe two, have shown up to enjoy the spoils stolen by the Military Police: at least a crate of wine, a few half-polished bottles of whiskey, and a multitude of cigarette cartons pass through the hands of the hard-working legion that made it happen.

The lack of food in this area makes it easy for people to get sloppy on next to nothing. Within a shot or two — cheered to your name, as if eighteen years of your life in the Underground mean anything at all — half of the crew is loud and rowdy.

Laughing.

Horsing around.

Kissing.

You don’t remember when it is you dissociated from the noise, but it’s Isabel’s voice that guides you back to this cramped little apartment full of people.

“Hello, welcome back,” she greets with a giggle, handing over a tiny medicine cup of a clear liquid. “You’re out, and I need you to be on my level.”

Except you are on her level — where Isabel gets louder and more rambunctious on alcohol, you’ve become quiet, contemplative. You haven’t been able to feel your nose in at least an hour. Everything is warm, deliciously so, and your muscles don’t ache like they usually do.

“Should you even be drinking that stuff, Isa?”

“What, this? Yeah, I’m good.”

“But you’re only—”

“What do ya think about the party so far? Here.” Interrupting her own question, she places the tiny cup in your hand and taps it with her own. “Cheers to you, oh fearless one.”

“Oh stop,” you moan, taking the tiny shot with ease.

The first shot almost made you spit up the drink before it could pass down your throat. The second you forced down, clenching your teeth to air out the burn on your tongue.

Furlan was right: it gets easier every time.

“How many is that?” Isabel asks, flopping back at the wall you lean against.

“Four. Five. I don’t know, I lost count,” you answer honestly, peering down at the empty cup with scrutiny. “I feel like this is going to bite me in the ass.”

Isabel cackles, bumping her shoulder with yours. “That day is not today! C’mon, sis, don’t hide. We already have a party pooper, so you can not join Levi.”

“Levi?” you ask, blinking over to her. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Exactly. Bro’s avoiding everyone like a scaredy cat. God… Levi and James. James and Levi.” Isabel groans into her cup, sipping in contemplation. You already hate where this might be going. “That’s a topic I have wanted to—” She hiccups, taking your medicine cup. “—bring up for a while now.”

If you weren’t so preoccupied at the sound of Levi’s name, then perhaps you’d have sobered up from the neon red sign telling you to avoid this conversation at all costs.

Isabel talks over the volume of the room.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” you repeat.

“You’re going to make me say it?” For a second, your blood returns to your body. It’s spiked with an anxiety you cannot verbalize. “You two were gone for pret-ty long time this afternoon.”

“Yeah,” you quickly solve. “It was sparring hour. We always do that.”

“Not usually for that long, though.” Under a curtain of eyelashes, the redhead blinks up at you with a hope that seizes your head. “So….?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“We’re friends,” you blurt. “Colleagues, actually, which is a step below friends.”

Isabel blows disappointed raspberries. “Furlan said you two go way back.”

“We do, but—”

“Levi hand-picked you to join the gang.”

“Not really, he—”

“All he ever does is hang out with you.”

“That is not true,” you snip, itching to run. “I mean — okay, some of it is true, but I’m not the only person he talks to. Shit, Isa, I’ve known him since I was a kid. He pulled me out of a bad situation and we — no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Isabel mimes zipping her lips closed with her thumb and index finger, only to toss the invisible key somewhere in the crowd.

“Isabel.” You turn towards her, eyes widening in a desperation that even surprises your drunken state. “Get the — get that fucking key back, we aren’t—”

“We aren’t what?”

A deeper voice breaks the moment of insanity, causing Isabel to stare behind you with rounded eyes and a dropped jaw.

You stare back at her, cursing her stupid ginger mop of a head with every crude word under the sun.

Then she does about the worst thing she could do at a time like this.

“Hi, bro! Gotta go!”

“Isa—!”

Too late.

She piles in with the rest of the sloppiness, leaving you to deal with the man over your shoulder.

When you turn, Levi is there — eye-level in height and frowning, brow quirked with mild interest. The shirt he usually has so neatly aligned is popped at the collar and buttoned down to his sternum.

“You’re drunk,” is all he greets with, and the tinge of red on your face only increases.

“A little,” you admit.

To your horror, you see it: the way his lips part while he waits for an explanation, the fall of black strands over his eyes, his expanse of his naked chest—

You’re friends. You are two people who found each other in one fucked up place. You work together, live together, survive together.

So why would Isabel feel the need to open a door that you had no clue was unlocked?

“Oi.” Squinting, Levi leans in to study the drain of color from your face. “Are you—”

“I don’t feel so good.”

You don’t wait for Levi to register your interruption, instead curving past him towards the open door leading to the dead air of the Underground City.

Walking until there aren’t any bodies to stifle your next breath, you round the corner for a sense of privacy and breathe in deep through your nose.

Drunk. That’s all Isabel is — babbling and silly and drunk.

“Maybe pull your hair out of your face if you’re going to puke.”

Shit, did he—

Craning your chin over your shoulder, your worst nightmare is confirmed: Levi Ackerman stands a mere few feet from where you’ve hidden yourself, facial expression dripping with annoyance.

His arms cross over his chest once your eyes connect.

“I’m not doing it for you,” he adds when you say nothing.

The nausea dissolves in an instant, leaving you with a very heavy weight on your shoulders.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I just…”

Unable to find the right words to explain yourself, you twirl and smack into the cobblestone wall. Inch by inch you drop in height, dragging down its cold surface until you’re seated on the ground. Levi’s brows fly high, but he doesn’t move.

“This is all really surreal right now.”

Levi bites. “In what way?”

“As in I never thought I’d make it to my tenth birthday, much less my eighteenth birthday, and here we are celebrating it. No one in our house actually knows it’s a real accomplishment,” you admit in the haze of the liquor. “Everyone is happy to have us, and I’m happy to have us, but I feel this… this butterfly anxiety in my stomach every time someone says 'to many more years' like we have guaranteed years and it’s—”

The sound of his boots gently tap closer until something presses against your arm. When you lull your head to look in the direction of the sound, it’s Levi sitting beside you.

In the dirt.

A beat passes.

“You’re gonna get dirty,” you mumble.

“Don’t remind me.”

Drawing your knees to your chest, the two of you sit in silence for what feels like an hour.

You can’t pretend to know what’s going through his head — if he heard an ounce of what Isabel said, if he can hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, if he even understands the gravity of what he did.

What he’s done through these last few years.

“Why did you do it?”

The question is barely audible, but you feel Levi shift to watch you.

Head bowed to your knees, you catch your wrist between your thumb and finger and squeeze.

“Do what?”

“You gave me a second chance, Levi.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” you argue firmly, “and I never understood why. I’m glad you did, because I thought— I didn’t even see myself ever getting out of that hell, but it—”

“James.” You quiet at the soft snip of your name. “Don’t spiral. It’s the alcohol talking.”

“It’s me talking, Levi,” you argue firmly. “We always skirt around this shit. We… fight it out or whatever so we never have to bring it up. Someone has to finally say something.”

“If I give you your present early, then will you knock it off?”

You perk, chin lifting from its perch on your arm to stare at the other boy like he’s grown a second head.

He scowls, hand buried deep in his trouser pocket.

“My what?” you softly ask, and for the first time, Levi deflates.

At first it’s physical: inch by inch his body lessens its typical intensity, from shoulders to chest, arms to legs. He slumps beside you, head bowed with cascading black bangs covering his eyes.

He continues to fish around in his pocket before producing his open palm to you.

In the center lay an unassuming box, brown and thin, without labels or bows.

“Your present,” he reiterates like it’s painful.

“You got me a…”

“It’s your birthday.”

“I know it is, but you didn’t have to—”

When your eyes connect, you see it: the nerves that settle in his eyes, at the corners of his lips, as he waits with this damn box in his hand.

“What?” he asks, flat.

The walls start to build brick by cautious brick.

The window of vulnerability is closing.

Abruptly you lean forward, grabbing his hand to keep him from retreating.

Levi sways with the sudden movement, breath hitching at the way your other hand closes on top of your joined hands, trapping it.

“Don’t.”

Don’t run, is what you want to say.

Don’t hide, when you know it’s what he wants to do.

Levi stills at your command, and you slowly slip the box from his palm.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t the point of a shitty gift to open it as a surprise?” he rhetorically snaps, throat bobbing with a swallow.

Eventually you loosen your grip and free his hand. He draws it back into his lap before his hand can touch the dirt below.

You sit straighter, mindful of the way you remove the lid of the rectangular container.

Fragile, because you have no idea what Levi could possibly—

“Oh.”

Silver.

Dainty and small but more beautiful than anything you’ve ever witnessed in the Underground, you stare slack-jawed at the silver necklace nestled in a blanket of tissue paper.

Even in the forever night of the city, the jewelry gleams — and at its sloped apex sits a gemstone, smokey and small —

“If you hate it—”

“Hate it?” you interrupt in a gasped bark, stunned Levi would suggest anything of the sort.

For once, emotion shows: his eyes widen, lips parted with an apology he cannot find as you rip the necklace out of the box to hold it to your chest in a balled fist.

“How could I hate it?”

“I didn’t know if you liked silver,” he admits lamely, caught off guard.

“How the hell did you get this?”

“Bought it.”

Now it’s your turn to stare like a deer caught in a lantern’s light.

“I knocked the guy’s lights out after, so don’t look at me like I’m some fucking saint.”

He didn’t steal this.

With his own earnings, he bought this — for you?

“Why go through that trouble? This is… it has to be surface made, right?”

“A while back, you said you don’t own anything,” Levi explains, the tips of his ears turning a shade of pink. He reaches to smooth rogue baby hairs away from his face and settles his elbow on a raised knee. “Nothing proper, anyway. Now you do.”

You don’t own anything.

He’s right. You hold the necklace like stardust in the palm of your hand, studying every centimeter of its gleam.

It’s such a thoughtful idea, such a beautiful gift, that your throat closes up with budding emotion.

All of this trouble — for you.

“I might cry,” you tease, but it isn’t entirely untrue.

Levi groans like he saw that inconvenience coming.

“For fuck’s sake, do not cry.”

Then something otherworldly happens.

You both stare at the other and smile.

Although his is microscopic, it’s there: upturned corners and a crinkle in his eye, face exposed with his hair out of the way. You bite your lower lip to avoid grinning too hard, enamored with the sight before you.

The party feels so far away when Levi’s looking at you like this.

All you hear — all you see — is him.

“I might need help,” you murmur, pinching the chain between your thumb and index finger to hold out the small piece of jewelry to him.

“You think I know how these things work?”

“You’re smart. Figure it out, Ackerman.”

You hold your hair higher and turn your back to him, mimicking the things you’ve seen women do in the illustrated books Isabel’s smuggled from the surface people.

It feels right, especially when his fingertips brush along the slope of your neck.

Before you can stop yourself, a small gasp bursts from your lips. Levi either doesn’t hear or ignore it, because he’s reaching around to lay the necklace lightly on your collarbone without comment.

His fingers continue to touch the nape of your neck, careful not to pinch or scratch.

(To think hands like his can be soft.)

“That okay?” he asks behind you, his hot breath peppering your skin.

You glance down at your chest, touching the tiny gemstone with adoration.

“Perfect,” you say.

It really is.

(And it's yours. It's all yours.)

When you turn your chin to look at him, you don’t expect the proximity of his face — Levi’s nose is so close that you can see the gentle faded freckles that would have thrived with the sun.

He doesn’t slink away, doesn’t move a muscle, and you’re trapped staring at his mouth expecting an insult, a name, anything.

Nothing comes.

Instead you both remain here in the heat of two beating hearts, too afraid to run.

(Too afraid to ruin.)

Furlan said you two go way back.

“We should go inside.”

Levi, albeit strained, murmurs between you. His breath tickles your lips.

The silver around your neck shifts when your head gently shakes.

“It’s too crowded in there,” you argue without much fire.

From this angle, you can’t see his eyes. He’s too busy staring down at your mouth.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not cold,” you tell him honestly.

“No?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Must be the alcohol,” he surmises.

“It isn’t.” You’ve never been so serious in your life. “I feel sober now. Just…”

“Just what?” he asks a little too quickly.

You miss his gaze a second too late — when his eyes raise, yours drop to his lips.

His boots become one with the ground beneath you, stuck in place. You swear you hear his breath grow heavier, contemplative, and you know — know that you’re about to do that one stupid thing you’ve thought about for years.

“Tell me."

He whispers, and it shatters the glass barrier between you.

You bridge the gap and press your lips softly to his.

Levi's stiff as a board, as if his brain realizes what you've done before his body has. Eventually his chin dips forward, his lips fluttering across yours as he finds his breath.

Then he moves like a starving man that’s found his oasis.

His knee knocks into yours when he pushes, deepening his mouth’s position on yours. You fumble backwards, shoulder blades hitting the wall with a gasp. Both of your limbs fumble to grab the other’s face first, but his reflexes outshine yours.

Slow and deliberate, experimenting with the sensation, Levi kisses you. He kisses you.

You match his exploration, trembling with your hand curled around the back of his neck. He inhales sharply when your nails scratch gently against his skin, causing him to push against you more.

Like he’s drowning.

Like he doesn’t care if he ever breathes again.

Your body burns when his left hand drops from your cheek to lightly run along the gemstone at the cusp of that glittering silver necklace.

You gasp for air as your noses knock together, both silently eager to find a rhythm you can both sing to. A whimper escapes your throat when something wet runs along your lower lip. His hot breath mingles with your tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your lower belly.

Then Levi pulls away like he’s somehow hurt you, gray eyes wide and — scared.

Fearful, like he’s crossed a line.

Delirious from the high, you shake your head and run your hand through the buzzed undercut at the nape of his neck. “I wanna keep doing that.”

As if his eyes could get any wider.

Levi looks wrecked. He opens his mouth to say something, as if to find any good reason to dispute your request but closes it.

He simply nods.

Inching forward, Levi captures your lips with a tenderness you’ve never considered he could possess. He’s careful, caging your head in with both of his hands now and thumbs lazily stroking your cheeks.

You hate that you must taste like the very thing he despises.

Except Levi groans, body shuddering, and when he shifts you feel something hard against your hip. It’s fleeting, but it snaps your eyes open in surprise.

Levi’s eyes are squeezed shut. Focused.

(He doesn’t even look this determined when he’s flying around on stolen ODM gear.)

You sigh when he presses further into you, eliminating the space between, and kiss back with feverish intent. Levi drops a hand to steady your hip — whether to keep you still or to keep himself from suffocating you, you’re not sure.

Then your tongues accidentally touch again, and you can’t help but moan. “Levi.”

He grits his teeth, pulling away. “Don’t say it like that.”

Your heart seizes with uncertainty. “Say what?”

He must be in pain. His eyes are screwed shut. Then he shifts again, gliding his thigh between yours, and you know now.

Levi Ackerman is rock hard, fighting every demon in his body.

“My name,” he croaks, finally opening his eyes. His pupils are practically blown black.

“But I like your name,” you reason innocently, and he drops his forehead onto your shoulder.

“Fucking shit…” He must feel you expand your lungs to ask a question, because he stops you before you can start. “I’m fine. Just… give me a second.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, hand still buried in his hair.

His head instantly picks up, searching for your face. Studying. “For what?”

“That.” His brows move a microscopic fraction higher. “If you didn’t… I mean, I haven’t…”

“I haven’t either,” he confesses without ever explaining what he means.

Now it’s your turn to widen your stare.

Your first kiss was his first kiss, too.

Something giddy floods your system. Something stronger than any hard liquor can conjure.

“Do you regret it?” he asks under a murmur.

You adamantly shake your head. “Do you?”

It takes a breath, but he shakes his head back.

Your mouth burst into a bright smile, high on the adrenaline of the point of no return you’ve both crossed in the midnight.

Cheeks tinged with a pink hue, all Levi can do is stare — then he chuckles, breathless and bewildered.

His hand drops to take yours, tugging the both away from the wall. You follow with little resistance, squeezing his palm.

You both linger in the dark for a second longer.

Then he lets go, taking the lead back to the apartment.

You follow.

(Door, now and forever, unlocked.)

.

author's note: imagine sitting on this exact chapter since march 2023. i have been dying to post this shit. chapter 14 is taking a lil longer to write so i'll keep you posted if itll be next week or in 2 weeks.

You were five years old when you first fell in love. Or at least you thought you did. You could never know what falling in love meant at such a young age. But that’s how you want to describe it. Because your feelings for him could not be compared to how you felt about other boys. He could not be compared to other boys. That’s why you fell in love with him. But he didn’t fall in love with you. Or if he did, he never showed it.

Loud cheerful screams were the sound echoing in your ears, mixed with the soothing dreamy music coming from the merry-go-round ahead of you. The gate in front of you seemed ginormous in comparison to your small body. Rainbow fairy lights were climbing up the sides of the gate, confetti glued in between each one of them. White balloons were tied to the top and bottom corners of the pillars, leading up to the bright red and gold sign at the top which read ‘Welcome to Dreamland’.

Your eyes were roaming around the place, looking up to the sky and then left and right to the amusement park your mum took you. Soft awes and chuckles left your lips every time you spotted something new. Everything seemed magical in your eyes, the music and the colors transporting your little brain to different dimensions; this was indeed dreamland.

You stopped in front of the merry-go-round and inspected it. The blue, gold and white horses were moving up and down to the rhythm of the music, kids were riding them with cheerful smiles on their faces. You wanted to go there too. You looked at your mother to ask her to get on the merry-go-round. You opened your mouth when-

“Y/n! Y/n!” a cheery voice was calling your name. You stopped to look towards the direction of the sound, only to spot your best friend. “Yangyang!”

You let go of your mother’s hand and sprinted towards him, capturing him into a tight hug. “Wanna go to the horses?” you asked him eagerly.

“Yes! Let’s go” he agreed and your mothers helped you get on the merry-go-round. After all, it was your favorite.

You and Yangyang went on almost every ride of the amusement park. You loved bumper cars, you went on the ferris wheel with your mothers and went on almost twenty rounds on the kids’ roller coaster. You even tried to catch a teddy bear at the claw machines, but you couldn’t get the chance to do so.

After hours of trying all of the amusement park rides, your little stomach started growling and the smell of food everywhere around you only triggered your hunger more. You passed by the food canteens, smelling and taking in all the delicious scents. "What should I choose?" you thought. Just then, you spotted a stand with something strange looking; it was multi-colored fluff on sticks. Cotton candy. You had never seen it before, so you had to try it.

“Mum! I want to try this! It looks like clouds! I want the pink one!”

Your mum agreed and bought you and Yangyang one stick of cotton candy each, while his mum bought you drinks.

You went over to the tables to sit and eat your cotton candy. You sat down on a chair and took a bite. You didn’t know what to expect, but the sugary flavor definitely met those expectations.

“Wow, it tastes so pink! And it feels like the clouds! It's so fluffy!” your mother laughed at your excitement and agreed.

Yangyang was eating his cotton candy too, but he suddenly grabbed your hand and dragged you down the chair. “Let’s go for a walk. Mum, can we go for a walk?” he turned to ask his mother.

His mum shrugged. “Okay, but not too far from here, I want to see you” she said and we left, grinning.

Obviously, you didn’t listen to her. You liked the freedom you had at that moment, so you went strolling through the entire amusement park.

You and Yangyang were holding each other’s hand so that neither of you run away and got lost. Your other hands were holding the cotton candy. You felt so small among the other people and the huge amusement park rides, but you liked it. You felt at ease.

Yangyang let go of your hand and started skipped in front of you. “In the count of three I’ll start running and you will chase after me to catch me!” he said leaving you still.

“No! Yangyang, I can’t run fast!”

Yangyang didn’t listen to you. He smirked instead and started counting. “One, Two. Three!”

“Wait!” you yelled, but he had already run away.

You sighed and started running through the crowd too. You could still spot him in between other people, but you couldn’t run that fast and stumbled when taking longer steps.

Yangyang stopped and turned back to look at you. He smiled and yelled. “Come on, you’re almost there!” and resumed running.

You were breathing heavily, your feet were feeling sore, and you couldn’t move with ease through the crowd. You took a deep breath and gathered all your energy to run as fast as you could. Your only focus was to catch your friend Yangyang, who was now walking backwards looking at you with a smug expression. You had blocked out your surroundings entirely and didn’t notice that another boy was running too. And he was running towards your direction.

Yangyang was now standing, waiting for you to catch him. “I got you!” you shouted before you let out a scream and fell on the ground. The other boy was running fast too, which ended in him bumping into you. Both of you and the other boy fell down on your butts, the cotton candy you were holding was now smashed and dropped on the ground too.

“No! My fluff!” you frowned, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes.

Yangyang was shocked to see you fall. He came over to you to help you get up, smoothening your dress. “Are you okay Y/n? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to get you hurt” he was the one that sounded more hurt.

“It’s okay Yangyang” you reassured him. “But my fluff fell too! I wanted to eat it!” you whined.

Yangyang hugged you. “Don’t worry, we’ll buy a new one."

The other boy steadily stood up by himself. “I’m sorry, I was running too. I didn’t see you.” The boy said, his head lowered.

Neither you or Yangyang responded, so he lifted his head slowly to look at you. “I can buy you cotton candy if you’d like. Sorry” he apologized again.

But you couldn’t speak now either. He looked at you with sorrow eyes, plump lips forming a pout. You took a moment to really look at him. His skin was darker than yours, he was slightly taller than you, his bowl-cut covered his eyebrows, moles on his cheek and neck.

You didn’t know why, but you felt your stomach clench. You cleared your throat and spoke. “Don’t be sorry, I was running too.”

The boy nodded. “My name is Donghyuck. What’s yours?” he asked.

“I’m Y/n and this is my friend Yangyang” you pointed at your friend beside you and he flashed a bright smile to the other boy, Donghyuck.

Donghyuck smiled too and you felt your stomach clench again. “Do you guys want to be friends?” he asked and both you and Yangyang nodded. “Yes let’s be friends! Do you wanna go ride the bumper cars?” Yangyang said and grabbed both yours and Donghyuck's hands.

That’s the first memory you had of him. The first time you saw him, and the first time you've ever felt this weird clenching feeling in your stomach. This was a memory you would always cherish and always remember dearly. But you weren't really sure if he held this memory as close to his heart as you did.

Beep. Pause. Beep

Why isn’t he picking up the phone? You had called Yangyang three times already. Where is he?

You put your phone in your pocket and grabbed the books you needed for your next class from your locker. As you locked it, an arm linked with yours and dragged you to the corridor.

“Are you ready for this new semester? I heard new students transferred to our department, they might be hot” your best friend Jimin was smirking, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yeah they might be, but I have a class now and Yangyang isn’t here, I can’t cover up for him on the first day!” you complained.

“Oh come on Y/n, you know how he is. He probably slept in, he’ll be here, don’t worry” she said and you nodded.

You were walking towards your class, greeting a few of your old colleagues on the way. It was your third year of college already, but it still felt like your first day.

You and Jimin parted ways and went to your respective classes. You agreed to meet up later for coffee and lunch, after classes ended.

The amphitheater was almost full; you managed to spot an empty seat at the back of the room and hurried to sit there before someone else took that seat.

You sat down and placed the books on top of the desk. You checked your phone again and saw that Yangyang had now texted you.

[Yangles]

slept in. don’t save me a seat

ttyl :)

Typical Yangyang. You sighed and put your phone aside as the lecture was about to start.

For the next two hours, you couldn’t concentrate on the lecture because of the group of friends chatting behind you. If you were honest, their conversation was a lot more interesting than the lecture.

The girls behind you kept talking about the new students at the computer engineering department. You heard comments such as “oh he is so hot” and “they looked at me and winked”. Oh Jimin is gonna love the tea.

The lecture finally ended and you headed towards the coffee shop in which Jimin asked you to meet her. You sent her a text to let her know you’re on your way. As you were typing the text, suddenly an arm slung around your shoulder. So you let out a loud-ass scream. 

“Guess who’s here!” Yangyang exclaimed, a wide grin plastered across his face, eyes bright, his loud voice a bit too close to your ear. If you ever become deaf, it’s all his fault.

“Oh good morning to you too Yangyang, I’m fine thanks and you?” you said ironically and he rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Cut the ironies bestie, I met Donghyuck earlier” he said and your feet froze and stayed glued right where you were standing.

But you haven’t seen him in years. He moved out of town when you were fifteen, right before high school, because his parents found a better job. He had promised both you and Yangyang that he would call and maybe even visit you whenever he could. And he kept his promise for a while, but after things got tougher with school, his phone calls and occasional visits stopped.

Your stomach clenched. You gulped and removed Yangyang’s arm from your shoulder. “what do you mean Donghyuck is here?”

“I mean that Donghyuck is here” he said, rolling his eyes again, but his tone was serious. “He transferred to the computer engineering department. I came across him on campus and met his friends too. Real cool guys. He asked me about you too.”

“He did?” you regret speaking, because you didn’t expect your voice to come out that shaky.

“Um yeah, why wouldn’t he? He wants us to meet and hang out, just like the good old days. Are you free now?” 

“No, I’m actually meeting Jimin for coffee now. I was texting her before you scared the shit out of me” you said.

Yangyang laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you later then. I’ll tell Hyuck you said hi” he squeezed your cheek and left.

But you were still standing frozen, trying to comprehend what Yangyang just told you. Donghyuck is back. He is back and you couldn’t wait to see him again. So he does remember you. There must be a reason why he didn’t contact you all these years. People’s lives change, right? Does he still look as pretty as he did back then? Does he still care about you as he did back then? All these questions started forming one after the other in your head, but you couldn’t distract yourself from the clenching feeling in your stomach. In fact, these exact questions were to blame for causing you this feeling. 

You were ten years old when you fell in love again. Not that you ever fell out of love. But at least now you were sure about your feelings. It wasn’t something you had made up; it was rather a confirmation that you had loved him ever since the day you saw him.

You had went to the park with Yangyang and Donghyuck. The three of you decided to do sports in the park; Yangyang took his skateboard with him and Yangyang took his bike. You, however, didn’t take anything with you; you didn’t know how to skate and you certainly didn’t know how to ride a bike. You just wanted to tag along because you had fun spending time with your friends.

But Donghyuck had offered to help you learn how to ride a bike. Yangyang bursted out laughing so hard when Donghyuck said that. “I tried to teach her how to skate once and let me tell you, I wouldn’t even think about teaching her how to ride a bike” Yangyang said.

Yangyang always found his way to make fun of you. He didn’t do it in order to be mean; it was anything but that. He liked teasing you because you would get annoyed and then he would apologize because he felt bad. “I didn’t mean it Y/n” he would say. “I know” you always responded.

But that day Donghyuck was present in this conversation. What you didn’t expect was for him to stand up for you. “Well, in her defense Yangyang” he started “skating is too hard. It needs patience both by the skater and the student. The bike is a bit easier to handle. I think Y/n can do it”.

Every time Donghyuck spoke about you, your stomach clenched. You didn’t know what it was about him that made you feel this way. Was it his eyes? His smile? His honey skin? His soft voice? His kindness and humor? The way he treated you? You didn’t know.

Yangyang agreed with Donghyuck. “You’re right, I didn’t mean what I said. Just so you know. I think you can do this Y/n” he said, his smile fading.

“Don’t apologize Yangles, I know you didn’t mean it” you said and his signature grin appeared on his face again.

You eventually learned how to ride a bike. Donghyuck helped you every time; he taught you how to keep your balance, held you every time you were about to fall and did it every day until you were finally able to do it on your own.

One day he asked you to go to the park to ride your bikes together. Yangyang said he couldn’t come because he felt sick. So it was just you and Donghyuck.

You always felt such comfort with him. He reminded you of a warm summer day in nature. His pure gaze felt like the sun rays hitting your skin, his plump lips seemed to be as soft as the cotton fields, his laugh livelier than the chirping birds. He was comfort himself.

That day the two of you went biking, you couldn’t help but smile at the way you felt. You felt free, independent, powerful. The world surrounding you was in a haze, the only sight you could see was him, the only sound you could hear was his voice.

But sometimes it felt nice not hearing his voice. It meant that he was at peace, and you were too. You had left your bikes standing against a tree and the two of you sat down on the grassy ground to just stare at the sunset. You both loved the sunset.

Donghyuck’s arm was resting on your lower back, his head leaning towards yours, which was resting on his shoulder. Sometimes, when you sat in a position like this, you would try to match your breathing with his. If you were to be honest, you would admit that it was quite hard.

Donghyuck’s gaze was set on the colorful sea of clouds ahead of him, You did the same. He didn’t turn to look at you when he spoke up. “You know, Y/n, at moments like this, I realise how much I enjoy spending time with you. You are truly the best friend I could ever have. I would never leave you, okay?”

The words he uttered at this exact moment confirmed that you sure loved him. More than just a friend. But you could never open up to him about this. He could never know. Not when he wasn’t feeling the same. Not when he didn’t keep his promise.

Jimin was sitting at a coffee table near the window, sipping from a white plastic cup while texting on her phone. You skipped towards her and sat down on the chair opposite from hers. “Donghyuck is here”.

She put down both her cup and her phone and looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. “What? Don’t tell me he’s one of the transfer students” she said. 

“Well, apparently he is” you said. “Yangyang told me. They’ve already met. Plus, he asked about me”.

Jimin’s bottom lip dropped down to her jaw. “What?” she said again. “Okay, when are we meeting him? I need to have a word with him”.

You laughed at her reaction. “Stop it Jimin, I’m over him now. It’s been years since I had a crush on him.” you said.

“I don’t believe you. You can’t trick me with that. I won’t fall for it.” she said, her tone serious. “I know you dated and all, but you always compared everyone to Donghyuck. You expect me to believe that you moved on?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Whatever” you said.

The two of you paused for a moment before Jimin spoke up. “Do you think he got even hotter?”

You laughed at her comment and playfully slapped her forearm. “Stop it Jimin!”. She was now laughing too. “I don’t know, okay? He might be.” you said.

“Do you want to see him?” Jimin asked you and your eyes shifted down to your lap.

You seriously didn’t know. A part of you wanted to see him, talk to him, hug him and feel him again, ask him about his life and interests, spend time with him. But a part of you was scared; scared that if you saw him, you would fall in love with him again.

“My guess is that you do. Come on, I missed him a bit too” Jimin said and you chuckled. “Now, how about we get you some coffee and you tell me about your day, hm?” Jimin asked and you nodded in agreement.

The next day Yangyang insisted on picking you up from your dorm and driving you to your classes. He felt bad he missed the first day of the semester so he decided to make up for standing you up by driving you to class. You grabbed your phone to text him and let him know that you were ready but he beat you to it. He was already parked outside the dorm complex waiting for you in his car.

You opened the door from the passenger’s side and got inside the car. “Hey” you greeted him and he did the same, flashing you his signature wide grin.

“Don’t make plans for later. We’re going out tonight. You, me and Donghyuck” he said after he turned on the engine.

 The mention of this specific name took you aback. You muttered a small “okay” and you hoped he heard you the first time so you wouldn’t have to repeat it. “Should I tell Jimin to tag along? She said she would like to hang out all together too” you asked.

Yangyang shrugged. “Yeah sure, I haven’t seen her in a while. Hyuck would love to see her too” he said.

You thanked him for agreeing to invite Jimin and smiled at him. But you couldn’t ignore the clenching feeling that appeared again in your stomach.

Your thoughts carried you away and you didn’t realize you had already arrived at campus. Yangyang parked the car and both of you exited it. You exchanged a short conversation of “see you later” and “text me for any news” and went to your respective classes.

The day went by in a flash. It was already afternoon and you were in your dorm with Jimin, your closet wide open, clothes scattered all over the bed.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “I officially don’t have any clothes” you whined.

“No, you do,” Jimin said, “you’re just nervous. And I don’t even know the reason why, I thought you were over Donghyuck, right?”

“Jimin please, you’re making this even harder!” you whined again.

Jimin got up from the chair and stood in front of your closet. She searched through the racks and the drawers for a while until she stopped and put an outfit on your bed. “Here,” she said, “get dressed. And do it quickly. We’re gonna be late”.

You complied and took the clothes to get dressed. It’s just a meet up with old friends. Nothing to be stressed about. You didn’t have a crush on Donghyuck anymore either. You were probably nervous, or rather excited, because you hadn’t seen him in a long time. Yeah, that’s probably why.

You were supposed to meet Yangyang and Donghyuck at the local diner. Yangyang promised to be there earlier so that you and Jimin wouldn’t have to be the ones to wait for them. You weren’t sure whether you should believe him or not; every time he promises to be early, there’s only gonna appear something on his way to make him late.

Jimin offered to drive the two of you to the diner that you were supposed to meet your friends at. You’ve been to this diner before, you’re going out with your best friends, just a normal night out. But why is your heart beating so hard? Why does it feel like it’s about to rip your chest apart and fly out of your body?

Jimin parked the car in the diner’s parking lot. You spotted Yangyang’s car in the parking lot too, two figures standing beside it. It must be them. It must be him.

“Hello? Are you listening to me?” Jimin waved her hand in front of your face and you quickly snapped out of your thoughts. “I see them, let’s go” she said and exited the car.

You imitate her movements and get out of the car too. Jimin noticed your uneasiness, so she linked her arm with yours and walked with you towards the boys.

Yangyang and Donghyuck seemed to have a conversation about something and didn’t realize you were right there, standing in front of them. “We’re here” Jimin spoke up and the two boys turned their bodies to look at us.

Your gaze immediately fell on the boy that made your heart beat and break at the same time. Black leather jacket hanging from his shoulders, black skinny jeans and boots covering his long legs, comma-styled black hair exposing his forehead. You locked eyes with him, his chocolate ones piercing through yours, plump lips sliding upwards to a wide smile. You swear you saw sparkles in his eyes for a second. Only your heart knew the answer.

“Y/n” Donghyuck breathed out and you returned his smile, before you threw yourself on him and embraced him tightly.

He started laughing. “I missed you so much” he said in your ear and you were thankful he wasn’t able to see your face because your cheeks were almost on fire. “Cute, but I wish I could say the same bitch-ass” you laughed too.

“Oh shut up, you haven’t seen me in years and this is the treatment I get?”.Of course he clapped back. Typical Donghyuck. And right there and then, it felt as if not a single day had passed.

You hugged him tightly. You forgot how comfortable he felt. He had rested his chin in the crook of your neck and you stood on the tips of your toes to do the same. He had definitely grown a bit taller since the last time you saw him. You took a moment to remember his scent, to feel his touch, to hear his voice. And then the clenching feeling was there again.

Yangyang cleared his throat. “Um, we’re here too, you know” he trailed off. You and Donghyuck broke the hug and Donghyuck motioned Yangyang and Jimin to join you in a group hug. Your cheekbones hurt because you were smiling so hard. Your heart fluttered. You were happy.

Yangyang was the first one to break off the hug because he started whining and said he was hungry, so he went inside the diner and invited us in. Donghyuck followed shortly after him, leaving you and Jimin behind. Jimin turned at you and mouthed “girl he’s so hot” and went inside the diner. Typical Jimin, you thought.

Time seemed to have stopped and felt like you were trapped in a loop. Spending time with your favorite people, laughing, talking, reminiscing about the past while making plans for the future. You only stopped the conversations when you had to take a bite from your food or take a sip from your drink. Yangyang didn’t seem to be bothered by that though. 

“So,” Donghyuck started and you shifted your gaze to your drink “are you still dating that guy Y/n?”

Oh he was talking to you. You looked up at him, confused. “Who? Dejun? Well, no, we broke up, like, so long ago” you said.

“Yeah he yeeted his way out to be a model in China or something, honestly who even cares? I almost forgot about him” Yangyang said after he emptied his glass of beer.

Donghyuck chuckled at Yangyang’s remark and went back to eating his food. Jimin kicked you under the table and when you looked at her side, she was smirking.

“Well Yangyang, how about you tell us about your relationship, hm?” you asked him and he choked on his food. He started coughing and Donghyuck patted him on his back to help him breathe.

“Let's not talk about it bestie, okay? I know I fucked up” he said after he caught his breath.

“Why what happened? Donghyuck asked, intrigued.

Jimin was the one who spoke this time. “He's supposed to be dating this girl but he never texts her, calls her or takes her out. Basically he never wants to spend time with her. I seriously don’t know why she hasn’t broken up with him yet”.

Yangyang lowered his eyes. “It’s not like I don’t wanna see her,” he muttered, “but I may or may not have lost feelings and I kinda don’t know how to tell her”.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a coward you would confront her and stop playing with her. It’s that easy you know. Whether you love or don’t love someone anymore, you should tell them before it’s too late” you told him.

“Sounds brave coming from you, Y/n” his response caught you off guard. You threw a piercing glare at him and before you opened your mouth to speak, Jimin spoke over you. “Maybe we should change the topic, what do you think?” she said.

You and Yangyang exchanged a look and focused your attention on your food. Donghyuck chuckled at the interaction between you and your best friend, but he didn’t say anything. 

The rest of the night went on smoothly and you soon forgot about the tension between you and Yangyang from earlier. He was right though. You should consider your own advice sometimes. Why can’t you tell Donghyuck you like him? Why didn’t you tell him when you had the chance to do so? Your feelings for him began to resurface and it was just the first time you saw him after years. You couldn’t let yourself make the same mistake again.

The entire night you and Donghyuck kept throwing hidden glances at each other. You caught him staring at you multiple times and if you were honest with yourself, you did stare at him too. You couldn’t ignore the fact that he looked beautiful. He had always been beautiful.

Your mind, however, was focused on something else, something you wanted to have an answer to. Why did he stop reaching out for you when he left? You needed to know the reason why. He must have had a reason. You tried to push this thought aside and allowed yourself to have a good time. I’ll ask him another time, you thought.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. And it was none other than Lee Donghyuck himself who stole it from you. Part of you believed that the reason you were so attached to him even now was because of that day; he gave you your first kiss. But a part of you knew that the kiss was the incident that tied everything together.

Donghyuck announced one day that the company his parents worked in was moving their main offices to a different town, so they had to move away from this place. The same day, you announced to your friend Jimin that you had your first heartbreak. Of course you were going to miss him. A lot. Yangyang was sad too that day. Jimin didn’t know him well enough, but she still felt sad when Donghyuck told you all.

The day before Donghyuck and his family would move away, Yangyang had an idea; to throw a goodbye party for Donghyuck. Donghyuck disagreed and said that a normal hangout with all of us would be just fine, but Yangyang insisted on throwing a party at his place. It will still be just the four of us but a little bit fancier, he had said.

So eventually everyone agreed. The previous day, you and Yangyang went to the shops to buy snacks and some decorations. You were walking around the convenience store aisles when Yangyang finally admitted to his ulterior motives.

“So, Y/n, here’s what we’re gonna do. For the party. I think we should play games but in a more adult way, if you know what I mean” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

You looked at him confused and urged him to continue. “So we’ll play spin the bottle. And before you protest, no we’re not gonna drink anything with alcohol in it because we’re gonna get caught, but it’s gonna be a good excuse for me to kiss Jimin and for you to kiss Donghyuck”.

You stopped walking with a bag of chips in your hands and turned to him. “Are you out of your mind? This cannot happen, ever!” you whisper-shouted at him.

“Oh come on Y/n, don’t be such a party pooper. We both win in the end so what’s the matter?” he whined.

You thought for a few seconds. “They might be uncomfortable and turn down your offer. We want to have fun, remember? Plus, I don’t think Jimin likes you back and Donghyuck certainly doesn’t like me back either” you said and put that bag of chips you were holding into the shopping cart.

“Okay, Jimin might not like me back but I am completely, utterly, absolutely sure that Hyuck likes you” Yangyang said but you ignored him.

As if the odds were against you that day, Jimin and Donghyuck agreed on Yangyang’s suggestion. Jimin wasn’t that fond of the idea of playing spin the bottle at first, but eventually the boys convinced her and she said yes. You had no other choice but to agree too.

You wanted to kiss Donghyuck. You really did. But not in a forced scenario and definitely not in front of Yangyang. You wouldn’t bear his annoying ass teasing you about it for the rest of your life. But this could be my chance to finally confess to him, you thought. But even if you did, nothing would change. He would still leave town the next morning.

Yangyang grabbed the glass of cola you emptied earlier and put it on the ground. You gathered up sitting on the ground too. You looked at Jimin and she smiled at you. “Don’t think about it too much Y/n, it’s just a game”. It wasn’t just a game to you.

Yangyang was the first one to spin the bottle. The empty cola bottle spun for a few seconds, four sets of eyes staring at it with laser rays coming out of them. The bottle started gradually spinning less quickly, until it took three, two, one seconds before it stopped and became still; the top part of the bottle was pointing at Jimin and the bottom part was at Yangyang’s side. “Oh my god Jimin has to kiss you bro” Donghyuck said, smiling.

“This game is bullshit, I don’t wanna do it” Jimin said and crossed her arms. Jimin’s words made Yangyang’s lips drop down to a frown.

“Come on Jimin, it’s just a game, you said it yourself” Donghyuck said. Jimin sighed and leaned towards Yangyang. “Fine, come here then you bitch” she said before she grabbed Yangyan’s jaw and kissed him on the lips. You and Donghyuck stayed still, watching them. Jimin only went in to peck Yangyang, but he went all the way in and kissed her properly. Jimin was quick to react and pulled away from him.. “Ew, don’t do that! We agreed on just a kiss not a full on makeout session. Jeez Yangyang” she said and sat back down at her side.

Yangyang tried to hide the sulk on his face. “I tried to taste your chapstick more, you bitch, but it turns out it tastes awful. What the fuck is this taste?” Yangyang said and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“It's vanilla” Jimin said. Yangyang loved vanilla.

The game continued for a couple of rounds and every single time, as if it was its fate, the bottle landed on Jimin and Yangyang. Jimin had already had enough with kissing Yangyang just once, so she suggested that they avoid the kissing part and just hug instead. This went on and on and on until the bottle spun again, going round and round and round until it stopped in three, two, one. But this time, the bottle’s ends were pointing towards two different directions. The bottom part on you, the top part on Donghyuck.

You gulped and looked at him. He seemed calm, relaxed. For him, it was just a game. Sitting there at that moment, looking right into his deep brown eyes, you regretted agreeing to play this game. And you made a mental note to slap Yangyang after all of this was over.

“Now this is getting interesting” Yangyang whispered just loud enough for you to hear him and went over to Jimin's side to sit beside her and watch.

Donghyuck licked his lips and leaned over towards you. You hoped he wouldn't be able to listen to the drumming sounds of your heart or see the embarrassingly vibrant red color on your cheeks. You just went along with it. It’s just a game, right?

Donghyuck was standing a bit too close to you, probably the closest the two of you have been physically. Or rather, the most intimate you’ve been together. He lowered his head to meet your eye level, and came closer to your face just enough so that his lips were grazing over your ear. “Don’t be nervous, it’s just for fun” he whispered to you. Suddenly, this wasn’t just fun anymore.

Donghyuck pulled away from your ear and was now staring deep into your eyes, his face almost attached to yours. He looked at you for a couple of seconds before he gave you a reassuring nod. You didn’t have the energy to say anything, so you gave him a nod too, signaling him that you were fine.

Before you could even process what was about to happen, Donghyuck leaned in and kissed you. Plump lips captured yours in a soft dancing motion, their taste perfectly resembling a mix of the pizza and cola he had earlier. Shock waves run throughout your entire body, as he moved his hand to the back of your neck to support you.

You allowed yourself to fall entirely into him, eyes closed and lips moving along the rhythm he created. A few seconds felt like hours, his homely yet unfamiliar touch making your stomach clench and your face heat up in love.

And then he stopped. Donghyuck pulled back and flashed the brightest smile you had ever seen painted on his beautiful face. He licked his lips and you laughed awkwardly, looking down at your lap to avoid his piercing gaze. Your heart was still beating rapidly. You could taste his lips on your lips, you could feel the touch of his hand in the back of your neck, you could hear the sound of his beating heart, you could sense his cool breath fanning your burning face. Donghyuck had stopped kissing you, but the sensation of his kiss was still present in your entire body. You just had your first kiss, and at the same time, you had your first kiss with Donghyuck.

“Gosh you were kissing for ages. Like, get a room, or something” Yangyang said and went back to sit on the side of the room he was previously sitting in. Jimin threw you a playful wink secretly from the boys. You knew what it meant. We need to talk later type of wink.

It was getting late and Donghyuck’s parents called him to go back home. He needed to leave sooner than the rest of you because he still hadn’t packed all of his things. You greeted him one last time before he walked out the door to leave.

As the door closed, you felt your heart sink down the deepest ocean, a piece of it shattering, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, dryness in your throat. You missed him already. It had been just a couple of seconds since he walked out the door and your heart to go out that door with him too.

A tear streamed down your cheek.So this was it. A second tear followed shortly after the first one. Then another one. And another one. Soon enough a pool of tears was running down your face and it hadn’t occurred to you that you were going to miss him that much. 

But as if a lightning bolt struck you, you quickly wiped your tears with the palm of your hands, stormed out the door and ran after Donghyuck.

“Donghyuck!” you yelled and he stopped to look back at you. You were lucky he heard your voice, he hadn’t walked that far though, you were quick to react and follow after him, just so you could spend some more time with him. You and him.  “Do you mind if I walk you home?” you asked him and he nodded.

You skipped a bit so that you could walk beside him. You started walking alongside Donghyuck, taking a few seconds to catch your breath until it came back to its normal rate. “So, when are we gonna see you again?” you asked him. He left a low chuckle and shook his head.

“I honestly don’t know, Y/n” he said. Another piece of your heart shattered.

Donghyuck noticed your saddened expression and took your hand in his. "Hey, look at me” he said. You stopped and turned towards him, taking in the details of his face. His chocolate eyes were gleaming under the moonlight, the moles on his dark cheek reminded you of the stars in the night sky.

“I will not forget you. Ever. Always remember that. I will try my best to call you as much as I can, all of you. You guys are my best friends, I could never leave you. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, it won’t be that easy for me to visit you often. but I promise to make up for all the time that we will lose. Especially for you. But I can’t be sure when that will be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek again and he wiped it away with his thumb. Why is he being like this all of a sudden?

Your voice wasn’t strong enough at that moment for you to speak, so you opened your arms to embrace him instead. And he hugged you back so tightly you thought your body would be merged with his. He buried his head at the crook of your neck and you stayed there for a while, feeling the presence of your bodies on each other. Not a single word was said, yet you felt so comfortable and safe in his arms.

That night you had helped him pack his things. You stayed in his room afterwards, talking, laughing, crying. God you were going to miss him. That day, you thought for the first time ever that maybe your feelings were reciprocated. But he said nothing about it. So you didn’t say anything either.

But you wanted to. It felt like all the words were stuck in your throat and there was something blocking them from coming out. I like you Donghyuck, I like you a lot. It was that easy. But for some reason, you couldn’t say it out loud. Maybe you didn’t want to. Maybe you were too scared of rejection. Or maybe you were afraid of losing a friend.

You and Donghyuck were sitting at the stairs of his porch, next to each other, facing the stars of the night sky. You didn’t want to go home. You couldn’t. You wanted to stay there longer, kiss him again, talk to him about anything and then kiss him again.

When you stood up to leave, he hugged you one last time, stroking your hair lightly. He spoke in a low voice in your ear. “I’ll be back. Don’t forget me”.

How could I ever forget you Donghyuck?

The day after you met Donghyuck at the diner, he texted you and asked to hang out later after your classes. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t screech like a schoolgirl the moment you saw his text message on your phone when you woke up.

Of course you agreed to meet him. At that moment, you didn’t feel nervous, at all,  but as time passed your stomach was clenching more and more.

Jimin wouldn’t stop nudging you about it the entire day. She wanted to meet up for lunch because she was dying to talk about this ever since you came back home last night. “The first thing he did in the morning was to ask you to hang out later? Yeah, sounds like a date to me” she said.

You rolled your eyes at her. “It's not a date, drop it. He just wants us to hang out, that’s it” you said.

“Are you sure that you want to just hang out though?” she asked you.

You thought for a second. “Well, no, but I won't try to do anything more than that” you said.

“Whatever,” Jimin said “you have to tell him sometime though, you know that right? And you also have to admit to yourself that you never really got over him, so now that he’s here you have to make your move. You had your chance once and you lost it. So don’t lose it again now”.

You sighed. “What if he doesn’t feel the same” you said.

“Who gives a fuck?” Jimin said “If he doesn’t feel the same, you will close this chapter and begin a new one. There are other fish in the sea too, you know”

Yeah but it’s not the same, you whispered to yourself. Jimin didn’t hear you.

As soon as you came back to your dorm, you went straight to searching through your closet for an outfit to wear later, when your phone chimed.

[Hyuck]

meet me at the park in about hour

[Hyuck]

bring your bike too

You were staring at your phone screen until it turned off. Oh he’s such a little bitch, you thought.

You put on comfortable clothes and running shoes, and decided to ride your bike on the way to the park. The sun was beginning to set; orange and pink hues painted the sky, a light chilly breeze combing through your hair. The park was still lively, little kids were playing with each other, old couples were going for walks, some students were studying under the trees.

You hadn’t been to the park since the day Donghyuck left. Yangyang wanted to go skating there from time to time, but every time he asked you to keep him company, you turned down his offer. Then, he started filling his time with dating girls and you started spending more time with Jimin, so the park wasn’t your go-to place to hang out anymore.

You saw Donghyuck leaning against a tree, foot resting on top of the bike’s pedal, same black leather jacket as the day before, a bucket hat hiding his pretty features. He was scrolling through his phone as you approached him.

“Hey” you said and his head shot up, turning off his phone and placing it in his pocket. “Y/n, hi” he said and smiled. You smiled back at him. He looked beautiful when he smiled.

“So, you still like the park, I see” you said. He nodded and hopped on his bike. “I do. So come on, let’s go for a ride. I think we have to catch up on a lot of things. And I promised to make up for all the time we lost. So, let’s go” he said and started riding his bike.

You followed shortly after him until you were now biking beside him. So he does remember his promise, you thought. You smiled to yourself and pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind. You wanted to enjoy your time with him, just like the old times.

You spent hours biking and talking about anything. Donghyuck told you stories from his high school years, the friends he met on the way, how he changed his college major and decided to come back here to study computer engineering.

“A part of me wanted this change because I missed this town, you know? I have so many memories here, I was kinda attached to this place. All I needed was a valid reason to come back, and I found one, so here I am.” he said.

You couldn’t help but bring the same questions to your mind, so you gathered all of your strength and asked him. “Then why didn’t you visit us at all? Or even call us back? You did at first and then you stopped. Why?”

Donghyuck pulled the breaks of his bike and rested his feet on the ground to stop the bike from moving. You mimicked his actions and stood there searching his features for an answer. He cleared his throat and turned to look at you. You couldn’t see his face clearly because the bucket hat was casting a shadow over his features.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I didn’t want to stop contacting you, but I don’t know why I did it.” He paused for a few moments. He drew in a breath and started again. “You know what, I think I know, but I can’t tell you now. Maybe some other time, okay?” he said.

You were left confused, but decided not to question him any further. Instead, you nodded and smiled at him. He would tell you when he was ready to do so.

The sky was getting darker and darker and both your stomachs growled in hunger. Donghyuck suggested that you buy takeout and sit under at the park to stargaze. You left your bikes leaning against a random tree and put your jackets on the ground to sit on them.

The sky looked beautiful. The stars and the moon were shining brightly, contrasting with the pitch black background of the sky. Donghyuck was staring at the sky when he spoke up “I remember how much you liked watching the sky when you were younger. You were always watching the stars closely and we made bets on which one would fall first.”

You chuckled at the memory. “And you always lost. Every. Single. Time. Seriously, you have no intuition at all. You had won one time and bragged about it forever” you said and he laughed.

He turned his head to face you. He had taken off his hat too, his black hair was falling over his eyes. “You were just lucky all the other times. Don’t flatter yourself” he said.

You sat there and ate your food in silence. Comfortable silence. The only sound that was heard was the singing of the cicadas in the trees and occasionally your munching on the food.

Everything felt at ease again. You and Donghyuck, sitting beside each other, enjoying each other’s company, not having to utter a single word. You were smiling at yourself, it really felt as if not a single day had passed.

Donghyuck looked back at the sky and took a sip from his drink before he addressed you. “You really improved. Biking, I mean. I remember you were still struggling when I left” he said.

“Thanks, I still rode my bike to school so that I could get used to it more. Thank you for teaching me by the way. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly” you said.

“It's no problem” he said and sipped from his drink again.

He opened his mouth to speak again, changing the subject now. “So, why did you break up with that guy? Dejun, was it?” he asked.

Why is he so curious about that? “Oh, there were many reasons actually. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was really cool and I liked him a lot. It’s just that we got kinda bored of each other, I guess? And he also graduated from high school a year earlier than me so then he had to go back to China for college.”

Donghyuck nodded. “I see” he paused and asked again. “How was he like?”

“Why do you even bother so much? He is old news now, anyway” you said. But now you were curious about Donghyuck too. “Tell me about you, did you date anyone in high school?”

You don’t know why but you got anxious waiting for his answer. He shrugged. “Yeah but nothing serious. Just casual things, you know?” he said and you hummed in agreement.

The night went on and you talked more. You and Donghyuck agreed to hang out at the park every day after your classes, like you used to. That’s what he suggested. You couldn’t say no; of course you wanted to spend time with him.

And that’s what you did. You grew closer again, maybe even closer than you used to be. You enjoyed biking and stargazing in the park a lot. It had become your thing; an activity that the two of you shared with each other, an excuse to get away from everyone and everything and make up for all the memories you could have had.

There were quite a few moments when you wanted to look Donghyuck in the eyes and tell him I like you dumbass. But every single time you backed away from doing it. You were too scared that these harmless words would end up destroying everything you had built with him.

So you waited. You waited for the right time to bring it up. You were having the time of your life alongside a dear person that you’ve loved and appreciated your entire life. You were not ready to take the risk and possibly lose him. So you never said a word. Because he didn’t say any words either.

“Why does Donghyuck keep asking me about Dejun? What is so interesting about him? If he wants to find out more about him, he should be the one to date him” the frustration in your voice made a couple of people turn their heads from the tables next to yours.

Jimin took a fork bite of her carrot cake. “Girl, you must be joking” she said, munching on the piece of cake. “He asks about him because, guess what, he is jealous! J-e-a-l-o-u-s. Got it? Why are you so stupid, gosh! The man has clearly fallen for you and you are so oblivious of it!”.

“I mean why would he be jealous? Dejun and I broke up so long ago” you muttered to yourself.

Jimin heard that and, obviously, she wouldn’t leave it at that. “This is what happens when you like someone. Donghyuck keeps asking you about your ex boyfriend because he wants to make sure he’s in the clear to make a move.”

You sighed. “Is this why you keep asking Yangyang if he broke up with his girlfriend? Look, Jimin, I love you, but I don’t think Hyuck likes me. As a friend, yes. But nothing more than that.”

Jimin gulped down a glass full of water. “Okay, whatever floats your boat, Y/n” she said and took another fork bite of her cake. “So, did Yangyang tell you? A frat guy he knows is hosting a party this weekend, wanna go?” she asked you.

“Come on Jiminie, you know I don’t really do parties” you whined.

Jimin rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting a different answer. But we’re definitely going. There’s gonna be hot boys, good music and lots of alcohol. I heard Donghyuck is going too”.

“Well, he didn’t mention any party” you defended him. “He didn’t mention any party yet” Jimin corrected you. “He's gonna bring it up any second. I bet you can’t say no to him, you care too much about his feelings but you never care about mine” Jimin sulked.

You mentally slapped her only because you couldn’t bear to slap her for real. “I will go to the party because you want us to go, not because Donghyuck will supposedly be there. You know I always come along with you in everything. We come as a package, remember? Now, don’t sulk and eat your cake, we have to think about our outfits” you said. She was your best friend after all, it was the least you could do.

Jimin’s face lit up and her lips curved upwards, stretching all the way to her ears. Before she could open her mouth to speak, you cut her off. “But you have to promise me that you won’t get drunk, okay?” you said and lifted your pinky.

She linked her pinky finger with yours and nodded in agreement. “I don’t exactly promise it, but I’ll try my best” she said.

Donghyuck indeed mentioned the party later that day when you went out at the park with him. “I don’t really wanna go either Y/n, but all my friends are gonna be there. And now that you’re gonna be there too, I can’t be the only one missing out from all the fun” he said.

Donghyuck has had his fun share with parties during high school. He told you so one night at the park. He would sneak out the house and go to parties during weekends, but one night, or rather morning, he went home super drunk and threw up all over the front door rug. He claimed that this happened because of a dare his friends made him do and that he didn’t intend to drink as much as he did. After that, he avoided parties like the plague. It’s not that his parents never allowed him to go again; he could easily sneak out his window. He was smart enough to realize that parties were simply not good for him.

“I wanted to fit in with them, you know?” Donghyuck said “I got used to it eventually and I actually kinda liked it, but now I don’t really enjoy such things”.

That’s one of the many reasons you liked Donghyuck so much. His honesty. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind about things that bothered him, or simply voice out his thoughts. So why wasn’t he doing it with his feelings too? Was it so hard for him too? Did he actually like you, like Jimin said? Or maybe you just wanted to believe that he did. If he really did, he would probably have said it by now.

But his actions spoke louder than his words. You couldn’t help but think about the way he looked at you under the night sky when you were staring at the stars but he was staring back at you. Or when he wiped your strawberry milk stains from the corners of your lips and his fingers stayed there brushing your lips a little longer than they should be. Or when he held you close to him among big crowds so that he wouldn’t lose you from his sight. Or when he would let you rest your head on his chest while he was stroking your hair so that you could fall asleep faster.

You swear you had heard him whisper something to you once, but when you asked him to repeat it he waved it off. Were you that desperate for his attention? Maybe. But maybe both of you were fools, afraid to let their heart be free because of the painful possibility that it might break.

You and Jimin were standing in front of the frat house door, the loud music blasting through the speakers behind the wall created a throbbing base sound in your ears, your heart beat in sync with the beat of the song that was playing from inside that house.

“Do we knock or...” Jimin trailed off before the door slid wide open and a tipsy young man stood by it. “Welcome ladies, come on in” he said. You and Jimin looked at each other for confirmation before hesitantly taking a step forward. The young man stepped aside so that you could get through the door.

The place was dark, the only source of light being the neon special effects lighting coming from the DJ set. The rooms were packed with people, some of them already drunk, some of them dancing all over each other, the mixed odor of sweat, alcohol and weed making you dizzy. At that exact moment you reminded yourself that this was why you didn’t like parties.

You and Jimin stood there, eyes wandering all over the room, trying to take in the scenery in front of you. “Damn, this is so cool” Jimin breathed out.

The guy who opened the door a few seconds ago was nowhere to be seen. A girl was walking with her sunglasses on, when she bumped into Jimin and spilled a bit of her drink on the ground, a drop of it landing on Jimin’s shoe. A “sorry” was barely audible on top of the loud music and Jimin stood there looking at her shoe in disgust.

“I guess it’s not that cool” she said and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go get ourselves some drinks.”

You walked towards the kitchen which was a bit brighter compared to the other rooms. Bottles of different types of alcohol were lined up on the kitchen counter. Juice boxes, ice and plastic red cups were placed on the kitchen table. A group of boys were refilling their cups with their alcohol of choice, while a couple was making out up against the wall next to the fridge.

Jimin’s disgusted expression from earlier appeared again. You decided to ignore your surroundings and went over to the kitchen counter to grab a drink for you and Jimin.

“Where’s Yangyang?” Jimin asked

“I honestly have no idea. He said he’d text me once he gets here, but I’m a bit surprised he didn’t arrive earlier than us. He doesn’t miss on such things” you said and Jimin nodded.

“And Donghyuck?” she asked again

You put the bottle of alcohol down and grabbed a box of grapefruit juice. You shrugged. “ No idea either.”

Jimin smirked at your answer, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she took her cup and guided you out of the kitchen towards the living room. “Come on, let’s dance” she said.

The music was blasting into your eardrums and your body caught the rhythm of the music, adjusting its muscles to move along to it. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Your body was swaying to the fast-paced song that the DJ was playing when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

[Hyuck]

where are you?

[Hyuck]

can’t see you

You lifted your head to look around the crowded living room in hopes of finding Donghyuck. It didn’t take you long before you could spot him among the crowd, though. You could never miss him anywhere, he always stood out in your eyes. Your gaze caught his, and his lips curved a bit when he saw you.

He tried to squeeze between the people dancing in the living room in order to get to your place. “What are you looking at?” Jimin asked you when she noticed that something bothered you.

You didn’t have time to answer her, because Donghyuck grabbed your arm to smoothly turn your body around and shift your attention to him. You felt a lump in your throat, your breath trapped inside your lungs. There he stood, messy hair falling onto his eyes, black graphic shirt and jeans, a Cuban link around his neck and matching rings on his fingers contrasting with the dark colors of his outfit. He looked gorgeous.

He flashed you a smile, raising his voice so that you could hear him. “Hi” he said. He simply said hi. Yet a group of butterflies started dancing in your stomach. You said it back.

Jimin got the message and leaned in your ear. “I think I saw some girls I know from one of my classes. I’d better leave you two” she said and turned on her heel to leave.

Donghyuck waved Jimin off and grabbed your hand. He then bent a bit lower and leaned in your ear. “Should we go somewhere quieter?” he asked you, his low voice vibrating in your ear. You could only nod.

Donghyuck walked in the front and you followed behind him, still holding his hand. He led you outside the house, towards the back yard. Plastic cups were scattered all over the grassy ground, two girls passed out beside some bushes, a guy sipping alcohol from a glass bottle and dancing on his own. Yeah, parties were weird.

You felt weirded out and uncomfortable at the sight and Donghyuck sensed it. He squeezed your hand and you looked up at him. He nodded to the large swing beside the barbecue stand and motioned you to go and sit there.

You sat down on the swing and Donghyuck copied your movement. He leaned his body towards the back so that it touched the back of the swing and with a swift motion, he pushed his feet on the ground and the swing started moving. You lifted your feet off the ground and let Donghyuck rock the swing smoothly.

You sat in silence for a moment, that comfortable silence that only existed when you were with Donghyuck, which was interrupted by his honey voice. “I don’t like parties” he simply said.

You turned to look at him but he was staring into the void in front of him. “ I have bad memories when it comes to parties” he said.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t want to. You always let him open up to you without interrupting his stream of thoughts.

Donghyuck drew in a sharp breath. “Remember that story I told you about that party? That one when I went home the next day and threw up all over the door? Yeah that one. I couldn’t bear going to something like this again when the last time I did, I didn’t even do it for myself. Did you know that I started drinking so that kids at my new school thought I was cool? That’s how I ended up spilling my guts all over my mother’s rug.”

He turned to look at you. “Pretty disgusting, huh?” he chuckled.

You chuckled too. You lowered your gaze to your feet. “Then why did you come here tonight?” you asked him.

“I don’t know” he said without even thinking about his answer. “I guess I came for my friends again.“ He paused for a second and spoke again “And I guess I also came to see you, mostly” he trailed off.

You stilled at his words and you thanked yourself for staring at your shoes and not looking at him, because he would be able to see the embarrassingly bright red color of your cheeks.

“But you see me everyday. We hang out all the time” you said.

“I know” he said. That’s all he said. What was that even supposed to mean?

Before you could speak, Donghyuck got up from the swing and extended his arm in front of you. “Come on, let's get out of here. This party sucks, we both hate it, so why waste our time? Let’s leave. Me and you.” he said.

You looked up at him. “Hyuck,” you trailed off “as much as I hate this party and as much as I want to leave with you, I promised Jimin to keep her company” you really hated that you had to say this.

“Jimin has found other people to hang out with, she’ll be fine, I know it.” Donghyuck said, a glimpse of hope in the tone of his voice.

That glimpse vanished when you rejected his offer for the second time, the corners of his mouth dropping to a frown. “I’m sorry Hyuck, I can’t” you said.

Donghyuck nodded to himself and put his hands inside his pockets. He cleared his throat but his voice still came out a bit raspy and low. “It’s okay, I get it.”

Your heart shuttered upon seeing him like this. You really didn’t want to make him feel bad, but you had also promised Jimin to be there for her since she wanted this so much. And you couldn’t let yourself break that promise, even though it was actually a bit trivial. Because in all honesty, Jimin would really be fine.

But also a small part of you was too flustered to spend time alone with Donghyuck at that moment. You felt as if you weren’t capable of controlling your emotions; your feelings kept growing stronger and stronger, and his presence alone was enough to make you feel overwhelmed with love.

The back door opened and someone came running through it. “Donghyuck, dude!” a guy you didn’t quite recognize yelled and came to grab Donghyuck by his arm. “You’re missing out on all the fuuuun my dude, come in back insideeee we’re gonna get fucking wasted!” the guy was yelling and patting Donghyuck on the back of his neck while dragging him inside the frat house.

Donghyuck said something you didn’t quite catch, and he tried to let go of the guy’s hold on him, but he failed to do so. The guy had already taken him to the back door and inside the house.

The door closed shut behind them and you left sitting on the swing by yourself, rocking it slightly with your feet. You shivered under the cool evening breeze and wrapped your arms around your body to shield yourself from the cold.

You didn’t want to go back inside. You promised Jimin to keep her company, but a frat party was the last place you wanted to be at, at that time. You grabbed your phone and, speaking of the devil, a few texts from Jimin appeared on your screen.

[Jiminie]

spotted yangyang. pretty sure he took a girl to a room

[Jiminie]

doesn’t he a gf?

You sighed reading Jimin’s texts. You really had to have a talk with Yangyang. And Jimin, for that matter. At least you knew that he was safe and that you probably won’t have to take care of him like a baby after you leave the party.

[you]

let him be, we’ll kick his ass tomorrow

[you]

where are you?

The text you wrote was delivered for the next 15 minutes. Jimin hadn’t read your message. All of a sudden, your hands became sweaty and your chest felt heavy as if a rock had fallen onto it.

Why didn’t she text me back?

Worry started welling up inside you and you rushed inside the house looking for your best friend. The music had got louder, the crowd was bigger, the smell of alcohol and weed more prominent. You went running up and down the stairs, kicking open every single door you found on your way.

Still, Jimin was nowhere to be found.

You stood at the edge of the stairway for a second to catch your breath. You opened your phone to call her and started walking towards the bathroom, the last room you didn’t check.

The phone was beeping in your ear, but Jimin didn’t pick up. You exhaled sharply and opened the bathroom door, still holding the phone in your ear. The sweat on your palms and the rock on your chest magically disappeared when you saw Jimin kneeling in front of the toilet with an arm holding her hair back out of her face.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips and you stopped the phone call. “Thank god you’re safe. I was so freaked out you bitch” you said and crouched down beside her. “Are you okay?” you asked her.

Jimin nodded and let her hair fall down her shoulders. She wiped her lips with the back of her palm before she spoke. “I’m okay. I had a bit too much alcohol and I threw up. But I feel better now. Sorry for making you worried” she said.

You opened your arms and she fell into your embrace. You stroked her head lightly, as you could feel her warm tears wetting the fabric of your shirt on your shoulder. She promised not to drink too much, but your gut somehow knew you’d better stay there at the party because something like this would be inevitable. “It's okay Jiminie, I was the one who left you alone, I promised to keep you company” you said.

She pulled back from the hug. “I guess we both broke each other’s promise” she chuckled and you did the same.

Jimin sniffled and wiped her already dry tears. “Why are you alone? Where is Donghyuck?” she asked you.

“We were sitting outside but then a random guy came and dragged him back inside. He seemed pretty wasted” you replied.

Jimin’s eyes widened and she stood up abruptly. “Oh no, oh no no no” she said.

You stood up too. “What? Jimin, what's wrong?” you asked her curiously.

“If it's the guy I think it is, then Donghyuck might be stupid drunk right now, or even worse, under the influence. We need to find him. Now” she said and ran out the bathroom and down the stairs, skipping a couple of steps while doing so.

You followed right after her, the rock falling on your chest again. You hated parties. This was final. Things like this are unavoidable in parties, and you hated the fact that your friends had to go through shit every single time.

The music wasn’t as loud as earlier and the living room didn’t feel as crowded. Most of the people were gathered outside in the backyard, or were already passed out on the beds or the floors of the bedrooms.

You and Jimin spotted a group of people gathered in a circle in the middle of the living room. Everybody was sitting on the carpeted floor, bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere around them. You noticed that a guy was holding a blunt and kept rotating it to every person gathered in that circle. Oh no. 

Their voices were mixed in with the music coming from the DJ set, so all you could see was their mouths moving without saying anything meaningful. The smoke of the blunt made the living room foggy and your lungs were struggling to work properly in between the crowded room.

The stinging sensation in your eyes caused by the smoke and flashing lights made your eyes watery and you could not tell apart any face in the crowd, except for Jimin who was standing next to you.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Jimin whispered.

You rubbed your eyes in order to clear your vision without even caring if this would ruin your makeup. The faces on the people sitting on the floor became clearer, and it didn’t take you long before you spotted the familiar chocolate eyes looking drowsy, honey fingers placing the blunt in between soft plump lips.

A girl passed Donghyuck the blunt and he took a long and slow drag from it, exhaling the smoke into the thick air creating smoke rings. He then gave the blunt to the person next to him and he leaned back supporting his body with his elbows.

Donghyuck was wasted. Whatever that guy did to him in such a little time got to him immediately. His chocolate eyes were drowned in a pool of red, his hair looking messier than before and his clothes were all wrinkled.

You stood there frozen looking at him. If you had tried to keep him away from that guy, he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. He had told you that he was pressured by other people to do stuff he didn’t want to do, but was he that naive to let this happen to himself once again? How many times has that even happened before? 

Your thoughts had carried you away, your vision was blurry again and your ears had blocked away all the sounds. An arm slung around your shoulders and you jolted up at the sudden touch.

“Where have you been bestie? You came rrright at the perfect time. We’re playing spin the bottle” Yangnyang said drowsily, his eyes painted in the same red shade as Donghyuck’s.

“Oh you’re here too, come on, sit down” he said to Jimin and dragged us both to the circle on the floor. He used both his arms and his full force to sit us down next to each other, and then he got up to sit across from us where he was previously sitting.

The girl to your left offered you the blunt but you rejected it without a second thought. Everyone was either stupid high or stupid drunk, some of them were both. You were suffocating. You felt like a total stranger there, even the existence of your own body was making you anxious.

You turned to Jimin on your right. “We need to go home” you mouthed and she kept nodding to herself constantly.

Your eyes roamed around the small circle, trying to find a way to get up and leave. But before you could do that, the chocolate pair of eyes that was now drowned in deep red, locked in with yours. A sense of déjà vu ran through your entire body, shivering under his gaze. This cannot happen again.

Jimin took your hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. She was uncomfortable and so were you. You tried to get up and leave, but the girl next to you dragged you back down.

A guy gulped down an entire bottle of alcohol before he put it down in the middle of the circle. You didn’t even bother to look at what type of alcohol it was.

Yangyang moved in closer to the middle and grabbed the bottle. “Alright, I'll go first!” he shouted and with a swift motion, he spun the bottle fast.

The bottle was spinning at a rapid speed until it came to a stop, its two ends pointing on two people you didn’t know. Apparently, you were the only one who didn’t know them because everyone else was super excited for their kiss. Or at least they were too high to understand what they were doing.

The bottle spun again. And again. And again. You lost count of how many rounds you were in, the same way your eyes were lost in Donghyuck’s. You kept him under your gaze, watching his every move and trying to justify the way he was acting. You had never seen him like this, so out of himself. What happened to the boy you saw a couple hours ago? The boy you knew ever since you were five? It felt as if he had almost lost whatever it was that made him different from the others. Right now, he looked like every other frat boy in that house.

But he didn’t really look at you. In fact, his mind seemed to be roaming around, not really paying attention to any of his surroundings except for when someone would pass him the blunt.

The bottle kept spinning and almost everyone had kissed someone else at this point. Yangyang took his fair share of the game as he kept on kissing a different girl in almost every single round.

Jimin squeezed your hand again and you realized how uncomfortable she might have felt. This time, you wouldn’t let any of the others stop you from leaving. Your friend wasn’t feeling well, but so were you. So you let go of Jimin’s hand and stood up, ready to leave.

As if fate was against you, you heard a burst of cheers and whistles coming from everyone gathered in the room. You regretted not leaving sooner, because the one end of the bottle was pointing at your side. And the other end was pointing at Donghyuck.

Cold sweat ran down your temples and a tight knot appeared in your stomach. This can’t be. You froze there standing still, staring at the bottle on your feet. You lifted your gaze from your feet to meet Donghyuck’s, who was staring back at you with a smug expression painting his face. From the corner of your eye, you could spot Yangyang grinning like a madman, his entire dentition on full display.

As if he did it on purpose, Donghyuck took a long drag of the blunt before standing up too so that his eyes leveled yours. The smugness on his face never left his features, his drowsy red eyes pouring into yours.

He slowly walked towards you, stopping right in front of your standing figure. His face was now way too close to yours. You could smell the alcohol and God knows what else on his breath, the heat of his body radiating to yours.

Donghyuck parted his lips and your breath got caught in your throat. His body somehow got even closer to yours. He tilted his head to the side and leaned against your ear. His hot breath was fanning over your ear, his lips softly grazing your skin. With a voice hoarse and low, he spoke loud enough for you to barely hear him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ve done this before.”

You hadn’t even noticed which end of the bottle was pointing at you, but Donghyuck took the initiative himself and smacked his plump lips onto yours. His touch caught you off guard. You were standing there doing nothing, while Donghyuck placed both of his hands on the sides of your neck, his lips moving aggressively yet smoothly on top of yours.

You waited for him to pull away so that you could leave the party as soon as possible, but his intentions seemed to be different. He bit on your bottom lip in an attempt to part your lips so that you could kiss him back. You hated to admit it to yourself but it definitely worked. You parted your mouth just enough and moved your lips in sync with his smooth plump ones, the taste of alcohol from his lips transfering to yours.

The knot on your stomach kept on tightening more and more with each second passing. Your pulse rate had reached an infinite number of beats per minute and you were sure that your legs would not be able to hold you for much longer.

As if Donghyuck read your mind, he pulled away after leaving a last soft peck on your lips, removing his hands from the sides of your neck. He pulled back smirking at you as you were still standing frozen, your lips still feeling numb and swollen.. 

You had blocked away everyone else that was around you. You couldn’t hear anything of what they were saying. Your brain was still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

With a quick snap back to reality, you grabbed Jimin’s hand and turned your back to everyone else, storming off through the door of the frat house.

The night of the party you slept over at Jimin’s dorm. As soon as you exited the frat house, you went straight to Jimin’s car and you offered to drive since Jimin wasn’t in the right place to drive. She was still feeling unwell after she threw up all the alcohol she had consumed previously the same night, so you wanted to make sure she would be fine. But honestly, you weren’t feeling well either, and it wasn’t because you had drank.

Your mind kept replaying the moment Donghyuck kissed you like a video on loop. You were suddenly fifteen again, playing a silly game of spin the bottle with your friends where you happened to kiss your silly little crush. But now it happened again. And it wasn’t a silly game or a silly crush anymore.

Why was Donghyuck so complicating? All those times you hung out together, you never noticed him having any romantic intentions towards you. Everything he did or said was purely in the terms of friendship. But the way he approached you, touched you and kissed you at the party told you otherwise. Were you that blind not to notice his intentions?

You tried to excuse his behavior, saying that he was high or drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. Which is not necessarily a lie. It wasn’t his fault that he got peer pressured into drinking and behaving like one of the frat boys. He is the complete opposite of a troublemaker and ill-intended person; no wonder people found it so easy to talk him into things. 

Plus, it was only just a game. He sure didn’t think of it as something much of a big deal, so why would you give it so much importance? 

You mentally slapped yourself for thinking like this, because Jimin, who was already fast asleep, would yell at you for excusing Donghyuck’s behavior. He’s not a kid, he’s a grown-up, he knows what he’s doing, she would say. You had to wait until the morning to hear her scolding. The thing is, she wouldn’t be completely wrong about this.

During the thunderstorm of thoughts pouring inside your brain, a bold lightning struck in between. What if you confessed to him? Your heart couldn’t bear hiding what it felt for any longer. At that moment, you didn’t care if it would ruin your relationship with Donghyuck. He has acted recklessly enough quite a few times now, so you were allowed to be reckless for once too. He had to know how you felt, because this is what would make you feel at ease with yourself. He can’t find it so easy to kiss you in a drunk game and not feel anything either. After the spark that lit up with the touch of your lips and the butterflies that danced around the knot in your stomach, you knew you had to tell him. But the problem was that you didn’t know how to do it. 

For the meantime, you had curled up in Jimin’s bed hugging yourself tightly, crying your eyes out until sweet sleep brushed over them and closed them shut.

The morning of the next day you and Jimin went out to grab breakfast together. She was still feeling a bit weird because of last night’s events, but she said that a plate of chocolate chip pancakes would cure her hangover.

You were fiddling with your fork, scraping it at the surface of the plate, a screeching noise coming from it. Jimin visibly shivered at the sound and you stopped it.

“So,” Jimin began, swallowing a big piece of the pancakes, “wanna talk about last night?” she asked.

You put your fork down and sat back, crossing your arms. “I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. Everything is so confusing” you answered.

“Um, that’s exactly why we need to talk about it” Jimin said. She drank a full glass of water and then set it down on the table with a thud. It was so loud, you thought that the table might have broken.

“Donghyuck literally kissed you and we’re gonna completely ignore that? Come on Y/n, we cannot pretend it didn’t happen. Well, at least you cannot pretend it didn’t happen” Jimin said.

“Drop it Jimin, he was drunk, or high, or whatever.”

“No he was not. Well he was, but not that much. He knew what he was doing. Look, Y/n, Donghyuck has been a great friend to you and I know how much you love him for that. But when it comes to the romantic part of your relationship, he’s been nothing but an ass.”

You sighed and didn’t say anything in return. Jimin was right. He really was an ass when it came to romantic relationships. But you couldn’t ignore your feelings. You knew the way you felt when he touched you, when he leaned close to your ear and whispered to you, when his lips danced with yours.

The question is, did he feel the same?

You broke the silence by speaking up. “I think I’m gonna confess to him” you said.

Jimin almost choked on her food. She started coughing and you immediately got up and patted her on her back to prevent any accidents. You filled in her glass with water and helped her drink a bit.

“You what?!” Jimin practically screamed and you were thankful that the restaurant was not full that morning.

“I thought about it last night and I can’t keep suppressing my feelings, But I don’t know how to do it and I still think that Donghyuck might not like me back, hell, he only sees my as a friend, but at the same time I felt it when he kissed me, it felt different than the first time he did it back at that goodbye party before high school and God I hate parties becau-“

“Hey hey hey! Calm down bestie” Jimin interrupted you. You were panting, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t realize you went on an auto-rant mode until after Jimin spoke.

“It’s okay, I know it’s hard to do it. But if you finally feel confident enough to tell him, you should do it. We’ll think of a way to do that, together.” Jimin reassured you and you nodded to yourself.

Speaking of the devil, your phone screen lit up and a ting sound echoed in the room. You picked it up, only to see a text from Donghyuck.

[Hyuck]

see you at the park later?

You sighed again and made a mental note to text him back in a minute when you would have calmed down from your previous outbreak.

You really had to tell him, and you had to do it soon.

Despite your initial denial, you agreed to meet Donghyuck later that day at the park, at your usual spot. You were contemplating whether to meet him or not, because even though you wanted to confess, your anxiety and fear of a bad outcome got the best of you. 

You didn’t mind if you got rejected. You really didn’t care at all. At that moment, you just wanted to get it out of your chest. A few weeks ago, you would be dreading the possibility of Donghyuck rejecting your feelings and ruining your friendship. But right now you had none of that in mind.

You rode your bike on the way to the park in order to clear your mind with some fresh air. The sun had almost set and the park was becoming emptier. You spotted Donghyuck sitting on the ground with his back resting on a tree trunk. He had rode there on his bike too.

You went up to him and he only noticed your presence until after you sat down beside him. He turned his head to your side and he flushed you one of his precious bright smiles, the one that always made your heart skip a bit.

You didn’t want to lie to yourself, but your confidence from earlier magically vanished the moment you saw his face.

“How have you been? It was a mess last night” you spoke first and his smile dropped at the sound of your voice, his plump lips forming a soft frown, eyes falling down to his lap.

“Don’t remind me of that” Donghyuck said. He paused for a second before he spoke again. “I actually wanted to apologize for that. For whatever happened. I clearly didn’t mean anything I did or said, so if I did anything bad or weird, don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know. I promised myself I wouldn’t get carried away, but guess what! I did nothing but that. I’m sorry.”

You waited for him to finish with what he wanted to say before you said anything else. You went closer to him and rubbed his back in sympathy.

It took you a while to take in everything he said. What did he mean by “I didn’t mean anything I said or did”? Did he regret kissing you? Didn’t he feel the same spark, the same tingle, the same knot in his stomach?

You tried to push these thoughts away and focus on your feelings. It was time you put your feelings first, or rather, yourself. Your heart was beating out of your chest, blood rushing into your cheeks, as you gathered all your confidence and courage before you spoke up.

“Donghyuck?” you said in a soft, quiet voice, barely above a whisper. Donghyuck lifted his head, his chocolate eyes diving deep into yours, his skin glimmering under the moonlight like frozen honey.

That’s when your voice got stuck in your throat, and you stood there staring at him and he was staring back at you. “Wanna go on a ride with our bikes? To clear our minds?” you said.

He nodded and his plump lips curved upwards, his eyes creasing a bit on the sides. This is not what you wanted to say, but at least you said something.

You wanted to say so much more. So many things occupied the back of your head, you wanted to scream at him for giving you all these mixed signals, you wanted to scold him for acting so immature, you wanted to hug him and tell him that he’s too good for this world, you wanted to feel his touch and warmth on your body. But you did nothing for it.

You had to think of a way to confess to him without having to say any words. Otherwise, you would fuck up. Or you wouldn’t be able to do it at all, and you would be left with the burden upon your chest.

In the meantime, you were reminded how beautiful you felt every time you were with him. You relaxed, you laughed, you cried, you smiled, you frowned, you were stressed and then you were not. There was only one boy in all the world that could wake up every single emotion inside you and that boy was none other than Lee Donghyuck.

You still quite couldn’t put your finger on what it was that made him so different from the other boys. Maybe the fact that he was just a guy, like everyone else, but he seemed so gorgeous in your eyes. Maybe it was because you knew him in a way no one else did. That’s why you felt the need to share your feelings with him, because no matter what, you somehow knew that he would always love you back, even as just a friend. 

You were still mad at him for acting this way. But you could not completely ignore the person you knew because of one reckless incident. You knew Donghyuck very well, and you knew that he was better than this. You weren’t in the right mood to confront him after seeing how bad he felt with himself, so you chose to put whatever happened at the party towards the back of your head for a while and enjoy your time with him.

There is always the right time for everything.

“Aeri broke up with me” Yangyang announced, with a frown on his face that could reach the floor.

“She did? Yeah, I’m not surprised. You shouldn’t be either” you said.

“But why?” Yangyang whined.

“Are you serious right now?” Jimin spoke up “You literally hook up with every other girl, plus, you never gave her any attention! And you have the audacity to cry about it.”

You were walking on campus, heading towards your respective classes. It had been two days since the frat party, and Yangyang’s girlfriend found out about his doings and she finally snapped.

Donghyuck caught up to you and joined the conversation. “Oof, I found you guys, I was looking for you everywhere. Wait what happened?” he asked as soon as he noticed Yangyang’s frown in his expression.

“Aeri happened” you said.

“Who's Aeri?” Donghyuck asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

Jimin was the one to speak up this time. “Yangyang’s girlfriend. Well, now ex-girlfriend. It took her a bit long to come to her senses but I’m happy she finally did.” She turned to Yangyang and slapped him in the back of his head. “See, you never even mentioned her name, you idiot! You’re gross, honestly” Jimin said with a disgusted expression.

Donghyuck smiled slightly at Jimin’s comment, but none of them saw him but you. Was it just your idea or did he look extra fine today?

Jimin walked to your side and linked her arm with yours. “Now if you will excuse us boys, we have to talk about girl things, mhm?” Jimin said and dragged you away from them, leaving them walking behind you.

“So, I thought of the perfect idea” Jimin whispered, lowering her head.

“About what?” you asked.

“You will make a quiz and send it to him” Jimin said. You stopped at your track to take in what she just said. “What?”

“You want to confess to Donghyuck, right? So I did some research and came across this quiz that you supposedly send to your crush and then they have to respond and send it back to you I guess. What do you think?” Jimin said.

“It sounds childish. Yeah I don’t think it will work” you said.

“But why? Let’s give it a try. Please” Jimin whined and you couldn’t do anything but agree with her. “Okay, listen. I’ll see what I’ll do. If I feel confident enough to send it to him then we’re good, otherwise we’ll have to think of something else” you said.

Jimin screeched and hugged you tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you! Oh my god, I really think it will work. Plus, it’s not gonna be a face to face confession so don’t be nervous about it. You got this. I’ll meet you later after classes to work on it. Love you bestie!” Jimin said and ran off to her class, leaving you walking on your own in the campus.

Maybe her idea wasn’t that bad after all. This couldn’t go too wrong, right?

Later that day you met Jimin at your favorite café. You found her sitting at your usual table, scrolling on her phone.

Yangyang decided to tag along this time too. You bumped into him on your way out of campus and invited him for coffee too. You didn’t tell Jimin about it, but you were sure she wouldn’t mind.

You sat down next to her, and Yangyang went for the seat on the other side of the table, taking out his phone.

“Let’s start, take out your laptop” Jimin said and you did so. You opened an empty form sheet and stared at the cursor appearing and disappearing on the screen. “Well, how do I start?” you asked.

Jimin took the lead and turned the laptop to her side so that she could type on the keyboard easier. “So, we'll start with his name. Write something like, ‘Hi Donghyuck, if you’re receiving this it’s because I have a big fat crush on you and I don’t know how to tell you-‘”

“Shhhh,” you interrupted her “don’t say his name” you whisper shouted.

Yangyang raised his head from his phone screen and joined the conversation. “Don’t worry about it bestie, it’s not as if we don’t know about it. It’s so obvious that you like Hyuck to the point it hurts my eyes every time I see you looking at him. Can’t you be more discreet about it? What the fuck are you two even doing by the way?”

You were left speechless and kept blinking, staring at Yangyang. Of course he would figure it out, he’s been your best friend since you were literally babies. You shouldn’t be surprised by this.

“We’re making a confession quiz to help Y/n tell Donghyuck that she likes him. I saw it online and apparently it works wonders” Jimin said.

Yangyang stayed silent for a few seconds before he started laughing hysterically. You and Jimin looked at each other and then back at Yangyang, waiting for him to stop with his laughing outburst. 

You waited until he finally caught his breath, wiping a tear that slipped from the corner of his eye with his finger. “You guys are seriously so funny” he said.

“What's so funny about it, Yangyang? Hm?” Jimin asked him.

“I just find it such a stupid idea. Don’t you think it’s a bit childish? It won’t work” he said.

“That's what I thought too, but I’m gonna give it a try” you said.

“Okay, whatever” Yangyang said and went back to scrolling on his phone.

“Don’t give him any notice, Y/n. Let’s move on” Jimin said and started typing on the keyboard.

“So, we'll start with questions such as ‘Did you know that I liked you?’ and ‘If yes, then how did you know?’ and then ‘Do you like me back?’ and stuff” Jimin spoke while typing at the same time.

“Wait Jimin, don’t you think these are a bit too straightforward?” you asked. Jimin stopped typing and looked at you dead in the eye. “Are you kidding me? This is how a confession works, hello?” Jimin answered, full of irony. Through the corner of your eye, you saw Yangyang scoffing.

“Okay so next,” Jimin started typing again “you need to ask him the important stuff, which is what he thinks of you. And that includes what his first impression of you was, how attractive he finds you and how much he likes your personality.”

“How about we ask him something like ‘Is this awkward?’ because trust me, it probably is” you were the one who suggested a question this time.

Jimin wasn’t entirely sure if you were joking or not, be she agreed and typed it after the previous one. “Now, let’s end it with a precious moment between the two of you. One that he remembers, it might be anything” Jimin said.

She typed fast, her fingers running on top of the keyboard. Her eyes never left the screen, following the letters without even peaking at the keyboard to see what she was typing. She then pressed the enter key with all her strength and sat back on her chair. “And we’re done. It’s sent” she said.

The moment she said that the quiz was sent, you started trembling. You didn’t feel nervous up until that point. What if everything went downhill after this? It’s just a stupid quiz, you thought. Sure, the quiz was stupid, but your crush wasn’t. You were worried that once Dongyuck sees the quiz, he’ll start seeing you differently. You were only hoping that this differently didn’t mean negative, because if it did, your entire relationship with him would change. And you didn’t want to lose such an important person in your life over a not-so-stupid crush.

You didn’t see Donghyuck on campus the next day. You were sure about it because ever since Jimin sent him the confession quiz, he hasn’t left your mind. You kept looking for him everywhere but not because you wanted to see him. It was rather the opposite. You knew that if you saw his face after knowing that you had confessed to him, you wouldn’t be able to utter a single word. You avoided him.

You had to thank him, though, for making your job easier. Not a single sight of him on campus for the entire day. Good news.

But the bad news was that he didn’t text you throughout the day at all, which was odd. He would usually ask to meet at the park, or just text you about not anything of importance. But there was no sign of him that day.

A lot of thoughts formed in your mind at the same time. In the worst case scenario, there was something wrong with him. In the best case scenario, he felt way too awkward because of the confession quiz and he didn’t want to do anything with you. You couldn’t explain how this was the best case scenario, but you were worried sick about him. So you hoped for the latter.

You didn’t want to text him or call him though. You wanted to avoid him, right? Your current behavior didn’t match the confidence you had a couple days ago. It felt like you were more intimate with him now, you had exposed a piece of your inner self and you were scared that your actions would make him feel uncomfortable.

Yet, you decided to give him time. You wanted to wait for his response. Whatever it would be. You thought that your confession would help you ease your mind, but you’ve been thinking about him even more now. What if he didn’t feel the same? Of course, you would respect his feelings. You can’t force people to like you, or love you. But deep down, you knew it would hurt. You would still continue to love him even if he didn’t love you back. You cannot turn on and off feelings like a light switch. Loving him took a long time and getting over him would take even longer. You didn’t want to get over him. You probably couldn’t. So you wanted to keep loving him and hoped that maybe, there was a slight chance that he would love you back.

However, you didn’t see Donghyuck on campus the day after that either. But this time, you didn’t know if it was because you were avoiding him or because he just didn’t come to any of his classes.

Worry washed over you when neither Yangyang or Jimin had heard of him. “I thought he would be talking with you” Yangyang told you. Yeah, you thought the same thing.

After your classes ended for the day, you decided to go by his dorm and see him in person. You still felt like avoiding him but you didn’t have another choice at this point. You wanted to see him.

You put on your earphones and let the music keep you company while walking. Your heart rate was slowly increasing with each step you took, but you couldn’t explain if it was because you felt anxious or because your heart followed the beat of the music.

After listening to a couple of songs, you found yourself standing right outside Donghyuck’s dorm door. Taking off your earphones, you stood there still, waiting. You raised your arm hesitantly, knuckles touching the wooden surface of the door. You slightly pulled your hand away from the door and then your knuckles touched the door again.

Knock. Knock.

You drew a step back, arm falling to your side. And you waited.

One, two, three, four, five, si-

Donghyuck appeared behind the door, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair messy and eyes droopy.

“Hi, um, sorry d-did I wake you up?” you said.

“Um, no it’s fine, uh, is there something wrong?” Donghyuck said, rubbing his eye with his fingers.

And then you noticed the flush color painting his cheeks and the way he kept his eyes on the ground, not trying to maintain eye contact.

“I was just worried, you know? We haven’t seen you in two days and I just wanted to see if you-“

“I’m fine Y/n, there’s nothing to worry about, now please, I was in the middle of something so, uh, I’ll see you later, bye” Donghyuck interrupted you and closed the door right in your face, without even sparing you a glance.

What was this all about? Why was he acting like this?

You blinked away the tears that were forming in the corners of your eyes and walked away.

“Girl, you’re not the one avoiding him, he’s the one avoiding you!” Jimin said, munching on a cheeseburger. 

She swallowed her bite and spoke again. “What I think is, he’s in love with you too, but he’s an even bigger coward than I thought he was. I believe he got so flustered by the quiz we sent him, but don’t worry, he’ll come to his senses sooner or later.”

You rested your head on your palm and sighed heavily. “I don’t know Jiminie, his behavior is so confusing lately. I kinda regret sending him that quiz”.

“Uh oh, don’t say that again. You confessed and well done for that, so now it’s up to him to decide how the relationship between you two will go. Don’t blame yourself for how a man thinks. You never know what goes on inside those pea sized brains of theirs” Jimin said.

“So you say that he’s ignoring me because he likes me back?” you asked, a question which was addressed more to yourself.

“That's exactly what I’m saying,” Jimin said. “I mean, he couldn’t even look at you and his cheeks were all blushy and stuff? Girl, do we see the same things? Because this clearly shows he has lost his shit over you.”

You remained silent for a while, leaving Jimin to eat her cheeseburger in peace and allowing yourself to sort all of your thoughts that were scrambled inside your mind. Maybe she was right. Again. Her intuition regarding people’s feelings and behaviors is remarkable. She always left you wondering how she could be so good at reading other people.

You thought you were good at it too, until this boy named Lee Donghyuck came into your life. It wasn't that hard to understand him as a little boy, but now that you’re all adults, it seems like he has built walls around his heart and it’s not easy to read him anymore. The problem was that you didn’t know why he did this. He used to allow himself to be open and vulnerable with you. At least you thought so.

Now you are left wondering what’s in his mind and what is it that makes him act this way. Was the quiz that awkward? Did he see you in a different way now?

Questions like this kept messing with you and you wished you could unsend that quiz if it were to prevent this outcome. But you decided to give him a little bit more time. You were friends after all, right? Friends always come back to each other, no matter what. Right?

The next couple of days Donghyuck had been ignoring you still. Jimin said there was no point in feeling sad about it and that he would just snap one moment and realize what an asshole he was.

You hadn’t told Yangyang about any of that. He had mentioned the quiz once, asking you something like how you made it and what you wrote exactly, but nothing more specific about Donghyuck. So you decided to let it go, he wouldn’t understand anyway.

You were sitting at the park alone, leaning against a tree while watching the sun slowly hiding behind the hill, waiting for the moon to rise and take its place in the sky. The cheerful screams of little kids were gradually fading away and the park was becoming quieter, the only sound interrupting the silence from time to time was the barking of dogs.

You felt peaceful. You found a moment in time to have for yourself, a small escape from all of last week’s dramatic events. You breathed in the fresh air, you let your body relax and your mind roam around the scenery of nature in front of you.

This inner serenity didn’t last long though. Your phone chimed in your pocket and the screen lit up, the intense brightness hurting your eyes due to the contrast with the now darker sky.

You lowered the brightness in order to take a better look at the text on your screen. You squinted your eyes a bit further, this time not because of the brightness.

[Hyuck]

i really need to talk to you

it’s important

you know where to find me

i’m at your favorite place

You kept rereading Donghyuck’s texts over and over. So he ignores me for days and now all of a sudden he wants us to meet and he puzzles me with a riddle? What the hell?

You turned off your phone and stared blankly in front of you, trying to think of what place Donghyuck was talking about. You didn’t even care about what he wanted to tell you. You had to find him first.

The gears inside your brain got to work, spinning quickly and digging through your memories to help you find the answer. But you were already in your favorite place. The park. At least it was your favorite at the moment. So if he were at the park, where could he be? You would be able to see him by now.

The gears in your brain suddenly stopped moving and the light bulb shone brightly above your head. You knew exactly where he was. And it wasn’t the park. You grabbed your things quickly and rushed out of the park, heading towards the place you could never imagine that you’ll ever see again.

You had been walking for only ten minutes and your legs were hurting and started feeling wobbly. The one time you actually needed your bike, you didn’t have it. A sigh left your lips and you continued walking, looking at your phone from time to time in case Donghyuck texted you something else or called you.

You could tell that you were almost there by the red and gold lighting attacking your eyes, contrasting with the darkness of your surroundings. You squinted your eyes as a reaction to the sudden appearance of light, walking towards the source of red and gold. The smell of butter popcorn lured you in and that’s how you knew you were at the exact place you needed to be.

You stood under the bright sign, the same white balloons climbing up the pillars on each side of the gate, confetti sprinkled and glued in between them, fairy lights trailing upwards to the glowing sign. ‘Welcome to Dreamland’.

You stood in awe. You never thought you would visit this place again. It's been years since the last time you visited the amusement park and it felt strange yet so familiar sitting there, looking at the place that felt like your childhood home.

Your eyes were roaming around and you just stood still, not moving a single step further. For a moment, you had forgotten the reason why you were there in the first place.

The scent of the familiar cologne was roaming in the air, snapping you out of your thoughts. Donghyuck cleared his throat and you turned around to face him.

He looked beautiful. The lights of the amusement park were reflecting in his eyes, his hair fell softly covering his forehead, his plump lips curved upwards to a smile.

You noticed that he held his arms behind his back, but you didn’t question it. You just stared right into his eyes, just like he stared into yours. “Hi” he said, his voice blurred among the music and random screams from little kids running around the amusement park.

“Hi” you greeted him back, and then both of you remained silent, looking at each other. Your eyes started stinging from keeping them open for a long time, so you lowered your gaze to your feet.

Donghyuck sensed the awkwardness and cleared his throat again before he spoke up. “I’m sorry, Y/n” he said.

Your head jolted up at the sound of his honey voice and your gaze locked in with his. You parted your lips to speak, but he beat you to it. “I’m sorry. I know my behavior was shit. I was an asshole. I was ignoring you when I shouldn’t. I’m surprised that you came to see me after the way I treated you. So thank you" he said.

You didn’t want to speak. You didn’t have the courage to do so, but you also didn’t know what to tell him. Instead, you waited for him to continue talking.

Donghyuck’s gaze shifted from your eyes to other places around him and he pursed his lips. “You know, I received that quiz you sent me” he trailed off.

You gulped at the mention of the quiz and suddenly your heartbeat picked up a pace so fast that was probably beyond human.

“I didn’t-” Donghyuck started, “I didn’t send it back to you because I wanted to answer it now, with you here” he said.

You found yourself incapable of speaking at that moment. You simply nodded and diverted your gaze back to your feet.

“Please look at me Y/n” Donghyuck said and you froze, slowly lifting your head to see him looking directly at you. You could tell he was nervous by the way he inhaled sharply and the soft red color that painted his cheeks.

“I didn’t know you felt this way about me,” he started, “so when I saw that quiz I was so troubled. Maybe you were obvious with it, maybe not, but what’s certain is that I was too nervous around you to even notice anything.”

You tried to process his words and come to a conclusion. Everything that came out of his mouth didn’t make sense to you. Why would he be nervous around me?

Donghyuck gulped and continued. “Do you remember how we met?” he asked, but the question was mostly addressed to himself rather than you. You smiled at the memory. How could you forget such a pretty boy?

“It was here, this exact place. We were both running, we bumped into each other, fell down and then dropped your cotton candy” he said and started laughing. You did the same.

“And then we became friends. Inseparable friends. You have always been the sweetest friend I’ve ever had. You are kind, funny, you make me feel comfortable, you’re always there for me even though I behave so shitty sometimes” he said.

“And you’re so beautiful. I find myself staring at you when you’re looking away and I just ask myself how can a person be this beautiful” he said, his voice getting gradually quieter, just a little bit louder than a whisper.

“Do you know why I stopped contacting you when I left?” Donghyuck asked, this time the question addressed to you.

You cleared your throat before speaking, voice barely audible. “No.” It was the first time you spoke after greeting him.

Donghyuck shifted a bit, balancing his weight on one leg. “Because I liked you so much I couldn’t bear talking to you, knowing that I wasn’t able to see you, touch you and tell you how much I missed you” he said. “I thought that maybe, if I didn’t talk to you again, maybe it would hurt less than it did.”

You felt your lips drying, eyes widening upon hearing these words. This can’t be real. Yes, you wanted him to like you back, but you never expected it to be true. Even if you believed in a slight chance that he might like you back, it never occurred to you that it might actually be true.

“Hyuck, what are you talking about?” you asked him, not believing a single word he was saying.

“I’m talking about how much I like you, Y/n. Fuck, I might even be in love with you. I don’t know, I always get this weird feeling around you and I can’t get it to stop! I keep thinking about you and how I want to be able to kiss you without finding excuses with these stupid spin the bottle games! I like you so fucking much Y/n, I don’t know how to act.”

You stood still, frozen. So this is really happening, you thought. All this time you were worried about your feelings for Donghyuck when he was feeling the exact same way towards you. Your heart fluttered to the sound of his confession and you felt like smiling so hard until your cheeks hurt.

“Please say something Y/n” Donghyuck whispered. You didn’t say anything though. You didn’t have to. Instead, you took a couple steps further and stood right in front of him, placing your hands on each side of his neck, smacking your lips onto his.

He responded immediately, parting his lips slightly to kiss you back. He removed one arm from behind his back to cup your cheek with his hand and he kissed you gently and genuinely.

The knot in your stomach was untied, releasing the butterflies it had been holding in for so long. Donghyuck’s plump lips moved in sync with yours, his soft touch on your cheek sending streaks of warmth down your entire body.

You slowly pulled back to catch your breath, looking at him in his eyes, both of you smiling as hard as ever. “Of course I like you too, dumbass. I’ve liked you ever since I met you.” You said and Donghyuck smiled even harder than before, if it was even possible.

You removed your hands from his neck, dropping them to your side. “What is behind your back?” you asked him eagerly.

Donghyuck dropped his hand from your cheek too and brought his other arm from behind his back, only to reveal a stick of fluffy pink cotton candy.

Your eyes widened at the sight. It was the last thing you expected to see.

“You know, I promised to buy you one because I had dropped it when we bumped into each other, but I never had the chance to do that, so...” Dongyuck said and you slammed your body into his arms, grinning hard and laughing.

You squeezed him tightly and he returned your embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist, his head finding its way to rest in the crook of your neck.

“I think I love you, Donghyuck” you softly said in his ear.

Donghyuck’s grip on you tightened more and he breathed in. “Y/n, I know I love you” he said, just loud enough so that you and only you could hear him.

Donghyuck pulled back slightly so that he could see your face. He was still holding you tightly, as if he physically couldn’t let you go. As you were lost in the pool of honey in his eyes, he spoke with a low voice. “Do you think you’ll finally be able to beat me in bumper cars?” he said.

You laughed at his question and his smile grew wider to the sound. “No, you’re too slow. I actually pity you” you said.

Donghyuck poked the inside on his cheek with his tongue and raised his eyebrow at your answer. “Oh yeah? Let’s find out, bitchass” he said and linked his fingers with yours to guide you to the amusement park.

Just like that, your heart was full. It was right at the place it needed to be from the very beginning. It was finally home.

The doorbell chimed behind you and a chill breeze entered the inside of the diner for a brief second. You didn’t have to turn your head to realize that a group of high school kids entered the diner, their voices were too loud and annoying. You rolled your eyes and popped a french fry into your mouth.

It’s been about two weeks since you and Donghyuck made it official. You agreed to start a relationship that very night you confessed to each other outside the amusement park. Donghyuck only agreed to go out with you if he won three consecutive races at the bumper cars ride. Turns out you ended up crashing his car in every single round, but Donghyuck kept on saying that he didn’t really mean what he said and kissed you into agreeing to go on another date with him.

You were happy. Ever since you started dating, you found yourself enjoying the time you spent with Donghyuck even more than you did before. It’s not that many things changed, it was mostly the same things you used to do. The only difference was that neither of you was afraid to express their true feelings anymore.

You and Donghyuck were sitting next to each other at the diner booth. Donghyuck had his arm wrapped around your shoulder, while he used his other arm to grab french fries from the bowl on your table. You agreed to buy just one bowl of french fries to ease your appetite before you ordered your actual meals.

Donghyuck was talking to you about the drive-in cinema that will start working again next week. He said that they would be playing one of his favorite movies, so he practically begged you to go with him and treat it as a date as well.

“What are you guys talking about?” you heard Jimin’s voice and you looked up to see that she had just arrived with Yangyang standing there next to her. 

“Oh hey guys, we didn’t hear you entering. I was telling Y/n about the drive-in, it’ll be open again next week. Wanna go-wait-” Donghyuck started saying, but he cut himself off when he noticed that Yangyang was holding Jimin’s hand.

“Dude what?” Donghyuck asked again and you sat there staring at your friends with eyes wide open. Jimin and Yangyang were grinning at your and Donghyuck’s reactions, before they went to sit on the booth opposite of yours.

“Yup, it is exactly what you think it is. Now, what were you saying about the drive-in?” Yangyang casually joined in the conversation without addressing the matter that clearly needed to be addressed.

“Jimin, why didn’t you tell me about this? How long have you guys been going out?” you said smiling at your friends.

“Not that long, just a few days after you guys. See, I was going to tell you about it Y/n, but Yangyang thought it would be funnier if we just showed up one random day like this and let you guys figure it out on your own” Jimin said and Yangyang kissed her forehead before wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah, turns out that stupid quiz you girls thought of works wonders” Yangyang said and popped one french fry that he stole from the bowl.

“Wait, Yangyang, you were the one to send Jimin the quiz? Oh how the tables turn” you said and he waved you off.

You weren’t even the slightest bit surprised that Yangyang and Jimin were dating now. Honestly, it was quite obvious that there was something going on between them, but both of them were way too stubborn to admit it. Was it that way with you and Donghyuck too?

The four of you spent time at the diner that night. The feeling of being carefree and relaxed around your friends reminded you of the time you used to spend all together back in high school. It really felt as if you never lost touch with one another, everything was back to normal. Except this time, your heart felt at ease too.

It was getting quite late and the diner was almost empty now. The four of you didn’t really have the heart to check the time and make a move to get up and leave, you were having way too much time to just call it a night.

You had now ordered a second round of drinks, non-alcoholic though because none of you was really that good at staying sober. Instead, you just stuck with fizzy drinks and sodas.

Yangyang emptied out his second bottle of coke before he slammed it on the table. He licked his lips and sighed. “Wow, this was a good one” he said. But this wasn’t the only thing he had in mind. You could tell by the smugness of his expression.

Yangyang smirked and then lifted his head to flash one of his signature wide grins. “I don’t wanna go home yet, guys. So, who’s up for a game of spin the bottle?” he asked.

Jimin kicked his leg under the table, Donghyuck sat up and smacked him in the head and you stretched your arm to pinch his nose. The four of you burst out laughing, thinking about how things would have turned out if it wasn’t for Yangyang’s stupid ideas.

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