haechan knows you're special the moment he sees you. spread out on your colorful quilt, you bite into a strawberry with a content expression. you've got an assortment of snacks and a handful of colored pencils; from where he stands, he can make out what you've doodled—a yellow bear with a jar of honey.
even amongst the blossom-covered trees, the kids who run across the grass, the sparkling river, he can't take his eyes off you. maybe it's the afternoon's unexpected warmth that gets to him. maybe it's a moment of insanity; he finds himself walking towards you without any idea of what to say when he gets there.
haechan approaches you like it's second nature. he holds up a hand to shield himself from the glaring sun, peering down at your unaware form. you're busy sifting around your container of fruit when he suddenly clears his throat. your eyes find his in an instant. his mouth parts in unexpected panic; talking always came easy to him. why was he suddenly so shy?
"uh," he instinctively scratches the back of his neck before smoothing down the long strands of hair. "those strawberries look good." it's the best he can come up with in the moment. "where'd you get them?"
you blink. "oh. i got them at the market over there." you turn, finger pointing to the little outdoor stand across the street.
"cool. thanks." he nods. he's crossing his arms now, shifting into another awkward pose as he quickly ponders his next move. the gentle breeze is rustling your hair, your skin dewy and glowing beneath the sunlight. haechan tries not to melt at the sight.
"would you like to try one?" you ask with a small smile. "i think I bought too many." the sound of you giggling is like music to his ears.
haechan knows you're special when you look up at him during your second encounter, unknowing to the leftover ice cream on your face. he can't help but chuckle and is quick to offer a tissue, which you take gratefully.
“no, a little to the left.” he shakes his head when you continue to miss. “my left. can i—can i help?” he asks hopefully, brown eyes gentle and adoring awaiting your response.
when you give him the go ahead, his palm cups the back of your hand, slowly guiding your fingers to the spot where the cream sits. “did i get it?” you look to him for confirmation.
he hums. you sit at an outdoor table; the chair is warm against your bare skin. haechan inhales the sweet scent of spring, the air filled with fragrant flowers. he sips on his strawberry milkshake absentmindedly. he'd promised to treat you after eating nearly half your container of fruit, which worked out to be the perfect excuse to see you again.
“this is really good.” you take another bite of matcha. “how's yours?” you look over at him, spoon disappearing beneath your lips.
he blinks. “oh. it's pretty good.” he sits up a little, your question shaking him out of his daze. a trickle of sweat drips down the side of his neck; it's another unusually warm spring day.
“you must really like strawberry.”
“I guess i do.”
haechan knows your special when you don't get upset with him for showing affection. you don't shove him away like the others—on the contrary, you welcome his advances. like when he puts his arm around your shoulder walking down a busy street, or how he sometimes cuddles up against your back standing in line. you just happily smile
it's quite often that he invites you over for movie night or board games at his apartment, and haechan inevitably ends up touching you—his legs draped over yours, head in your lap, hand brushing back your hair. it's no surprise when you let him.
tonight you're in matching pajama sets—teddy bears, his choice—sipping on your favorite warm drinks. it's a rare occurrence for his roommates to be out, so for the first time, it's just the two of you. renjun had hung up fairy lights back when they first moved in; with the overhead lights turned off, they give the room a magical feeling.
“i’m glad you invited me,” you say suddenly. haechan, once focused on the tv, glances at you. “my day wasn't very good…” you sigh while looking into your now empty mug.
he turns fully toward you. there's so many things he wants to say, his mouth already parting in preparation. but he doesn't. for once, he remains quiet, instead giving your knee a gentle squeeze. sometimes it's enough just to be in each other's company.
“these pajamas are really cute.” you laugh at the little bears staring back at you on your sleeve. maybe you want to tell him more. like how sweet he looks sitting next to you. but you don't have the courage to, so you don't.
you know haechan's special when he carries you to his bed the first night you sleepover. it wasn't intentional, but after three movies, you're passed out the couch. he could have woken you up, or left you where you were, but instead he makes the long journey to his room just so you'll have a decent sleep.
you don't realize til you wake up in the morning covered in a soft blanket, haechan nowhere to be found. you've never been in his room before. the thought makes you giddy inside—so much so that you don't even see jaemin standing in the kitchen, hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup as you pass by.
you find haechan spread out across the couch, clutching a pillow to his chest. his cheeks are dusted pink from sleep and hair covering his forehead. you quietly creep forward, crouching down in front of his peaceful figure before reaching out a hesitant hand. your fingers nearly shake as you brush away the hair.
“that feels good,” he barely croaks out. you jolt at the sound. when your movements pause, he lets out a whine in protest. “just a little more. please?” you can see he's pouting now, eyes still closed.
“h—how’d you know it was me?” you ask breathlessly. you honor his request, continuing to stroke his dark hair.
he snorts. “who else would it be?” at this he steals a peak, one almond eye opening to find you leaning over the couch. your face is exceptionally close; he nearly gasps. “no one else would touch me this nicely,” he says after a minute. only you, haechan thinks.
you know haechan's special every time he takes you out to a new restaurant, when he always stocks up on your favorite snacks or makes you soup to take back home just because. he likes taking care of you. and you like spending time with him. which is why you can’t stay away from one another no matter how hard you try.
“see you,” he mumbles. it’s a friday night and haechan isn't even trying to hide the disappointment he feels while dropping you off. he knows it’s selfish to ask you to stay—to spend all your free time with him when you’re not even really dating—but that doesn’t mean he can’t pout a little.
you’re quick to notice his face fall before he turns to head back down the sidewalk. he’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and a bucket hat covering his hair. you’d already spent the day together and yet you didn’t feel like ending it. which is why haechan doesn’t take more than a few steps before you call out his name.
he peers back, brown eyes hopeful as he awaits your next words. “come inside for a bit?” you ask. “if you’re not too tired, i mean. it’s okay if—” haechan’s striding over to you before you can finish your sentence, grabbing your cheeks and tugging your lips onto his.
he kisses you softly, fingers stroking your skin while he hesitantly tests out the waters. his heart soars when you don’t pull away.
“i was hoping you'd ask,” he mutters, mouth still brushing against yours, breath warming his skin before going back in for another.
with the summer air whisking in from the open window and fluttering the curtains with a heated wind, it starts to become tiresome to feel warm breath fanning down your neck every time the boy next to you exhales. and much to your dismay, his attention is too wrapped up in the film playing in front of him to worry about- or even notice- the uncomfortable temperature of his cuddles. you wiggle a bit in an attempt to take at least some of your personal space back, but when the arms around your waist only squeeze you back in, you know it was all in vain.
jaemin shifts when the credits finally begin to scroll, and a hot, heavy sigh rushes into your hair, his mind now solely on you and the feeling of your body against his; his warm lips dance against the skin of your neck and leave ticklish open mouthed kisses in their wake. the humidity seems to bother him none. you have to let out a whine. “jaem, it’s hot.”
“yeah you are,” he hums, snuggling further into you, sucking a spot into the skin under your jaw. the smirk you feel on his lips lets you know he’s annoying you on purpose. you grumble, prying your boyfriends body away from your overheating one. he finally pulls away, reluctantly.
“you’re so clingy sometimes,” you huff, fanning yourself with your hand.
jaemin sits up straight, shock prominent in his sparkling brown eyes as he looks at you. “me? i’m the clingy one?” he gawks. you roll your eyes at him. he watches as you reach for your drink on the bedside table, swirling the ice around.
“don’t act surprised, jaem, you’re the clingiest boy on earth,” the exaggerated scoff that jaemin let’s out paired with the grumpy cross of his arms makes you giggle into your straw.
“i’m sorry, i seem to remember how someone wouldn’t go to bed last night unless i was there to use as a body pillow,” the boy retorts. “oh wait, actually,” he brings his hand up to his chin in fake thought, and pauses for a moment. “no, yeah that’s every night.”
you narrow your eyes. “is that really the game you wanna play? jeno and renjun don’t even let us sit together when we go out because you never let go of me.”
“they’re just sad and jealous,” he waves the statement away like nothing. “let’s not forget that you called me like a hundred times last week when hyuck needed help house sitting.”
“the cat missed you!”
“please, the cat barely even knows i live here!”
jaemin shrieks as you lunge toward him, pushing him backwards onto the bed and trapping him beneath you.
“our cat loves you and you know it.”
jaemin’s eyes are wide for a moment as he adjusts to what just happened. he feels his wrists pinned beneath your hands and your thighs holding his hips in place. his hair hangs in his face, and he shakes his head to whip it away and see the smug look on your own face hovering above him.
“what now, huh?” you provoke.
jaemin grins up at you. “aren’t you just the cutest.”
“don’t patronize me.”
but when you feel the muscles in his arms move under your fingers and see the smirk that’s making it’s way onto his pink lips-
“don’t you dare.”
the mischievous glint in his eyes-
“na jaemin. don’t do it.”
in an instant he’s on his feet, and he’s got you in the air, draped over his shoulder with his arms wrapped tightly around your legs that dangle in front of him. you yelp, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt in your fists.
“jaemin! put me do-”
before you finish he’s already spinning, and the colors and shapes in the bedroom bleed together in a dizzy blur. you whine loudly as the force makes your mind whirl, and you squeeze your eyes shut, tucking your head between his shoulder blades.
thankfully, he has enough courtesy to stop before you become too dazed, but his words still seem jumbled when he speaks again.
“who’s clingy now?” he mocks your tone from before, referring to your form firmly hanging onto the snarky boy. you only grumble. you wiggle your legs in his grasp to be let down.
he chuckles, grabbing your waist and bowing his body forward to let you fall backwards onto the bed, only you forget to let him free from your fists, and he falls with you, catching himself by planting his hands on either side of you before he knocks the wind out of you.
“geez, i know i’m handsome but you can’t even let go?” he quips. you squint at him and his stupid cheesy grin that’s still spinning in your dizzy eyes. “how about a kiss to make it better?” he asks sweetly, leaning down toward you, pursing his lips and making sloppy kissy noises.
“oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you push his face away, and he flops down on the mattress next to you. “you can’t go an hour without a kiss.”
jaemin gasps. “can too! i bet i can make it the whole night!”
you scoff. “please, i bet i can make you kiss me right now.”
“yeah? try me.”
jaemin crosses his arms, but the second that he sees your lips up in a little pout, your eyes shimmering- how did you make them do that so quickly? god, he made a mistake.
“nana,” you coo, reaching out for his hand to play with his fingers. his heart swells.
“noooo that’s not fair!!” he moans. with one word you already know you’ve won.
“what’s not fair?” you tilt your head. in his brain jaemin knows what’s happening, but his heart explodes. he tries to get up and leave, but you pull him back down on top of you again, trapping him against you with your arms around his neck. he gulps.
“nana, kiss me?” he bites his tongue. but when he feels your fingers dance up the back of his neck to pull at his hair, a small ‘please’ escaping your pouty lips, he completely folds.
jaemin dips down to capture your lips in his, soft and sweet. you smile against him triumphantly, tugging him closer and deepening your winning kiss.
when you pull away, you find a pout of his own on his lips, his cheeks a deep red. you smile at him, pressing a small kiss to his nose.
“i hate you,” he says, but his lovestruck eyes betray his words.
all I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you ft. lee mark !
𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ genre ; non-idol!mark × fem reader. fluff, pure unadulterated fluff. established relationship au. use of pet names (for her: baby, pretty girl / for him: lovie). just a short drabble to get used to posting on tumblr. ugh this turned tooth-rottingly sweet.
𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ word count ; 1.4k (this was supposed to be shorter but well, i got carried away haha)
𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ warning(s) ; none that i see ^^
𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ notes ; divider by @mewryn (it's so pretty oml)
laughter. the sound of laughter had to be your favorite music that drifted leisurely throughout the apartment.
be it hushed chuckles over a movie or a funny tiktok your boyfriend sent over to you, the rambunctious cackling that tailed your group of friends when they'd indulged a little too much in drinks after dinners that often than not happened in the home you shared with mark–you cherished them all the very same.
before you moved into the flat on the tenth floor, the highest any residential building went in the street equidistant to both of your workplaces, you had some doubts. mostly concerning how eerily quiet it tended to get even with the faint honks of traffic in the heart of seoul.
you could owe it to your upbringing in the city, never once truly alone despite how easily it was slipping into a faraway headspace. you still did that sometimes but after meeting mark, the use of your headphones that'd found purchase against your ears got lesser and lesser. until you could go days just listening to his little tangents.
of course, it was more because of the fact that you adored how his whole face brightened as he shared with you something, anything he held dear. the way his soft brown eyes twinkled as he animatedly explained his point made you lose all sense of reality.
once in sophmore year of college, he had stopped for half a minute and then chuckled at you staring at him in awe. it had taken him waving his hand before you and a "hello, earth to _______? do i have something on my face?" for you to realize your embarrassing predicament.
only mark didn't seem to find it odd. no, on the contrary he found the gesture endearing. he had that tendency to ramble, everyone told him as much. but for you to listen to every word and hang onto it infused a swell in his heart, a giddy feeling he honestly did not want to suppress.
with mark, everything came in it's most simple form. relationships were not supposed to be easy, each one had it's own complications as did yours. but with him you knew you would always try to work through every rough patch because your boyfriend was willing just as much.
you had put an official label on your relationship in junior year, and not being strangers to the amount of teasing that would ensue from your rather large circle of friends, you had decided to keep it lowkey, letting them find out on their own and ease into it.
but with your streak of not keeping your hands–or lips for that matter—off each other, it took them two weeks flat to figure it out. but that's on johnny and his inability to knock on doors as he strutted into mark's dorm as if it was his own, oblivious to you both tangled in each other's arms on the small sofa pushed against the wall beside the balcony.
to your surprise, no noticeably grand change came with the reveal. in johnny's words, you and mark had always been sort of touchy with each other even as friends. he told you to keep the make-outs to a minimum and nobody else would know for sure.
after graduation, mark had mustered up the courage to ask you to move in with him. he had put a lot of thought into it—scoured for decently sized apartments, looked for help from his older friends and even went as far as to ask your parents for their opinion.
of course, the one answer that mattered was yours but even the fact that he asked your parents made you feel elated. and it definitely earned him their seal of approval.
the hesitant question had followed a meal of chinese takeout for dinner as you leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the movie playing in the living room of his childhood home, an arm wrapped around his waist. you had noticed his skittishness all night and it all came to a head as he played with the ends of your hair.
"i was thinking", mark started, taking your hum as approval to continue while you lowered the volume of the tv. "and seriously you can take as much time to think or even say no, i won't force you."
this time you turned to face him fully, a frown creeping up to your face. "what is it, markie? is something wrong?"
"i– well..." he took a sharp breath, eyes never once meeting your own. "i was thinking maybe you can move in with me?"
the silence that followed only plummeted his heart further down his stomach. mark moved an inch away from you, grabbing the remote from your grasp while shaking his head. "never mind. it's way too soon to think of that stuff, right? that's was a sudden, stupid ques—"
"don't say that. nothing you said is stupid." regaining your voice, you shifted closer to him, your grip sliding up his arm and towards nape as you rubbed the area. his shoulders slouched visibly, irrate heartbeat slowing just a little.
you smiled up at him, deft fingers smoothing across his across his brow and finally resting against his cheeks. it took a little tug for him to finally face you, mouth opening and closing as he wracked his brain for the appropriate words to find him when you spoke again.
"i would love to move in with you, mark."
as much as you loved mark when he's talking, sometimes you took great pleasure in rendering him speechless.
as quick as lightning he held your wrists with widened eyes, stopping the advances of your hands down his perfectly sculpted face. you brushed his knee softly as his adam's apple bobbed with a dry gulp.
mark found it hard to even formulate a thought, let alone speak. just when he'd started believing all of this was a bad idea, horrendous really, your admission nearly made his brain short-circuit.
"woah, wait— no. what?" he stumbled over the words eliciting a giggle out of you. "run that by me again, baby. i don't think i heard you correctly."
swatting his shoulder playfully, you took liberty to throw a leg over his, straddling his lap. "you heard me just right the first time, lovie. i think we should do it, move in together. i mean, we have somewhat stable jobs and it would stop us from inconveniencing your parents or mine. honestly, i love your mother but i got goosebumps when she winked at me on the way out."
mark managed a chuckle, rubbing up and down the sides on your legs on either side of him. this had been your arrangement after college. date nights in either of your houses meant the parents always had to leave unless they wanted to walk in on their not-so-little-anymore kids doing anything reserved for behind closed doors.
suddenly, you found yourself being pulled forwards into his chest as his ecstasy evolved into child-like laughter–carefree and unbound. his arms tightened around your form as you succumbed to your own joy.
mark whispered against your hair between pressing kisses to the crown of your head, "i love you, you know that?"
you peeked up at him, cheeks starting to hurt from the wide smile that nothing in the world could dampen. "do you?"
"mhmm. and now that we will live together, i'll remind you everyday, pretty girl. over and over."
sometimes, it scared you how dependent you had gotten on this one single person. finding your chest surging with pride in his every minute success, just as it ached when he hurted.
mark looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. then again, you were sure you'd visit every length to do just that if he so much as asked.
and that night had brought you to this one, sitting against the armrest of the loveseat surrounded by your friends, legs thrown over your boyfriend's as he held you close. you knew he would never let you fall but every fiber in your being appreciated the closeness regardless.
you smiled at haechan's dramatic recounting of some incident in the pub last night, finding comfort in the fingers thrumming to an unknown beat against your hips.
as your eyes wandered to every occupant of the cozy living room of your apartment—yours and mark's—you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars for this chance.
because until you have this little life, this warm, lived-in home, your friends, family and most importantly him by your side, nothing could make you a stranger to the sense of contentment.
featuring: film director!jeno x artist!reader (no gendered terms), jaemin, chenle and jisung cameos
summary — jeno doesn't speak of his affection in words. instead, he teaches you that the letter "L", in his love language of flowers, is for lavender lozenges, lily of the valleys, lockets and love.
author's note: damn the stars rlly aligned for me to post this one... originally was just gonna let it rot in my drafts but here i am posting it for @strxbrymochi 's bday. happy belated bday ki !! muah ily
You should have been prepared for Jeno to be constantly busy when you started dating him four months ago. But it still comes as a shock to you when Jeno sits you down on a Saturday afternoon, a plate of violet cookies placed in front of you.
"I'm sorry," he begins. The moment the words escape his lips, you know what this is all about. Even so, you keep quiet, allowing him to continue with the apology he's prepared.
"I've been signed on to do a short film, and they want us to do the shooting overseas."
Although you knew it was coming, it still comes as a punch to your gut. Being away from Jeno is hard for you, and you don’t want to let him go.
"Where to?" you ask, the words coming out before you can stop them. It's too late now to tell him to stay, and you curse your brain for being two steps behind your stupid, ever-running mouth.
"London. It's a Victorian era film, they said, about flowers."
You permit yourself a small smile. "You love flowers."
Jeno looks down, nodding once. "Yep."
You reach over, tilting his chin up. "Look at me."
He does, eyes quivering anxiously while he waits for you to speak. You’re always the one talking—rambling—and now that you’re silent, it must scare him. You touch your forehead to his, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief.
"Don't be sorry. Go, and enjoy yourself. Pour your soul into it. I'll wait for you to come back, okay? Don't forget me when you're busy working with everyone else."
Jeno lifts up his hand, and you press your palm against his, fingers interlocking with his. "Won't forget you," Jeno mumbles. "I couldn't ever forget you."
You grin, kissing his nose. "I know you wouldn't, silly boy."
—
As Jeno wheels his luggage over the smooth airport floor, he turns to look over at you, shuffling your feet and staring at the ground. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "Blue salvia."
Think of me. It's one of the first flowers that Jeno gave you before you started dating, a secret confession you only learnt about when he finally told you what it meant. Now, it serves as encouragement for you, something to accompany you when Jeno can't.
You smile at him, eyes wide and pensive. "Have a safe flight."
Jeno wraps you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. He doesn't know when he'll get to see you again, and he's not sure if he can survive these months without you. But for both of your sakes, he'll try.
"See you later, alligator."
"In a while, crocodile," you reply, the familiar words a promise between the two of you to weather this storm together.
—
Jeno sits in his seat, flipping his phone in his hand as he waits impatiently for the plane to take off. He tries his best not to look at the time, trying not to count down the seconds in his mind, trying not to keep track of how long it's been since he last saw your face.
An announcement starts to play, asking all passengers on the flight to turn their attention to the flight attendants as they begin the safety briefing. Jeno looks at the flight attendant, but doesn't process the words he's hearing, his mind too focused on the thought of you.
He slips his hand into his pocket, his fingers finding purchase. The plastic crinkles in his palm as he draws the object out, realising that it's a sweet. You told him once that you always have to bring sweets when you’re flying, to suck on in order to prevent your ears from getting blocked.
Jeno has packed the mints you asked him to, but they're in his bag. He swiped the lavender lozenges from your stash that morning, a keepsake to remember you by on the trip. As the pilot announces that the plane is taking off, Jeno pops the sweet into his mouth, the taste of sugar and lavender dissolving on his tongue.
He misses you.
—
Jeno is rudely awakened from his sleep by Jaemin shaking his shoulder. "Good morning," the elder says in a singsong voice, and Jeno's eyes spring open. He casts Jaemin a dirty look, but the latter just grins back at him.
Jeno sighs irritably, getting to his feet and hauling himself out of the bed. His heart's not in it—not in this trip, and maybe not even in the film—and Jaemin knows it.
However, it's not like either of them has a choice. Jaemin liked the script for this film, and Jeno did too. He had plenty of ideas for the film. Despite it being a small project, Jeno believes it can turn out much better than people are expecting it to.
The only issue is that it's not in Korea. It's far away from you, and Jeno needs you in more ways than one. You are his source of comfort and his pillar of strength, but most importantly, you are his muse. Without you, he finds himself unable to function, not knowing which step to take next. Because all he wants to do is find the path that leads back to you, even if it's the worst or stupidest decision he could possibly make.
Longing gnaws at him every day, carving a giant you-sized hole in his chest. He snatches his copy of the script off the table, and Jaemin takes a sweeping glance over the room.
"You've surprisingly tidy for someone who looks like he has zero motivation to keep things organised."
"That's because all of my shit is in my suitcase, so I'm prepared to go back at the shortest notice."
Jaemin rolls his eyes at Jeno's retort, clapping his hands together. "Alright, smartass. Get moving so you won't be the last one to arrive again."
Jeno tugs on his shoes, slipping his hands into his coat and taking an umbrella before getting out of the door.
—
Your takeout arrives earlier than expected, and you suddenly recall that you haven’t checked your mailbox in almost a week. Usually, Jeno's the one who does it, collecting mail while waiting for the elevator to arrive. When Jeno had just left, you had made a conscious effort to check the mailbox every day, but now that it's been almost a month, you’re starting to forget again.
You pick up the takeout box and place the food on the table before exiting again and heading downstairs to check the mailbox.
As per usual, the mailbox is full of bills, although usually the number of letters is much fewer. You mindlessly flip through the envelopes, not paying much attention, until one of the letters catches your eye.
It's sealed with wax, which strikes you as odd—who even uses wax to seal envelopes in this day and age?—and you place it on top of the other letters to examine later.
Upstairs, you neatly place the letters on the dining table for you to settle later on. Then, you turns your attention back to the sleek, cream-coloured envelope, intrigued.
You take a closer look at the wax seal, realising that it's a stamp of a flower bouquet. Could it be from Jeno? you wonder.
It doesn't seem very likely, however. Jeno has never been one for dramatic flair, and the simple yet elegant letter practically screams dramatic. There's only one person you knows that's this dramatic, and it's…
"Donghyuck," you breathe out. One of Jeno's college friends, Donghyuck is the definition of dramatic. He loves to exaggerate and make a big fuss out of everything, and it's entertaining to say the least. Donghyuck is also chattier than most, similar to yourself, and the two of you had hit it off when you first met at one of Jeno's college roommate's place.
Donghyuck is essentially your key to Jeno's past. Jeno has been a solitary creature for all the time you’ve known him, and he doesn't talk much about his life before he met you. Besides Jaemin and Donghyuck, Jeno doesn't initiate much interaction with his old friends either. His friends respect that, so you don’t know much about what Jeno was like in the past.
However, Donghyuck is different. He loves to bring up embarrassing memories, inside jokes, and tell people old stories about his friends. You have always loved to listen to Donghyuck talk about Jeno in college, or even his first impression of Jeno when he saw him around in high school.
If it weren't for Donghyuck, you might not even have known about Jeno's friends' whereabouts now, nor have gotten to know about them.
Remembering the letter in your hand, you hurriedly get a hairdryer to heat up the seal, gingerly removing it and opening up the letter.
Dear Jeno and Y/n, you are cordially invited to Lee Donghyuck and Ha Yeon-seok's wedding...
Wait, what? You read the first line again, your heart stopping when you see the word “wedding”. Wedding? It takes you a few seconds to remember that you’re 24 now, which is almost a reasonable age to get married at. Since neither you nor Jeno had dated anyone for a while before you got together, sometimes you forget that other people have been dating for years now.
You takes a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and continues reading.
The wedding is to be held in London, and it briefly crosses your mind that Yean-seok is half British. Once you’ve processed that information, you do a double take and check the date. It's in six months from now, and you have to get presentable clothes that fit the colour scheme within that time period.
While you’re wondering now to get the clothes in time, your phone dings.
jeno: hey, y/n
you: hello
jeno: i have... news.
Jeno calls to inform you that, regrettably, there has been a complication with some of the scenes. For one scene in particular, they had arranged for a horse carriage to be used during the filming. However, due to a miscommunication, the horse has been sold to someone else instead.
The screenwriter insists on having the horse be a specific breed for stylistic reasons, but the budget for the project makes it infeasible for the team to find a suitable horse in a short span of time.
Jaemin wants to postpone the project so he can discuss the details with the screenwriter, and clarify everything to ensure there will be no more hiccups in the production. The rest of the team will either fly back to Korea, or stay in London, whichever is more convenient for them. Since editing can be done remotely, there is little incentive for them to all have to renew their visas.
However, Jaemin has asked Jeno to stay in London so all of the important members of the team can be physically present, to ensure everybody is on the same page.
When you ask Jeno when he will return, he shrugs and says, "In two months, or half a year—I have no clue."
Although you’re upset and annoyed with his lack of a reaction, you understands that Jeno is upset too. He's suppressing his emotions, which is a bad habit of his. But you aren’t going to lash out and make him feel more demoralised, so you just mutter a quick "love you" and hang up.
After hanging up, you belatedly realise you haven’t told him about the wedding invitation yet. Still reeling from his indifferent attitude, you decide to tell him after both of you have cooled down.
—
Days turn into weeks, that turn into months, and somehow you haven’t been able to address the issue of Donghyuck's wedding. You have been through your closet countless times, and after rummaging and filtering through both of your clothes, you’ve prepared a suitable ensemble for both of them.
You’ve sent an RSVP to Donghyuck to let him know that you and Jeno would be attending, and an excited Donghyuck had sent you a video of Yeon-seok and himself clapping happily.
You have also booked a flight for a week before the date of the wedding, to give yourself time to adjust to the time difference, and you plan to stay after the wedding to spend time with your and Jeno's friends as well.
Despite having settled almost everything, you’ve left one very important detail out—you haven’t discussed it with Jeno yet.
Jeno knows that there's a wedding, of course. Donghyuck had announced it in the group chat when he and Yeon-seok first got engaged, and Yeon-seok had sent an update once the details of the wedding were confirmed.
Jeno told you the wedding, and you’d told him about the invitation, and you’d both laughed over how excessive it was.
But if you said any more about the wedding, you’d have to bring up the elephant in the room and ask if Jeno would still be working on "Chamomile Tea" during the time period, if he'd be busy, or if he'd return to Korea before that. And that, even after all the time that had passed, remained a sore spot for both of you.
So even as the date loomed closer, your conversations with Jeno never went too far in the direction of the wedding. Instead, you tiptoed around the upcoming event like shattered glass was sprinkled over it, and you didn't know what the consequences of stepping on it would be.
Arriving in London is a dream. It always has been, since you learnt that their universities look like castles and their winter consists of dreary, rainy mornings that are perfect for staying in and cuddling while cheesy rom-coms play on the TV. But it's never been your dream to land in London alone, with no one to pick you up from the airport, standing starstruck in the middle of the polished floors while people hurry by.
Some lady you don't recognise waves at you. When you frown, squinting to see if it's a familiar face, the lady walks up to you and grins, "Hi! I'm Soyeon."
You cock your head in contusion.
"I'm the screenwriter for 'Chamomile Tea', the short film Jaemin's overseeing. He wasn't able to come because he's busy trying to keep Jeno out of trouble, he said."
You let out a short laugh. That does, in fact, sound like Jaemin's job most of the time. Soyeon hands you a ticket, folding your fingers around it before you can protest.
"Jeno wanted all three of us to go to an art museum to get inspiration, but I've already finished my part for this project. All that's left for me is to give input, not come up with more ideas. Jaemin suggested that I give my ticket to you, so here it is." You takes a closer look at the ticket, and sees that it's an exhibition meant to celebrate the changing of season from summer to autumn.
"Leaves turning brown," you read aloud. "Petals fall and colours fade, yet many are enraptured by the cooling season that is autumn. Artist Hwang Yeji explores textures, colours and more in this vibrant display."
Soyeon smiles encouragingly at you. "I've known Jeno only for a few months, and he's always been extremely cold towards everyone, but his face lights up whenever he receives a text from you. And when you order takeout for him? That's the only time I see him enjoy his meals."
Your lips tremble as Soyeon continues, "Jeno's mind is a complex place. I'd hate for all that creative potential to be wasted just because he's busy moping. That's why I offered to pick you up instead of Jaemin—I was interested to know who could be the only one to make Jeno truly smile."
You close the distance between yourself and Soyeon, wrapping your arms around the latter. Even if you have only just met her, Soyeon seems so sweet and genuine. Her honest words caught you off guard, but you are touched that she dared to say them.
Soyeon pats your hair comfortingly. "Let me know if you need any more help."
You discreetly blink back tears, ignoring the stinging sensation in your nose, and force a smile. "Thanks, Soyeon."
"You're very welcome."
—
You climb out of the taxi with a sunflower in hand and your suitcase in the other. The exhibition is held in a building with windows as wide as you are tall, the stained glass illuminated by the sunlight.
The lady at the entrance scans your ticket and waves you through with a smile, and you return it before heading on inside.
Panels upon panels of stained glass line the corridors, angled in a way that pictures of light are projected on the ground, weaving between the paintings, casting an angelic glow on each artwork.
Jaemin catches your eye before you can get stuck at any of the paintings, and shushes you with a finger on his lips as you speed up.
"Hi, jagiya," he says lowly, wrapping you in a quick hug. "Jeno's busy and I didn't tell him you were coming, so the rest is up to you. I'll leave the two of you alone, okay? Call me if you need me."
You nods, and squeeze his shoulder gratefully.
—
You tucks your sunflower behind your back and wheels your suitcase to the side, silently approaching Jeno. He's completely absorbed in studying the details of the painting, so you gently rest your chin on his shoulder.
"Hey, baby." Jeno turns, coming face-to-face with you. Your noses touch, and from the corners of your eyes, you see Jeno's cheeks flush red-hot. You raises your hand to cool his cheek, but he grabs your wrist first, eyes locked on your face. His pupils dart from side to side, scouring your face as if he's afraid you’re just a figment of his imagination.
You stay in that position, Jeno’s fingers curled around your wrist, until he's convinced that you’re real, at which point his face floods with exhaustion and relief.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the space between your chin and collarbone. His hands come to rest naturally around your waist, and his hand brushes against the sunflower.
He moves back suddenly, surprised, and you awkwardly manoeuvre your arms around him. This allows you to present the sunflower you bought at a nearby florist to your boyfriend, and you’re delighted by the grin spreading across his lips.
"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks.
"No, but you've given me red camellias, and I think that’s basically the same thìng."
Jeno chuckles. "Basically.”
Jeno reaches for your suitcase, holding tightly onto the sunflower you’ve just given him. He turns to you, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? I'll take you back to her hotel."
You frown, pulling back in surprise. "What are you talking about?"
"Aren't you tired?"
You wave his concern off flippantly. "I'll be just fine. I'll crash later, and the jetlag will hit me like a truck, but I've already allocated a week for getting used to it."
Jeno snorts. "As expected."
You wave your ticket. "Hey, Soyeon's already passed up her chance to see this exhibition so I could go, okay? I'm not planning to waste it."
Jeno nods rapidly to placate you. "Okay! Let's go then."
He trails behind you obediently until you see a piece that catches your fancy, stopping to take a look. The painting depicts several lilies of the valley in a vase. Behind the vase, there are two mountains painted in grey, but the small patch of grass that the lilies sit on is several vibrant shades of green.
You stay in front of that painting for a while, impressed by the details and texture on the canvas. A shutter sound catches your attention, and you blink a few times before turning to see Jeno holding up his camera and smiling sheepishly.
He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You looked too good standing there, I just had to get a shot of you."
"It's okay." You look back at the canvas, eyebrows knitting together.
"Don't you think the art style looks familiar?"
"I don't know much about paintings, so I can't say... " Jeno's reply dies on his lips, and he, too, stares at the painting with interest. "You're right, it does look familiar."
The two of you hum in concentration, Jeno resting his chin on top of your head while you wracks your brain for an answer. You tilts your head this way and that, and then it hits you.
"Park Jisung," you say at the same time Jeno does. "How did you–"
Jeno points at a small square of text. "It says right here. Park Jisung, 24, oil on canvas." You mentally slap your forehead. How could you forget that museums put up a description of each artwork and its artist? You must be too tired from the flight.
"That's right, " you say. "That's why it looks so familiar. Contrasting colours was one of the most defining aspects of his style."
You had met Jisung at a kids' art camp when you were in university, and the two of them had learnt a lot from each other while teaching the kids. You had been surprised to find out that he was two years your senior in a different university, despite being the same age as you.
You had lost contact with him after that, and had been very, very shocked to see him at Jeno's college reunion. Although you don't speak much to Jisung now, the things you learnt from him at that one camp will stick with you forever.
"That kid's insane," Jeno muses. "He skipped a year in elementary, lived with hyungs he barely knew in university, and did side jobs because he hadn't gotten a scholarship to pay for his tuition fees, unlike Yeon-seok."
You shrug. "Maybe not 'insane'. Just determined."
Jeno nods. "And he's not much of a kid anymore, is he?"
You shake your head with a smile. "Not anymore."
—
As you wander around with Jeno, stopping at paintings to admire them, a sense of melancholy threatens to overwhelm you, slipping between your eyelids like a mass of black water, a receding wave preparing to crash upon the shore of your eyelashes.
You blink back thoughts of insecurity, trying to focus on the artworks and not your feelings, but it’s no use. You can’t escape from the thoughts running wild in your head, and it gets the better of you, a lone tear managing to get past your barriers, trailing slowly down your cheek.
You subtly wipe it away, but Jeno notices immediately, and he stops short.
He turns towards you, concern emanating off his being, and it offers you some comfort. He holds you carefully, like he’s not sure if you’ll break apart in his hands. His body shields you from anything else in the museum, encasing you in a bubble of protection and silence.
You breathe in deeply; once, then twice. You feel the heat behind your eyes slowly fading to a simple stinging sensation, one that doesn’t make you feel completely helpless.
Jeno’s hands tighten around you, and you instinctively lean in towards him. He doesn’t speak, allowing you to unravel the spool of thread wrapped around your lungs, prying apart the anxiety that prevents you from breathing.
When you can think straight again, you look at Jeno, and he knows.
Without words, understanding passes between you, and Jeno knows everything that’s running through your mind.
He nudges you, gently. Are you okay? his eyebrows ask, raising so high they almost disappear into his fringe.
You can lie about a lot of things, like why you came to the museum in the first place or how you feel staring at the art on the walls or whether you’re okay right now, but you don’t. Because you know that regardless of what you say, Jeno will see right through you like you’re a ghost. You’ll never understand if it’s because it’s you, or if everyone’s feelings are transparent to him. You don’t think you care.
It’s enough to just stand there, weightless. You’re completely supported by Jeno, whose embrace is so tight it’s practically lifting you off the ground, and you;re not complaining.
If he could lift your burdens off your mind the same way he’s lifting your feet from the ground right now, he would. And you would want him to.
“I feel like my art’s worth nothing if it can’t be shown to the world.” You speak slowly, uncertainly, knowing you might cry if you let everything out too quickly. Jeno wants to stop you before you get caught up in the flow of you words, but he knows it’s better if you let it all out.
Opening a bottle of carbonated soda that’s just been shaken is dangerous, but if he leaves it, the bottle might just explode.
“I know I don’t make art to be seen. I make it for myself. But at the same time, can any artist say that their craft is not made for the eyes of man? We all long for approval and praise, and that is partly what we make art for.”
Your lips tremble, and Jeno finds himself forced to stare at your quivering eyelashes and the sheen of tears you’re barely holding back. Still, you steel yourself, digging your heels into the ground to steady yourself.
“I wonder, sometimes. If my art isn’t seen, is it even art anymore?”
That’s the minefield, the question Jeno can’t answer without speaking baseless comfort. He has no answer to it, only empty words that he knows will fail to put you at ease.
You, however, don’t expect an answer. You look curiously at Jeno, waiting for a response, but the response doesn’t have to be a satisfactory answer.
Jeno leans in, tucking your head between his chin and his collarbone, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.
He holds you there until you’ve stopped trembling. Then, one hand still firmly in yours, he takes you back to the hotel, sitting on the edge of your single bed while you sit and stare into nothingness.
When you make no move to get changed, he stands, and brings you to the bathroom. He peels the clothes from your body, helping to scrub your skin until it’s a rosy shade of pink, then wraps you in a towel and moves your arms to dry your body.
After he’s showered, the two of you sit on the bed, Jeno on top of the covers, while you’re tucked underneath them. Jeno has no change of clothes, no money, only his phone and both of your tickets to the museum.
In his street clothes, he refuses to get under the blanket and dirty the bed, but you are content with his presence.
You lie on the bed with your arms wrapped around Jeno’s waist, and when the shock has faded, you cry yourself to sleep.
Jeno is there throughout it, a beaming light in the whirlwind of emotions you’re experiencing, a constant presence that grounds you. He allows you to breathe between sobs, until they slowly fade away and your eyes close, motionless.
The next day, you find a wreath of galaxes on your bedside table, along with a glass of water, and it feels like a great weight has finally been removed from your shoulders.
The day of Donghyuck’s wedding comes earlier than you were expecting. Between taking you out to dinner and going on bike rides around the city, Jeno has kept you busy. Busy enough to forget your troubles, or at least for you to be able to cope with them in a relatively healthy manner.
You hear three knocks on the door, and as you go to open it, you see Jeno standing there, in the emerald green tuxedo you picked for him and the matching tie. His shirt is a pale green, so pale it can be mistaken for white, and gel gives his hair a wet gleam.
He smiles innocently, and it outshines all the charm his outfit has.
You fell in love with all of Jeno, after all, not just his appearance.
Your sage green dress flows past your ankles, and it would drag on the floor if you weren't wearing heels. They’re tall, but even with them on, you are still only the same height as Jeno. He grins at you, and carries you, bridal-style, into the lift lobby.
“Leave some room for the grooms later, stop trying to one-up them,” you joke, but Jeno only hoists you up into a more comfortable position.
“No can do,” Jeno says cheekily.
You don't pursue it.
—
A surprise awaits you in the car. As you open the door to the passenger side, you find that it’s filled—and so is the driver’s seat. Your heart skips a beat, thinking you must’ve gone to the wrong car, but the sight of the driver’s face makes you do a double take.
“Jisung?”
Jisung offers you a shy grin. “Yep, it’s me.”
“Is it really you? I thought… I never thought I’d see you again! How–” your words come out from your mouth before you can think them through, your rapid-fire Korean faltering in your confusion.
“Donghyuck and I are friends, remember?” You don't really, but if Jeno and Jisung are friends from college, it makes sense that Donghyuck would know them both too.
You clap a hand over your mouth, mind reeling. “So… you were invited to the wedding too?”
Jisung nods. Then, he gestures towards the lady in the driver’s seat. “I also have to introduce her to you. Y/n, meet Yeji. Yeji, Y/n.”
Yeji offers her hand for you to shake, and you take it, wondering where you’ve heard the name before. Yeji, Yeji, Yeji… Ah. You’ve got it. “Hwang Yeji?”
She’s the artist who organised the exhibition Soyeon had given you tickets to view. It was there, at the museum, that you saw Jisung’s art. If she really is Hwang Yeji, then everything will make sense.
Yeji nodds. “Pleasure to meet you.”
She picks up a small bouquet of pink peonies, orange tulips and heather, presenting it to you. “Jisung showed me a few of your pieces, mostly older ones,” she says by way of explanation. “They had the potential to become something more. I heard from Jeno that you’d seen my exhibition, so I know you probably like flowers, and you know that I like them too. So this bouquet is an invitation for you to work with me some time, for us to perhaps collaborate on another exhibition in future.”
You are taken aback by the sudden offer, but you’re not an idiot. You remember the way you had collapsed into Jeno the week before, scared that you would never be able to get your art out there. Here is your chance, now.
You take it, gratefully receiving the bouquet. You don’t miss the symbolism of the flowers, the goodwill the arrangement holds. You know it is intentional.
“Thank you for your offer. I look forward to working with you.”
Yeji shakes your hand heartily, and you and Jeno get into the backseat.
After settling in, you rest the bouquet on your lap, and you turn to see Jeno holding a white rose. You frown, wondering where he could’ve conjured it from, and lock eyes with Jisung in the driver’s mirror. You raise your eyebrows in question, and he shrugs innocently.
You roll your eyes at the conspirators, but turn your attention back to Jeno. Jeno carefully slips the white rose into the side of the bouquet, managing to prevent it from looking uneven. You play with the petals of the rose, its symbolism clear in your head.
Used to congratulate people on career successes, your mind supplies helpfully. The only career success you can think of right now is also the most recent one, Yeji’s offer to you. But there’s no way Jeno could have known that Yeji would put that offer out. Unless…
“Did you know?” You ask, tone accusing. You doesn’t have to finish the question; Jeno understands what you’re talking about.
“No, I didn’t know if Yeji would offer to work with you for an exhibition. Jisung only told me that he had shown Yeji your art, and I had faith in your abilities. I knew that after witnessing the extent of your talents, Yeji would have something good to offer you, career-wise.”
You can’t argue with that. The logic is sound, and the flowers are cohesively pretty. You continue to play with the petals, a small smile dancing on your lips.
The smile doesn’t escape Jeno’s attention, and he smiles too.
—
It starts to drizzle as soon as you reach the wedding place. Jeno is quick to procure a clear umbrella, holding it for both of you. He knows you wouldn’t want to get your clothes wet.
Jaemin is there too, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, standing by the side. Donghyuck’s wedding is a loud, chaotic one, with many guests you don't recognise all talking with each other. Jaemin hovers at the vague edge of the crowd, as much of an introvert as Jeno, and you tug Jeno over.
“Hi, jagiya.” Jaemin envelopes you in a warm hug, and he smells like home.
Jeno opens his hands for a hug too, but Jaemin only laughs and swats his hand away. Jeno slings one hand over Jaemin’s shoulder, and you snatch his umbrella away, going off to find Donghyuck.
The two men stand side by side, Jaemin still holding the umbrella, watching you disappear into the hordes of people.
—
The rain gets heavier, and you try to occupy as little space as possible, not letting a single part of your body protrude from under the umbrella. Droplets of rain splash onto your shoes and your face, and you wipes them from your face with the back of your hand.
Jisung stands beside Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, with Chenle, Jaemin’s old roommate, and a couple of other men you can’t remember the names of. Donghyuck and Yeon-seok’s roommates from university, you think, because you remember seeing them at the reunion.
You congratulate the grooms, and move to stand next to Yeji and Jisung. The small circle are the only people that have gotten a chance to speak with Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, and by the looks of it, their conversation isn’t going to end anytime soon.
Yeji makes small talk with you, and you laugh about a few shared experiences, before you notice the crowd starting to disperse, and the officiator announces that the wedding is beginning.
You move back to where Jeno is, and he leaves Jaemin with his umbrella, ducking under your umbrella to join you.
The wedding is simple and sweet, and there are tears all around as the two bridegrooms say their vows.
“...to love and to cherish, until death does us part.” Jeno’s fingers suddenly falter, and the golden locket he’s been fidgeting with throughout the wedding slips through his fingers. He lunges to catch it, and you finally notice what he’s been doing with his hands.
Resting one hand on his left knee to calm him down, you nuzzle into his neck, and nudge his hand open with your index finger.
“What’re you holding?” you ask under your breath.
“Nothing.” You briefly register the officiator allowing Yeon-seok and Donghyuck to kiss, and you look up at them just in time.
“Open your hand,” you command.
Obediently, Jeno uncurls his fingers, and you take the locket from him. You fumble with the clasp, but it springs open, and there’s a picture inside. Squinting, you realise that it’s a picture of you and Jeno, taken when you weren’t paying attention. Your hand is shielding your eyes from the sun, and Jeno’s firm hand is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.
Your grip on Jeno’s knee tightens.
“How long have you been carrying this around for?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse.
Jeno looks away. “Since we took the picture. It’s been, what, two years?”
You feel your throat seizing up, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths. Jeno has been carrying the locket around for two years. Almost the same length of time that you’ve been dating for. He’s loved you enough for the whole span of that time to carry a picture of you around wherever he goes.
You can’t breathe. “You’ve been carrying this around for two years?”
Jeno shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, like a soldier going off to war,” he quips. Somehow, you’ve switched to Korean, but you don't quite register it. It just feels right, better, to speak in your native language.
It fits, the same way your body fits into the cracks of Jeno’s body, the way his arms wrap around you and fit into every nook and cranny of yours. Your scars line up against each other’s, and Jeno is the puzzle piece that makes you whole.
“So you love me.” It might seem strange, after all they’ve been through, to doubt it. But it hasn’t been long, and you hate to give yourself away, to love somebody else. Every day, you wonder if you’ve crossed the line from like to love, or if you’ve fallen out of like with each other.
“Yes.” You never knew one word could turn your world upside down. The rain has eased, but it feels like there’s water rushing in your ears, heart pounding.
Then, “Are you okay?”
You hear it from your other side, your left side, and you see Yeji there, concern in her eyes. You turn your attention back to the proceedings, and see Donghyuck taking the wedding bouquet from Yeon-seok, preparing to toss it in the air.
“Yes,” you say, determinedly. Jeno guides your hand to tilt the umbrella backwards, giving both of you a better view of the grooms, and the water continues to flow off the umbrella.
Neither of them makes a move to take it, leaving the more eager guests to rush towards Donghyuck, surrounding him. He turns his back towards them, Yeon-seok moderating the crowd, and tosses the bouquet into the air.
It arcs towards the middle of the crowd, and a lone carnation falls out. Jeno reflexively reaches out for it before it can fall on the soaked grass, and he tucks the yellow carnation behind your ear.
His face is right next to yours, his breathing fast and rapid, and you hear the pulsing of his heart when you place a hand on his chest.
Jeno leans his forehead on yours, the umbrella creating a bubble of silence and tranquility amidst the loud cheers and celebration outside of it. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he smiles, the tear caught on the upside of his upper lip.
You watch as he licks it away, and brush the pad of your thumb against the trail of the tear.
“Are you crying?” you ask softly.
“No,” Jeno says, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “It’s just the rain.”
You wrap your arm around his neck, nose bridge aligned with his, waiting quietly.
“I know you don’t want to get married now,” Jeno says. “But please, take this carnation as a promise that I will never let you have your heart broken.”
You have heard false promises fall from Jeno’s lips before. You’ve faced his broken promises, seen through his lies, accepted his empty praise. This time, however, it’s different. You know it in your heart, can hear the dogged beating of his heart, refusing to hurt you again.
You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
“Okay,” you say. “I’ll take that promise.”
—
floriography
violet: a declaration to always be true
blue salvia / azure blue sage: harbours sentiments of missing and thinking of someone.
peppermint: warmth of feeling
lavender: purity, devotion, serenity, grace and calmness.
sunflower: adoration and loyalty, long life and lasting happiness.
chrysanthemum: longevity, fidelity, joy and optimism.
red camellia: you’re a flame in my heart.
galaxes: encouragement.
pink peonies: good luck, prosperity and success
orange tulips: joy, enthusiasm and excitement
heather: admiration and support
white roses: symbolises innocence and purity. used to congratulate people on career successes.
carnations: symbolise pride and love for someone in a supportive way. used to tailor bouquets to one’s favourite colour due to their ease of dyeing.
genre: mark lee x reader, college au (not that important for the context tbh), friends to lovers, fluff, drabble (900 words)
summary: your friends referred to you as the mark lee interpreter. you weren't sure why, but you understood him- even the words he didn't say.
warnings: none!
To many, you were known as the Mark Lee Interpreter. Such was usually said in jest, but you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your when the moniker was bestowed upon you. Sure, the guy rambles a bit, but if you listen, really listen, he has quite a beautiful outlook on the world.
You and Mark usually conversed in motion. You’ve divulged your deepest secrets to him while on aimless walks. You’ve cracked your wisest jokes while cycling. You’ve had entire conversations through your eyes while dancing in grimy bars.
Now was no different, though a more chill variation. It’s Spring, so the two of you are taking a stroll in between classes. The sun knocks the chill off an otherwise too-chilly day, its rays falling on your face like a smattering of kisses. Spring isn’t in its picturesque stage quite yet. The stasis of winter still remains, trees barren and skies grayish amidst the light that peeks through the cloud coverage. It’s calming.
There’s a creek that runs through the center of campus, a little bridge arching over the widest part. This is where you stood now, watching the water trickle over stones.
“I think about rocks a lot,” Mark says out of nowhere. (Translation: Nature is so beautiful- even the most mundane and minute aspects of it. Even the parts that people forget. I think about forgotten things a lot, like rocks.) You believe it. Mark thinks a lot about a lot of things.
“They’re, like, soooo varied. Y’know?” You do know. Large rocks. Mountainous rocks. Boulders. Stones. Pebbles. There are many types of rocks. “The ones in the creek look super smooth. It’s… hypnotizing.” Mark speaks as though he’s constantly in amazement, or on the brink of an epiphany. He’s the embodiment of potential, of the hypothetical, of what could be. You think a lot about what you and Mark could be.
Of the many possibilities, you conclude that as long as some form of togetherness is involved, you’d be anything for him.
“I think about water a lot,” you respond.
“What’s your favorite kind of water?” (Translation: Indulge me. How intently do you think about the minutiae of the world? Are you as crazy about water as I am about rocks?)
“Hm,” you say. “Good question. No one’s ever asked me that.” You assume he’s asking you to identify a particular body of water as your favorite. A memory comes to mind.
It was the summer after freshman year. You and Mark went to the beach everyday together. You think of the chilly water that rolled over your toes in the waking moments of dawn. You think of how beautiful the sunrise looked reflected on the ocean. You think of Mark waking up with you, despite not being a morning person. That wasn’t your favorite type of water, no. You liked the sea water that danced on the ends of Mark’s hair. The drops that traveled down the follicle, forming shimmering beads, and dripped onto the sand below him. You made a game of watching and counting them that summer. (The highest you got was 47.)
You’re not sure how to consolidate these thoughts into a sentence that doesn’t sound absolutely insane. You decide to omit this information entirely. A conversation for a different day, you suppose.
“The ocean. Cliche, I know,” you say. Mark nods to himself, then hums.
The creek beneath you harmonizes with Mark’s humming. He begins walking again, taking your hand in his. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary for your friendship, but it makes your heart do this twisty thing you can’t quite place. It was the one action of his you couldn’t interpret. Mark doesn’t make a big deal about nor does he discuss the matter afterwards. It was almost like he was entitled to your hand, clasping his calloused fingers around yours without a second though.
You’ve never actually looked at your intertwined hands before. The first time he grabbed it (during one of those days on the beach) Mark acted so nonchalant. You figured it didn’t mean much to him. You were scared that, if provided a visual, you’d never stop thinking about his stupid hands.
This time, you allow yourself a peek. The cuff of Mark’s jacket overhangs on his wrists and he squeezes your hand when he realizes you’re looking. (Translation: You’re finally acknowledging this. Are you here? Can you feel me?)
Your hand is getting sweaty. You pull away to wipe it on your jeans. Mark can’t believe you’re nervous right now. You’re never nervous. The two of you have become accustomed to the wordless ease of your relationship.
Mark’s eyeing you again. You pretend you can’t see him in your peripheral vision. It doesn’t work. “Nervous?”
“Not even a little bit,” you say defiantly. You snatch his hand back into yours as if to prove your point. However, this only does the opposite as you begin to literally tremble.
“You’re so funny,” says Mark, running his thumb over the back of your hand. He slowly lifts your hand to his lips. He doesn’t kiss it. He simply presses your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact while he does so. Your breath hitches.
“Mark-” is all you manage to say. You can’t meet his eyes, so you look at your hand as it swings between the two of you. Elation radiates off Mark’s skin. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Your hand is so warm,” Mark says. (Translation: I love you.)
a/n: currently unedited + feedback is always appreciated!
for @danishmiilk‘s of witchcraft and wizardry collaboration
SYNOPSIS. When you started working at Honeydukes to escape your troubles, the last thing you thought you’d find was a person who loved you just as you were with no strings attached. When Yangyang Liu walked into the candy shop, his mind was set on finding treats but turns out, he found something so much sweeter than the sweets that lined the shelf—love.
GENRE. hogwarts!au, strangers to lovers!au, found family!au, coming of age, slice of life, mutual pining, angst, fluff
PAIRING. gryffindor!Yangyang x (f) reader
WORD COUNT. 16.3k
stop. stop. it is not just the women and children of gaza. it is not just the mothers. it is also the men. the fathers, the uncles, the vendor, the neighbor, the barber. stop dehumanising them. they are also being killed. they are also being bombed. they are also losing loved ones. palestinians are also losing their fathers and brothers. stop it. stop erasing the pain and suffering of palestinian men. they deserve our love, care and voice just as much as the women and children do.
hihi can i req nct dream + innocent physical touch like playing with their fingers while they're watching something or like long hugs where they dont speak anything just comfortable silence and love AH IM GONG CRAZY FLUFF HOURS ALWAYS GETS ME
—｛🎂｝INNOCENT TOUCHES; W/ NCT DREAM
pairings. OT7!dream x fem!reader
wc. 566
warnings. lots of kisses , tooth rotten fluff
synopsis. cute and innocent physical touches with the dreamies
—｛🍰｝... MARK ⋮ kisses while he's playing the guitar !
you stood in the door way , watching your boyfriend play the guitar. "baby." he whined. "why are you standing there just watching?" you smiled , walking over to him , sitting on the bed. "i'm sorry , you just look so cute , playing the guitar." his ears where red , making you laugh. "i was just playing a song random song." you placed your hand on his knee , rubbing it softly. "it's beautiful." you planted a soft kiss on his lips. "another one." he whispered , you smiled kissing his soft lips again.
"i love you so much."
—｛🍰｝... RENJUN ⋮ wrapping your arms around his waist while he paints !
"hi baby." he felt your arms wrap around his waist. "you need anything?" you shook your head. "i just wanted to feel you." he hummed. "do you want to paint with me?" you declined politely , he nodded continuing on with what he was doing. after a while he put the paint brush away , turning around facing you now. "do you like it?" you nodded. "it's beautiful." you kissed his nose and he giggled , ears red.
"so are you."
—｛🍰｝... JENO ⋮ playing with his hair while he plays mobile video games !
you scrolled through tiktok while jeno played games on his phone with his head in your lap. growing bored , you turned your phone off , running your fingers through his hair , he sighed softly signaling that he liked it. , you smiled doing it again , getting the same reaction. he paused the game, lifting his head up smiling at you. you giggled , bending down kissing his waiting lips.
"i love you so much"
—｛🍰｝... HAECHAN ⋮ sitting in his lap while he plays video games !
you threw your bag on the floor of your room, sighing. "hey baby." haechan sat in his gaming chair. "what's wrong?" he noticed your sad face. "tired, i got a bad mark on this test." you took off all your clothes , putting his sweatshirt on. "i just want to hug you." you climbed into his lap , resting your head in his neck. "you want me to turn the game off?" you kisses his jaw , shaking your head. "no, its fine ." he kissed the crown of your head , getting back to his game , you slowly drifted off to sleep. "shut the fuck up , and play the game right!" haechan shushed jeno , kissing your sleeping head.
"be quiet, my baby had a bad day and she's sleeping right now."
—｛🍰｝... JAEMIN ⋮ holding hands while watching a film !
jaemin watched you, with your head in his lap, laughing at the movie, in front of you with the biggest smile on his face. he grabbed your hand playing with your fingers separated them, playing with your freshly painted nails. you looked up at him with a smile, lacing your fingers together , turning back to watch the movie. he placed little kisses on your knuckles , then leaning to kiss your forehead.
"love you"
—｛🍰｝... CHENLE ⋮ cuddling in the morning !
your eyes fluttered open as you felt chenle leaving little kisses against your neck, you tried to be quiet but you just couldn't help but giggle. "i knew you were up." he whispered kissing you again, and you turned around facing him , he pulled you close to him , if that was even possible , your head on his chest. you both quietly traced circles on each others arm , he bent down to kiss your cheek.
"i want to stay like this all day."
—｛🍰｝... JISUNG ⋮ long hugs after a bad day !
you were cleaning up the kitchen when the door opened. you turned around , frowning as your boyfriend walked in , head low as he took his shoes off. you could tell he had a bad day as he looked to you with sad sleepy eyes. you put the last dish away , walking over to him , letting his tall frame crash into yours. you listen to his heartbeat as you both stood their in silence. he tried to speak , but you stopped him, whispering.
synopsis: who would’ve thought that a multitude of failed blind dates would lead you to fake dating jake sim? definitely not you. soon, you find out fake dating has its pros and cons. pros; you’re finally in a relationship, you have your own personal chauffeur, and your own personal study buddy. cons; you fall in love. what a mess.
genre: strangers to lovers, blind dating, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff and angst
featuring: enhypen, wonyoung of ive, yunjin of lsfm, ricky of zb1, soobin of txt
warnings: light angst, profanity, mentions of alchohol/consumption of alchohol, lots of kissing, mentions of death
word count: 25k
author’s note: look this got out of hand and idk how that happened. what was supposed to be under 20k turned into this mess. please ignore all the editing mistakes and if the story doesnt flow well/is choppy and some scenes feel out of place….just know i had to cut scenes out to post this fic. i couldnt post the whole 28k word fic for some weird reason so this is the edited version. please enjoy and lmk if u want to read the scenes i had to cut! anyway the reader is korean in this fic, just a heads up. u will see Why. um. thats it. and also if the ending feels rushed, that’s because It Is.
“Are you mansplaining to me?” You ask your date, a frown permanently sharpened onto your face. “Because, for the record, I know what a wage gap is. No need to explain it in a condescending way.”
You were excited about this date -- the fourth one your kind friend, and roommate, Wonyoung had set up for you. She had taken your inexperience in high school very personally and took it upon herself to get you to go on as many dates as possible. In her own words, “you’re at college! Time to let loose, girl!”
So; your first date went well, but it only ended in a friendship. Taehyun Kang was fun to talk to, but when the date came to an end the both of you agreed your relationship wouldn’t ever go further than a friendship, so you exchanged numbers, followed each other on TikTok, and began to send each other random, funny TikToks to each other.
Your second date showed up stoned. Ben was fun to talk to since he was stoned, and his answers to the questions you had to ask ten times were completely off-topic, but you still had an enjoyable time. Though, when the date ended you both went your separate ways. (Ben texted you within the following days. He invited you to a party. You then lost your virginity.)
Your third date was with a girl. Yuri Jo. She was pretty and funny, and she went on this date to make her crush jealous. You willingly helped Yuri out, and a week after your date, Yuri’s crush confessed to her. Yuri and you keep in touch over Instagram -- Yuri’s feed is just her and her girlfriend now, and you think it’s adorable.
This brings us to your fourth date; Soobin Choi. Anime enthusiast, takes Gender Studies as an elective course, and a professional mansplainer. When he showed up to the date, you felt yourself swoon over how handsome he looked. His smile was cute, and dimples were even cuter -- and then Soobin opened his mouth. The first red flag was the fact Soobin said he wasn’t a feminist, but women should be treated just as fairly as men. You told Soobin that was feminism and he shot you down. Then, for the better half of your date, Soobin mansplained many things to you; Anime, Maki Zeinin from Jujutsu Kaisen, and the wage gap.
“And I don’t think men should even be allowed to speak about Maki Zeinin. She is for the women. She is gay.”
Soobin harshly stabs his tiramisu as he listens to you. “Maki is-- Maki is not gay.” Soobin splutters. “Calling a character, whose sexuality hasn’t been explicitly revealed, gay is very --”
Huffing, you push back your chair and glare at Soobin. “Thank you for the date, Soobin but I think it’s time for me to go. I forgot I had fish to feed and a New Girl marathon to finish.”
“Fine,” sniffs Soobin, abandoning his tiramisu. “Let’s go split the payment.”
After splitting the pavement, you step out into the cold December air. Shivering, you draw your coat tighter around your torso and scan the streets around you. Soobin turns to you, and you brace yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to say.
“Would you like a ride home?” Soobin asks.
“No,” you answer without any hesitation.
“Are you sure? How else will you get home, then?”
“I can walk,” you respond coldly.
“Walk,” Soobin repeats, not believing your words. “Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Come on, let me take you home.”
Sighing, you give in. It was quite cold, and you weren’t sure you would be able to walk all the way home in the dark. “Fine.” You follow Soobin to his car, which is a car you expected from a college student; old, and barely working.
It takes a while for hot air to blow through the heaters, so you sit in the cold silence with Soobin for half of the ride back to your place. “How do you even know Wonyoung?” You ask Soobin, looking out the window and watching cars race past.
“I don’t know her, she’s just a friend of a friend,” Soobin answers.
“Why did you even agree to go on this date?”
Soobin shrugs. “Post-grad is lonely.”
Finally, your dorm hall comes into view. You could practically hear New Girl calling to you. “Thank you for the ride home,” you tell Soobin.
“No problem. See you around?”
“Yeah,” you shut the door and immediately sprint into your dorm hall, aching for warmth over the chilly wind blowing violently through the air. Rushing past the kitchen and the common areas, you dash into the elevator that Ricky was holding open for you. You thank the platinum blond and rest against the elevator walls, fanning yourself.
In your pocket, your phone begins to buzz uncontrollably. Stifling your sigh, you pull out your phone and unlock it to see all of your friends active in the group chat.
yoon 💖
[1 video attachment]
WOAHHHHHHHHHH?????
apparently jake gave her chlamydia LMFAO
jiwon loml
throwing a red drink all over his white top..that’s gotta hurt lol
wony 👯
jake has chlamydia???
yoon 💖
idk.
the girl in the video mentions it tho. did u not watch it???
The elevator door dings open and you step out, walking down the hall to your room. Your and Wonyoung’s names were proudly sketched onto the whiteboard outside of your room. Cats, courtesy of Jiwon, and hearts, courtesy of Rei were added on after you hung the whiteboard outside of the room when you first moved in.
Pushing open the door, Wonyoung lies on her bed, swinging her legs through the air as she smiles bashfully at her phone. “Welcome back, Y/N,” Wonyoung looks up from her phone and wiggles her eyebrows. “So? Did you kiss? Are you two boyfriend and girlfriend? Soobin’s really handsome, isn’t he?”
“He’s handsome,” you agree, shrugging off your coat. “But. He’s just not my type.”
Wonyoung groans, rolling onto her back. “No one is your type. What is your type?”
“Someone who doesn’t mansplain the wage gap to me,” you deadpan, crawling under your covers and staring up at the ceiling. “He said he wasn’t a feminist, yet he hopes that one day women can be treated just as fairly as men.”
Wonyoung snorts. “That sounds terrible.”
“It was terrible,” you groan, rolling onto your stomach and suffocating yourself with your pillow.
“Well, I’m out of options,” Wonyoung tells you. “My connections can only get me so far.”
“That’s okay,” you roll back onto your back and look over at Wonyoung. “I’m thinking, you know that section in the school’s magazine? Where they send two people on a blind date and then those two people write about the date for the magazine? I might sign up for that. It looks fun, and who knows, maybe I will find the love of my life! If not, I’ll just join dating apps.”
Wonyoung perks up, her eyes shining. “Oh my god! Yes!” She shifts to the edge of her bed. “You should one-hundred percent do it, Y/N. Apply for it now!” Wonyoung slips off her bed and steps over to her desk, grabbing her Macbook and flopping down onto your bed beside you.
With a pounding heart, you sign up for the blind date program. “I hope I get someone nice,” you tell Wonyoung as you click the apply button. “Someone I can at least have a conversation with.”
“Or someone you can get down and dirty with,” smirks Wonyoung, ignoring your glare. Her phone buzzes and you steal a glance at the notification. You gasp and whack Wonyoung on the shoulder when you see who has just texted her. “Sunghoon Park? Since when did you know Sunghoon Park?”
“I don’t,” Wonyoung says.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t know him,” but the blush spreading across her cheeks as she types back with a stupid smile on her face says otherwise.
Rolling your eyes, you pull out your phone to spill Wonyoung’s Sunghoon Secret to the groupchat. “I totally believe you, Wonyoung.”
—-
It’s been a week since you took a leap of faith and applied for the blind date program run by your university’s magazine. It’s been a week of you non-stop refreshing the top of your school email’s inbox. It’s been a week of Wonyoung constantly asking you if you had scored a blind date. It’s been a week of nothing but stress.
You slowly come to terms with the fact that you weren’t chosen -- it was like you were asking whoever it is that pairs two people together to search for a needle in a stack of needles. What needle were they supposed to be searching for in the first place? It’s all futile.
Though, when your inbox receives a new email on a Wednesday night, you can’t help but squeal. “Wonyoung!” You call out, waving your best friend over as you eagerly squirm on the armchair you were sitting on in the common room of your dormitory.
Congrats! You’ve been chosen…reads the email notification. Wonyoung eagerly badgers you to open the email, and without hesitation you do. A flood of information is revealed to you and Wonyoung -- your date was to happen on a Friday night. 6 PM. At the local restaurant that is an avid sponsor of your college’s football team, you and your date were to be gifted with a one-hundred-dollar voucher to cover the cost of your dinner.
“This is amazing, Y/N!” Wonyoung whispers to you in the dark, hours after you received the email. The time was creeping into the early morning of Thursday when Wonyoung whispered to you, the both of you unable to sleep because of the email you received confirming that you were going on another blind date this Friday.
Friday comes faster than you expected it to, and you were not prepared for what it brings you. As Murphy’s Law states; anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And it all starts with you sleeping through your 9 AM alarm. (For the first time ever.) You wake up with ten minutes to get dressed, eat, and race across campus to your first lecture of the day -- even worse, it was raining outside. Torrential rain.
It doesn’t get any better. At your first tutorial of the day, your tutor hands you back the essay you asked her to go over, and it’s covered in red marker with a comment saying this essay is a C. C plus at best. And you feel your knees give out. You race through lunch, grabbing hot chips from your dormitory’s lunch hall and re-reading the red-marked comments on your worst essay to date.
Your following lecture is canceled because your professor is sick, and then your last tutorial of the day is also canceled. You end up joining Wonyoung, Yoon, and Rei in one of the campus cafes, soothing your sorrows with apple juice bought from a vending machine.
“Enhypen’s throwing a party tomorrow,” Yoon says. “Should we go?”
“I’m down,” Rei shrugs. “I need to forget all about the assessments waiting for me back at my dorm.” Then, she nudged Wonyoung. “But I bet Wonyoung is eager to go. Her beau is in that frat.”
Wonyoung blushes hotly and tells Rei to shut the fuck up. You don’t have the energy in you to join in on Rei’s teasing.
When you reach your dorm after spending the rest of the afternoon elbow-deep in assessments in the campus library, you note the time. 5:30 PM. Didn’t you have something to do at 6? Then, you remember. The blind date. Fuck.
You throw open the tiny shared closet and rummage through all the clothes you and Wonyoung were able to stuff in here before investing in a couple of dressers. Every outfit you try on isn’t up to your, or Wonyoung’s standards, and by the time you’re done with your outfit and makeup, the clock reads 5:55 PM. You can’t take the bus now; you’re going to be super fucking late.
Bidding Wonyoung a hurried goodbye, you race into the common room and scout for a familiar face. As usual, Ricky was reclining sideways on one of the many couches, Uno cards in hand, and completely obliterating who he was playing with. (Bahiyyih, Dayeon, and Youngeun.)
“Ricky!” You call out, bounding over to the boy. “Could you drive me somewhere? Please? I’ll pay you!”
“Drive you? Where?” Ricky asks, placing a yellow six on top of the growing pile of Uno cards.
“Just.” You check the time on your phone. 5:57 PM. “Down the street. The Korean BBQ place.”
Ricky huffs. “Alright. Let me finish this game first, though.”
“Ricky --”
With a flourish, Ricky places his remaining red cards on top of the red card Youngeun placed down. The three girls all let scandalous gasps rip from their mouths and Ricky smirks proudly. “I won. I expect to see my essays finished by Friday.”
Ricky slips off the couch and pulls his keys out from his hoodie pocket, swinging them through the air. “Let’s go, Y/N.”
—-
“Thank you!” You shout at Ricky as you shut the car door harshly. You break into a run for the Korean BBQ place, already five minutes late. Your heart pounds insanely fast and it feels like you’re about to explode.
With your mind a mess, you don’t notice the large puddle in front of you until it’s too late. Cold water soaks your left foot, drenching your shoe and sock. Coming to an abrupt halt, you glance down, finally taking notice of the large puddle and you let various loud curses rip.
You don’t have time to figure out how to dry yourself, so you carry on to the barbeque place. Wrenching the door open and listening to the bell jingle harshly, you scan the room of people. You don’t even know who you’re looking for. A waitress appears in front of you, beaming. “Are you here for the blind date?”
You nod your head. “Great, I’ll take you over!” You trail after the waitress, cursing under your breath as your shoe squelches every few steps, and your feet grow colder every second you don’t stop to dry yourself. You bump into the waitress, realizing she has come to a stop. “I’ll return in a bit to take your orders. Enjoy!” And then the waitress disappears.
You see who your date is and it takes everything in you to not turn around and walk out of the restaurant.
Jake Sim sits in front of you, blond hair gleaming beneath the bright white restaurant lights. He glances up at you, holding his menu and you can easily tell he’s not impressed by you turning up to the date seven minutes late.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurt, clumsily pulling out your chair and taking a seat opposite him. “I’m so sorry. Today’s been a totally shit day and -- sorry, I shouldn’t cuss. I didn’t mean to arrive late, I was super excited about this date, it’s just that my shit day --- fuck sorry. Sorry. My shit day got in the way of my time management and. I’m just. So sorry. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m sorry for turning up late.”
Jake smiles. It’s a small smile, one that barely reaches his eyes. “It’s okay. We all have our days.”
“Right.”
You both lapse into awkward silence. “I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduce yourself awkwardly, fiddling with the salt packets on the table.
“Jake Sim,” Jake responds, but you already knew that -- you know Jake Sim well. He’s a part of Enhypen. A well-known, incredibly popular frat on your college’s campus. It’s a legacy frat -- sons of college alumni always get into that frat. There have been the odd students that got into Enhypen because of their connections, but it’s usually always legacies that pledge in. Enhypen is known for many things; the hot college students living in the house, the massive parties they throw almost every weekend, and Jay Park. Everyone who goes to your college knows Jay Park. It’s hard to not know Jay Park -- but that’s another story.
Jake Sim is undeniably handsome. Big, round, warm brown eyes, cute nose, full lips, and sharp cheekbones, he has it all. Jake Sim is also undeniably wealthy, and undeniably smart. Everyone knows Jake will graduate with honors and with the top marks in his class. Everyone knows Jake will be one of the best students to graduate from their university, he’s a once-in-a-generation student. His wealth is also very highly looked upon. His father owns many corporate businesses in America, and overseas (mostly South Korea.) And Jake, himself, has a trust fund and rumor has it the trust fund is in the millions. Jake’s father and mother are legacies of your college, so it’s not a surprise Jake got early admission, and also is a part of Enhypen.
“What year are you?” Jake asks.
“I’m a first year student. Majoring in Linguistics.”
Jake hums. “I'm in my third year. Physics major.”
“I always hated anything to do with math or science in high school,” you comment, picking up the menu in front of you. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to do college-level physics.”
“I hated anything to do with English in high school,” Jake responds. “I don’t know how people can do English-related courses in college. Where would a degree in Linguistics even take you?”
“Translating jobs,” you refuse to look at Jake, some sort of frustration boiling in your blood because of Jake’s offhand comment. “Maybe editing. I could also teach English to non-English speakers. What does Physics even offer to you after post-grad?”
“I could become a NASA employee,” Jake responds. “Which I hope to be after post-grad.”
You take a peek at Jake, who is already looking at you. You smile, but it’s not a warm smile nor does it reach your eyes. “I hope you become a NASA employee as well.”
A familiar waitress stops by, ready to take your orders. After she leaves, the awkward silence is overwhelming so you reach forward and take a sip of water from the glass in front of you. “So,” Jake speaks up after a few moments. “What do you do for fun, Y/N? What are your hobbies?”
Going on a date is a way to get to know each other, so you indulge in Jake’s question. “I like to read—a lot. I love going to libraries and spending hours in them, just flipping through books or taking a seat on a beanbag and reading. I also like just staying in and hanging out with my friends, playing board games is always fun. I don’t really like going out that much.”
Jake hums, and reaches for his own drink. It’s some kind of mocktail. “What about you?” You ask Jake. “What do you do for fun?”
You find out Jake’s the complete opposite of you. He likes to go out. He likes to play sports; basketball, football, soccer, rugby, cricket, baseball. He’s probably done every sport there is. He also likes to go fishing, which you find highly unenjoyable. He’s very active, he finds comfort in exercising. And more importantly, he enjoys a good party.
“Do you drink a lot?” You ask Jake.
“Depends on the day,” Jake answers. “Why do you ask?”
You shrug. “I’m just curious. I don’t drink that much. I do enjoy a bit of white wine here and there, though.”
The conversation between you and Jake seems stilted. You can’t find any common ground -- Jake doesn’t watch many TV shows and not a lot of K-dramas. He watches movies every now and then when he finds time in his busy schedule. “I’m busy almost every day of the week,” Jake explains. “I have football practice and debate club practice, and I handle the funds of our frat since I’m the treasurer. I also pick up tutoring jobs most days.” Even his music taste doesn’t match yours. Anything from Justin Bieber to AC/DC is what Jake enjoys. Different from your own taste.
“Do you know Taylor Swift?” You ask Jake.
“I know her song, Love Story,” Jake answers.
You drop the subject of music immediately.
The food arrives, and it’s awful. You take a bite of your food and immediately regret it because the food is chewy. Very chewy and it tastes severely undercooked. While Jake happily eats his food, you’re left with pushing your food around your plate because you don’t want to cause a scene. You don’t want to make some waitress’ day awful because of your complaints about undercooked food.
Jake gives you a look as he notices you haven’t touched your plate of food.
“I’m not hungry,” you tell Jake with a grin you hope placates Jake. He just shrugs and continues on eating. The silence is unbearable and your eyes begin to burn, which leads you to reprimand yourself -- why are you tearing up? You have no right to tear up. (Or maybe you do because this date is going badly. The awkward silence refuses to go away, and the more you talk with Jake, the more you realize how little you have in common with him.)
Jake finishes eating and there’s another five-minute silence. “Wanna go get ice cream?” Jake asks. His eyes beg you to say no and you want to say no, but instead, you say “Sure!”
You follow Jake up to the counter to pay, but of course, something bad just has to happen to you. A waitress passing by trips up and spills the red wine she was carrying all over your top. You stand there, fists clenched and blinking back your tears as the waitress apologizes profusely.
“It’s okay,” you assure the waitress, waving her away. “It’s okay.” (It wasn’t okay.)
“What happened?” Jake asks you after he finishes using the voucher to pay, noticing the large red stain on your white top.
“Red wine spillage. Let’s go get ice cream.” You step out of the restaurant and wait for Jake to lead you down the street to the nearby ice cream parlor.
On the way, you once again, don’t notice a large puddle until you’re stepping in it, completely soaking your right foot -- shoes, socks, and all. You groan loudly and shake your first threateningly up at the sky, wondering what you did to make this happen to you.
“You okay?” Jake asks you, frowning slightly.
“Yeah,” you respond, blushing when you realize Jake had been watching as you cursed at the sky above.
Entering the parlor, you search your pockets for your wallet. Your movements become increasingly frantic when you can’t find it and then it hits you -- you have left your wallet on your bedside table. Jake, increasingly perceptive, notices your troubled expression. “What’s up, Y/N?”
You sigh and hang your head, mumbling, “I forgot my wallet.”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“I forgot my wallet,” you repeat louder. The silence that follows is suffocating.
Jake sighs and when you look up, he doesn’t look impressed as he says, “I’ll pay.”
“No -- it’s okay. We don’t have to get ice cream. I don’t want you to pay,” You hold your hands out, your eyes wide and the tears burn your eyes once more.
“I’ll pay,” Jake repeats, more firmly this time. “Pick what flavor you want.”
“Mint chocolate,” you say without hesitation.
Jake makes a face. “You like mint chocolate?”
“It’s the best flavor.”
Jake shudders and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
You step up to the counter, Jake gesturing for you to go first. “Can I have mint chocolate please?”
The girl behind the register smiles politely. “Sorry, we ran out of mint chocolate. Do you have another flavor you would like to try?”
You don’t know why, but that was your breaking point. You break out into sobs and the entire shop quietens, all eyes turning to you as you begin to sob at the mention of the shop having no mint chocolate ice cream. Without bothering to excuse yourself, you exit the store, sobbing louder as you stand outside in the cold with soaking wet feet, and a white top stained red.
You wonder why today of all days, the world decides to be cruel to you. Any other day would’ve been fine, but instead, on the day of your blind date with Jake Sim of all people, the world decides to unleash its fury on you.
The door slams shut behind you and you turn around, finding Jake standing in front of the entrance, a small paper cup full of ice cream in hand. You stare at him, unable to respond. Jake had still gotten ice cream, making sure to take his time, instead of coming out to check on you. Maybe you and Jake weren’t compatible in any way -- he was a T, after all, whereas you were an F.
“Jake, what the fuck--”
He steps closer, holding out the paper cup that had two spoons. You peer into the cup, seeing green ice cream with dots of occasional brown chocolate chips. Jake had gotten mint chocolate ice cream. You look at Jake, floundering for words.
“They had mint chocolate out back,” Jake informs you. “I told them to go get it.”
“You don't -- you don’t like mint chocolate though.”
Jake shrugs. “But you do. Here, you must be cold.” He slips off his jean jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Instantly, you feel warm and the awful feeling that had manifested in your gut disappears. You wipe away your tears and take the unused wooden spoon, scooping up some mint chocolate ice cream and letting it melt in your mouth.
“Thank you, Jake,” you say softly. “How could I ever repay you? You didn’t have to do this.”
“You were having a shitty day,” Jake answers with a small smile -- a small yet genuine smile. His first genuine smile of the date. “It was the least I could do.”
“Well, thank you.” You repeat.
“I know how you can repay me, Y/N,” a mischievous grin spreads across Jake’s face as he takes a step closer. There’s a change of energy in the air and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You can repay me with a kiss.”
“A kiss?”
Jake hums, nodding. “A kiss.” There’s a beat. “You can say no, though.”
“No,” you say, and Jake’s expression changes. He steps back, but instantly you’re yanking him close to you, desperate to correct the misunderstanding. “I mean. No. I don’t want to say no. I want to kiss you, Jake.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Okay,” you repeat.
Jake’s hand cups your cheek. His eyes hold yours, an intense look in them. He begins to lean in and your heart speeds up, your cheek burning beneath Jake’s touch.
“You don’t have chlamydia, do you?” You ask Jake, your voice breathless.
Jake snorts. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Jake answers with a kiss. Immediately, with your hand that isn’t holding the cup of ice cream, you grip the collar of Jake’s dress shirt. His lips are warm against yours, and he tastes like mint chocolate. You kiss back eagerly, giving in to the warmth of Jake, and the gentle probing of his tongue, sighing loudly.
“Well, well, well,” an unfamiliar voice cuts through the air. “What do we have here, little Jakey?”
Jake pulls away from you, forehead against yours as he catches his breath before turning around, his hand slipping away from your cheek and bringing all of your warmth with it. “Hyunjae,” Jake says, but he doesn’t sound happy to see the stranger.
You drink in the appearance of the stranger. You’ve never seen him in your life. But you can pick out slight similarities between Jake and this stranger -- Hyunjae. Maybe they’re related in some way, and your cheeks begin to burn a deep red.
“Did you finally settle down, Jakey?” Hyunjae remarks, not kindly.
“What’s it to you?” Jake retorts, his voice strained.
Hyunjae holds up his hands. “I’m just curious, you are my baby cousin after all. I’m very protective over you,” his eyes slide over to you and he gives you a smile that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand. “I’m Hyunjae. Jake’s cousin! We grew up together. How long have you two been dating?”
“Nice to meet you, Hyunjae,” you respond in a small voice. “But we’re not --”
“Don’t answer him, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off, sounding furious. “He’s not worth your time. Go find someone else to bother, Hyunjae. Fuck off.”
Hyunjae holds up his hands like he’s surrendering himself. “No need to get all aggressive, Jakey.” He then winks your way. “I look forward to seeing you around, Y/N.”
Hyunjae walks past you and Jake, sending one last smile over his shoulder. The smile feels like a warning.
You turn to Jake, looking for answers. You find him scuffing his shoe along the ground and mumbling curses under his breath. “Uh, Jake?” You poke his shoulder and he turns to you as if he was only just realizing you were next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Did you drive here?” Jake asks you.
“Uh, no. Ricky dropped me off. Why?”
“Can I take you home?”
You don’t know why your heart drops to your gut. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
“Great.” Jake takes your hand into his and pulls you in the direction of his car. You quickly dump the melted ice cream into a nearby trash can and try to keep up with Jake’s rapid footsteps. Jake’s car is a car you expected from someone like him; a flashy black Lexus.
When you are in the safety of Jake’s car, Jake turns to face you and inhales sharply. He doesn’t make any move to turn on the car. “That was my cousin, Hyunjae,” Jake says. “He’s the fucking worst. I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone as much as I hate Hyunjae, and it’s just my luck that he stumbles upon us on a date. Look, Y/N, I know we’ve just met, and I know this date went awful, and I probably don’t have the honor of asking this; but do you want to be my girlfriend?”
You stare at Jake, taken aback. A high-pitched, broken, “What?” Escapes your mouth.
“Not -- not a real girlfriend of course, just. Just a fake one. Let’s fake date. I know Hyunjae, and I know he’s already spreading the news about you and me to everyone in my family. And when it comes to my family --” Jake shakes his head. “It’s best if we fake date for a bit.”
You blink rapidly, trying to take everything in. The past few minutes have gone by so fast -- one moment you were crying because of how awful this day was, then you were wrapped up in Jake’s arms, kissing him, and the next you were watching Jake fight with his cousin and now. And now you’re being asked by Jake to fake date him. “What -- what do I get from this?” You respond. “Say I agree. What’s in it for me?”
Jake obviously wasn’t expecting that kind of response. It takes a while for him to respond to you. “I’ll do anything you ask,” Jake responds. “If you need to be picked up, I’ll pick you up. If you need to be dropped off somewhere, I’ll drop you off.” You don’t respond, thinking over Jake’s offer, but he takes the silence as your rejection so he adds desperately; “I’ll pay you.”
“You’ll -- you’ll pay me?” You look at Jake, gobsmacked.
“I’ll pay you.” Jake nods.
“Tell me why you need us to date this badly,” you tell Jake.
“Look, my family -- they’re not a normal family. All wealthy families aren’t normal. Mine -- they’re all competitive with each other. If one kid gets a high grade, everyone else’s kids must get a higher grade or else they aren’t worthy of having the last name ‘Sim’.” Jake explains. “Our family is not kind to each other. And when it comes to dating,” Jake sighs. “Breaking up with your significant other is the worst thing you could do. My relatives view breaking up as a sign of incompetence, a sign that you aren’t fit to take over the family business. It’s stupid, I know, and the last time I brought someone home, it ended in a disaster and -- and I want to prove them wrong. I want to show them that I can have a lasting relationship, and finally make my family proud of me.”
“What a fucked up family,” you respond in disbelief. “They really view breaking up that way? What, would they rather you cheat on your significant other while in a relationship?” Jake’s silence is your answer and you stare at Jake with wide eyes. “You’re joking. Right?”
Jake shakes his head.
“Would you -- would you cheat on me if I agreed?” You don’t know why you sound vulnerable.
Jake shakes his head aggressively, reaching for your hands. “No. No. I don’t -- I don’t like cheating. Or cheaters. That’s the lowest thing someone can do.”
“Okay,” you nod your head. “Why do you hate Hyunjae so much? Is it just because of the family rivalry?”
Jake sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. You try to not let that distract you from the situation at hand. “Well, yes. The rivalry doesn’t exactly help me have loving relationships with my family members but -- my previous girlfriend cheated on me with Hyunjae. They’re still dating now, and I always see her at family dinners and I just. I just want to prove to both of them that I can move on -- that I have moved on.”
You let Jake’s explanation simmer for a while. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your girlfriend -- fake girlfriend.”
Jake grins, squeezing your hands. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” Silence fills the car and you sigh. “We need to map out the timeline of our relationship, sort out what are the dos and don’ts of this relationship, and how we will deal with the pieces we’re supposed to write about our blind date for the school magazine.”
Jake nods his head.
“I went out on a blind date last week,” you inform Jake. “It was Saturday. Soobin Choi. So we have had to meet after that.”
“Soobin Choi?” Jake gives you a look. “You don’t look like the type of girl to go for Soobin Choi.”
You scowl. “My friend set it up for me. And don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll ever be a Soobin Choi girl.”
“Who knows you went on this blind date?” Jake asks you. “Other than the people who arranged this for us.”
“Wonyoung Jang.”
“Wonyoung? You’re friends with Wonyoung?”
You nod your head and Jake grins. “My friend, Sunghoon Park? Do you know him? Anyway, he has a huge crush on Wonyoung.”
You giggle. “I think Wonyoung likes him back. They’ve been texting a lot recently.”
Jake gasps. “That’s who he’s been texting? That motherfucker wouldn’t tell me who it was.” Jake cracks his neck, “I’m so going to get him when I get home.” He then turns to you. “Only Jay and Sunoo know about the blind date. Do you think Wonyoung can keep quiet about how we actually met?”
You nod your head. “She loves keeping secrets.”
“Great,” Jake nods his head. “We threw a party last week on Saturday. What if you said you stopped by after the date?”
“Soobin dropped me back home, though,” you respond. “And lots of people saw me enter the dorm.”
“What about after?” Jake asks.
“I guess that could work. Wonyoung is a party girl. She could’ve taken me out to party after the date that ended in disaster, and I met you there.”
Jake nods his head. “I think that’s believable.”
“But didn’t you get screamed at by a girl for giving her chlamydia that night?”
Jake grins. “So that’s why you asked if I had chlamydia.”
“Whatever,” you huff.
“We’ll say we comforted each other about our shitty nights and knew then that we had a connection. I asked you out, and you said yes. What did you do Monday night?”
“I had classes until 4 PM.”
Jake nods his head. “I had football practice until five, and then I drove myself around for a few hours. Decompressing after a shit practice. I got McDonalds. You can’t go wrong with McDonalds after working off all the fat gathered up from having too much McDonalds.” Jake shakes his head in amusement at himself. “I could say I took you out then, but we didn’t go to McDonalds.”
“We went to the rollerskating rink,” you suggest. “I’ve always wanted to go on a date there.”
“Okay,” Jake nods his head.
“Hey what if -- what if we admit to dating each other on the pieces we write about our blind date?”
Jake looks at you, confused.
“I applied for the blind date on Saturday. Before I “left” for Enha’s party. And I got the notification that I’d been chosen on Wednesday. After we supposedly began dating. We could say we mentioned that we applied for this blind date thing to each other, and realized we were the two people chosen. Doesn’t that sound believable?”
“That works. I applied for the blind date on Friday.” Jake’s smile slowly grows. “This is all working out!”
“That way, we won’t really be lying about the blind date if someone asks,” you tell Jake.
Jake holds his hand up for a high five. You slap it, sharing an excited grin with Jake. Everything was falling into place. “OK, we have our story settled, now are there any boundaries you want to mention? Though, if we want to keep this believable I have to be able to kiss you. On the lips. A lot.” Jake looks shy as he mentions this. “I’m -- I’m a very affectionate boyfriend. Or hook up. I like to kiss, so we’re gonna have to kiss a lot.”
Your heart leaps to your throat. Kissing Jake on the lips whenever he felt like it? You would be stupid to not agree. “That’s fine,” you hope you come across as calm at the thought of kissing Jake. “I don’t mind. I don’t really have anything to mention-- except when should we break up?”
“Uh.”
“What about my birthday? February 14th. That gives us...A month and a bit of dating.”
“You were born on Valentine's Day?” Jake asks in awe.
You nod your head. “Yeah. Does that sound good?”
Jake nods his head. “For sure.” Then he frowns, biting his lip once again. You’re beginning to hate it when he does that because it only makes you want to kiss him. “Do you…Do you think you could come to every party Enhypen throws?”
“Why?”
“Heeseung’s girlfriend, Yunjin, always comes to our parties even though she’s not a partier herself.”
You shrug, thinking of Wonyoung always telling you to go out and live your life. “Why not?”
“And pet names? Do you like them? Baby? Babe? Pookie Pie?”
You shove Jake. “Pet names are cute. As long as they don’t go overboard, like Pookie Pie, or muffin, or anything relating to food.”
“Okay,” Jake holds out his hand for you to shake. “One last time; are you sure you want to be my fake girlfriend?”
“Yes,” you respond. “I have to tell Wonyoung about this, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine,” Jake says, shaking your hand tightly. “I have to tell Jay and Sunoo anyway. I’ll pick you up at nine tomorrow? For the party? Wonyoung can come too.”
You agree. “Alright, I’ll take you home now.”
The drive home is filled with Jake’s Justin Bieber playlist. You decide that your first course of action as Jake’s fake girlfriend will be to change his choice in music. You will craft him a playlist to use whenever you’re in the car with him, so you can both listen to tunes you both enjoy.
After exchanging numbers, you hug Jake goodbye and fly up to your dorm, eagerly bursting in and scaring the shit out of Wonyoung.
“Wonyoung,” you exclaim, heaving for air, “you will never believe what just happened.”
—-
jake 🤍
5 mins away :)
After you receive Jake’s text, you send yourself into a frenzy, pacing your small dorm with Wonyoung sitting on her bed, watching. “Oh my god, this is a mistake. I should’ve never agreed to fake date Jake. Fuck.” You look at Wonyoung, halting your pacing. “I fucked up badly and you’re not going to say anything?”
Wonyoung smiles at you. “I think this will be a good thing, Y/N. Think optimistically! Who knows, you could develop lifelong friendships because of this.”
You cuss out Wonyoung and resume your pacing, jumping at every loud sound. You weren’t prepared for tonight -- how were you supposed to act like you were in love with Jake when you literally only met and talked to him yesterday? You weren’t an actor, and you were a terrible liar.
Your phone buzzes. “He’s here,” you tell Wonyoung. “Can’t I tell him I’m feeling sick?”
Wonyoung shakes her head, sliding off her bed and throwing you the leather jacket you took from Youngeun. “No, put that on, and let’s go get fucking wasted!” Wonyoung cheers loudly and you roll your eyes, tugging the leather jacket over your red corset top.
Jake was scrolling through his phone when you walked up to his car. You rap your knuckles against the window and Jake looks up, breaking out into a grin when he sees you. You walk around to the passenger’s side and slide into the car, hearing whispers of Justin Bieber playing in the background.
“Good evening,” Jake greets. “You look nice.”
Your hands fiddle with your short black skirt, trying to stop the blush from heating up your cheeks. “It’s nothing,” you respond, “just something Wonyoung picked out for me.”
At the mention of Wonyoung, Jake turns to look behind him, grinning at Wonyoung. “Hey, I’m Jake. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sunghoon talks about you a lot.”
You watch Wonyoung blush. “I hope it’s good things.”
Jake giggles. “It’s only ever good things about you, don’t worry.” He then settles back down and looks at you. “Are you ready, Y/N? You can back out if you want, there’s always another party you could go to.”
You shake your head. “I’m fine. Let me play some music, though, enough Justin Bieber.”
Jake drives you and Wonyoung back to his frat to the tune of One Direction’s discography. You were surprised to find out Jake knew most of One Direction’s songs. You’d finally found common ground with Jake, and your chest warms at the thought.
The street is packed with cars, and late party-goers walking on the road, but with skilled ease, Jake maneuvers his way to the frat and parks the car up the driveway without a hitch. The music dies along with the car and is replaced with bass-booming music. The whole frat looks like it’s shaking. Jake turns to you and smiles, “I have some things to check up on, so take your time, alright? I’ll get you in a few minutes.” With a wink, he climbs out of his car and races into the frat, dapping up a few guys on the way in.
Immediately, your nerves skyrocket. You began to second-guess yourself, and your fingers returned to fiddle with the edge of your skirt. Noticing your nerves, Wonyoung speaks up, reaching through the gap between the driver and passenger seat for your hand. “You got this, Y/N. You better become an Oscar-winning actress as soon as you step out of this car. Your whole college career depends on this exact moment.”
You scowl at Wonyoung, pinching her wrist. “Some best friend you are,” you huff.
“Tough love,” Wonyoung shrugs.
“Tough love my ass.”
“Look, Y/N, I’ll be by your side the entire night --”
“--Don’t lie, Wony --”
“--For most of the night. But, you’ll be fine. You work well under pressure and remember, if in doubt, just kiss the life out of Jake. Making out is the best way to draw and lose attention simultaneously.”
Jake appears suddenly, knocking on the window and beckoning you out. Wonyoung climbs out first, striking up a conversation with Jake as you work up the nerves to exit Jake’s car. After inhaling and exhaling a few times, you open the car door and step out.
The music is much louder now. The shouting and cheers of already drunk party goers fill the air, and everywhere you look, there is a girl in a short dress, or a short skirt, much like yourself and Wonyoung. “I’ll see you inside, Y/N. In the kitchen, getting a drink.” Wonyoung squeezes your shoulder and walks across the lawn, smiling at a few people whom you’ve never seen interact with Wonyoung in your life.
Next to you, Jake touches your shoulders and turns you to face him. His smile is warm and it soothes your nerves. “Just stay by my side, alright? Stand next to me and look pretty, that’s easy, right?”
You smile. “I suppose.”
“Great,” Jake kisses your forehead and intertwines your hands together. He squeezes once, and then leads you across the lawn, pausing every now and then to talk to unfamiliar faces to you, but familiar faces to him. Eventually, you reach the frat and Jake pauses, looking at you for assurance before pushing forward.
His grip on your hand becomes firmer as he guides you through the large crowd of people filling the frat. Loud voices shout in your ear, and sweaty bodies knock up against your own. You begin to grow hot beneath Youngeun’s leather jacket.
You and Jake reach the kitchen, and you see Wonyoung standing with your friends. Warmth floods you and the nerves dissipate. Jake leads you over to the counter swimming in red cups and assortments of alcoholic drinks, along with some kind of alcoholic punch.
“Jungwon wanted to try making some weird alcoholic punch,” Jake informs you, bending down to shout his words against your ear. “I would suggest avoiding it. What do you want to drink?”
Jake offers his ear to you, still bending slightly so he is able to hear you over the music. “A White Claw. Black cherry flavor.”
Jake nods his head, drawing away. “Got it, Y/N.” he kisses your cheek. “I see your friends eyeing you. Go talk to them while I scavenge for some White Claws.”
You approach your friends, a blush rising to your cheeks as they all give you a knowing look. “Were you just with Jake Sim?” Yoon practically shouts, her cheeks already a bright red, courtesy of the red cup she holds in her hand. “Were you holding hands?”
“He kissed your cheek, Y/N!” Jiwon exclaims, her eyes wide and dimples appearing as she shouts at you. “What the fuck?”
You blush and dip your head. You felt self-conscious for whatever reason. “We’re dating,” you say loudly, avoiding eye contact. All of your friends, bar Wonyoung, gasp loudly and their voices clamber to be heard over the voice of Nicki Minaj rapping in the song Beauty and the Beat.
“When the fuck did this happen?!” Hikaru exclaims.
“Monday,” you respond.
There’s more shouting and you look to Wonyoung for guidance. She gives you an assuring smile and a small bout of confidence surges through your veins. “We met at a party last week,” you continue to explain. “Wonyoung brought me after my failed date with Soobin.”
“I can’t believe you managed to get cuffed -- and by Jake Sim at that,” Yoon explains, astonished.
You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean, Yoon?”
“Oh! No offense to you!” Yoon says, realizing how awful her words sounded. “It’s just -- ever since he broke up with his last girlfriend, Jake’s been known to just sleep around. He hasn’t been in a committed relationship in a year and a half.” Yoon eyes you carefully, “just. Be careful, Y/N, I don’t want him to break your heart. You’re very precious. Too innocent for his kind of world.”
“I’ll be fine, Yoon,” you say to the girl, breaking out into a smile. “Jake takes care of me well.” You peer over your shoulder, catching sight of Jake leaning against the counter, chatting up a girl who grins, leaning forward to run her hand up his arm. Your heart drops and hurt immediately floods your chest.
You guess you spoke too soon.
Or not.
Jake catches your eye. “Hey, baby!” He shouts, drawing the attention of the girl sliding her hand up his arm, and everyone in the kitchen. “You wanted a black cherry white claw, right?” He holds up the can and winks.
You smile back. “That’s the one I wanted! I knew I could count on you, Jake!” The girl immediately retracts her hand, and the kitchen breaks out into loud voices, all saying the exact same thing -- Jake’s with Y/N?
You excuse yourself from your group of friends, who all grin at you, and bound over to Jake who is waiting for you. Without thinking it through, you rise to your toes, wrap a hand around the back of Jake’s neck, and bring him in for a kiss, savoring the feeling of Jake’s lips against yours.
You grab the white claw from Jake after the kiss, crack it open, and take a long sip. The alcohol cools you down immediately. “What was that for?” Jake asks you, amusement highlighting his face.
You shrug, not sure if your cheeks were hot because of the leather jacket you were wearing, or because you kissed Jake without thinking. “Just felt like it.”
Jake scoffs and leans down, stealing a kiss for himself.
“What was that for?” You ask him, repeating his words.
Jake repeats your own words, coupling it with a shrug as well. “Just felt like it.”
“I’m feeling hot,” you admit to Jake, “Is there anywhere I could put my leather jacket?”
“You could put it in my room.”
You give Jake a look and he snorts. “There was no other intention behind those words. We can just deposit your jacket in my room, and then join the party. Perhaps go dancing? Or we could socialize. It’s up to you, really. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
If you were able to see yourself, you think you would find stars in your eyes as you follow Jake out of the kitchen, his hand tightly gripping your own.
It’s well after one in the morning when you find yourself kissing Jake on one of the many couches in the frat. His arm is wrapped lazily around your waist as he keeps you close, his lips moving against yours in tandem. You explore Jake’s mouth with a vigor you didn’t even know you had, and you happily relish in the taste of the vodka shots Jake had encouraged you to take moments before you pulled him in for a kiss, which led to your fourth makeout session ever.
Someone clears their throat loudly and you and Jake break apart, chests heaving and eyes unable to look away. You’re the first to avert eye contact, looking at the stranger in front of you. The silver hair is immediately recognizable. Sunghoon Park towers over you and Jake, with Wonyoung gripping his bicep tightly, swaying slightly. She looked dazed.
“You’re Y/N?” Sunghoon looks to you for confirmation.
You nod your head, feeling as if you were floating. You’re pretty sure you’re tipsy. “Who’s asking?”
“Wony’s a bit drunk.” The use of Wonyoung’s nickname doesn’t slip past you. Nickname terms, huh? You think to yourself. “I think she should go home.”
“I’ll take them home,” Jake says, draping an arm over your shoulder and pulling you back against him, your body flush against his. “I’m the sober driver for tonight.”
Sunghoon snorts. “I totally believe you.”
Jake scowls. “Scout’s honor! I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol.”
“I’ll believe you. Get Wonyoung home safely.”
“Aye Aye captain,” Jake salutes, and Sunghoon whispers something to Wonyoung, who smiles and nods her head. Jake pushes himself off the couch, and then helps you up, giving you a gentle smile and moving hair out of your eyes.
Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jake says, “Let’s get you home, Y/N.”
—-
You were still reeling from the party on Saturday. You don’t know what overcame you -- maybe it was the alcohol invading your bloodstream and the fact that all the attention was on you, that made you kiss Jake and cling to him while you danced.
Your phone lights up with another text from Jake. You had texted him throughout Sunday. He checked in a few times on Sunday, making sure you were feeling okay. Jake’s care for you made your heart expand times ten, but you had to remind yourself that this was all fake -- that none of this was real.
jake 🤍
Where are you?
you
library
in one of the study rooms
jake 🤍
What room?
you
third floor, twenty one A
jake 🤍
Ok. See you soon ❤️
Your heart pounds in your throat. You weren’t sure what you were going to do when Jake turns up in your study room with a large smile and hopeful brown eyes. He arrives quicker than you expected, opening the door and grinning at you.
“Hey Y/N,” he greets, slipping into the chair beside you.
“Hi,” you greet back quietly, focusing on your laptop in front of you. Silence embraces the room and your leg shakes beneath the table. You didn’t know how to work around Jake. He was an enigma. He was a puzzle -- a one thousand-piece puzzle that would take hours, if not days to figure out. He was a puzzle that came in a blank box with no photo to show you what the puzzle was supposed to look like.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt suddenly, unable to handle the silence. “I’m sorry about Saturday. I don’t know how to handle myself around you. I don’t know how to do relationships because I’ve never been in one, especially a fake one at that. It’s just -- it’s just so hard and confusing and I feel lost and. And. I’m sorry if I did anything weird or wrong or --”
“Y/N,” Jake interrupts your ramble. “You apologize too much.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Jake gives you a look and you avert your eyes.
“It’s okay, Y/N. You didn’t do anything wrong on Saturday. You were fine. I guess I’m also at fault for partially pushing you to join me at the party when we really haven’t spent any time together outside of that one blind date.” Jake reaches for your hands. “I’m here to help you, Y/N, we can work out how this fake relationship works together. First, you have to tell me a little bit more about yourself. Like, we should ask each other deep-hitting questions.”
You look at Jake and return his smile. “What are these deep-hitting questions?”
Jake hums in thought. “Like…What’s your favorite color?”
You snicker. “That’s a deep-hitting question?”
Jake nods his head, dead serious. “So? Your favorite color?”
“I like yellow,” you respond.
“Alright. Yellow. Any particular reason?”
You shake your head. “It’s a nice color. Warm color. Happy color. What’s your favorite color?”
“Red,” Jake responds. “No particular reason, like you. I just like how it looks. Not bright red, though, a dark deep red. Maroon is a nice color as well.” Jake reaches for another question. “What’s your family like?”
“I have a mom and younger sister. My dad passed away when I was young,” you tell Jake, your voice taking on a gentler tone. “My mom is my biggest inspiration. I look up to her a lot. She raised my sister and I all on her own. I was three when my dad passed, and my younger sister was one. I don’t really have many memories of my father, but I have plenty of my mother never giving up. She’s the reason I’m where I am now. She sacrificed everything for me.”
“She sounds amazing,” Jake responds, his tone matching your gentle one.
“She is. I talk to her and my younger sister every day.”
“How old is your younger sister?”
“She’s fifteen. She’s a freshman. Her name is Myeong.” You tilt your head as you look at Jake. “What about you? What’s your family like?”
“My mom and dad are…very pushy and controlling. My dad wants me to graduate and take over the family business, and my mom is very eager for grandkids before she dies. They’re only proud of me when I accomplish something big, and my mom likes -- or well, used to control everything about my life when I was living under her roof.” Jake sighs, “but my older brother, he’s the only person I love in my family. He was always there for me, and always protected me. I love him a lot.”
Jake shifts in his chair and straightens his posture. “Ouch. I just brought the mood down. Sorry. Your mother and sister sound like fun.”
“It’s okay, Jake,” you comfort the older boy. “And yes. They’re very fun to be around. I can’t wait to spend winter break with them.”
“Right, winter break is next week.” Jake hunches back over. “I have to spend Christmas with my family. It’s not gonna be fun, especially since everyone has caught wind of our relationship.”
“You can do this, Jake,” you tell him with an encouraging grin, “If you need to escape though, call me and I’ll pretend to be having a meltdown so you can come over to mine for some reprieve. We usually watch all the Santa Clause movies after our Christmas dinner.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jake says, “are you hungry?”
You nod your head. “I was about to ask you if you wanted to take me to get some churros.”
“Right!” Jake stands as you begin to pack up your things. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for your bank details. I need to pay you.”
You look at Jake and frown. “I don’t want your money, Jake, seriously. It’s okay to not pay me.”
Jake shakes his head. “I feel bad for using you like this, though, Y/N. Please let me pay you, it’ll help ease my guilty consciousness for getting you involved in this mess.”
You sigh. “Fine. But I’m moving all the money you give me to a different account and not spending a single dollar.”
“That’s fine, as long as I’m able to pay you.”
After zipping up your bag, you pull out your phone and give Jake your bank details. “Now that that’s finished, I have something to tell you,” You step out of the study room with Jake trailing behind you. You let Jake fall into step beside you, and reach for his hand. “I’m thinking of making you a playlist to play whenever you drive me around because I’m planning on taking advantage of having you at my mercy.”
Jake smiles down at you. There’s a hint of fondness hidden in that smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Y/N. What songs were you thinking of putting on the playlist?”
“I’m keeping Justin Bieber off,” you retort jokingly.
Jake gasps and wretches his hand out of yours. You giggle and pout, reaching for Jake’s hand. “I was joking! You’re such a baby, Jakey poo.” You reach up to pinch his cheeks and Jake bats your hand away, intertwining your hands back together instead.
“It’ll be a surprise,” you tell Jake as the elevator doors open. “But I’m making sure it’s songs that both of us will enjoy because I’m such a great girlfriend.”
Jake rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his fondness. “Of course you are, baby.” His eyes light up as if a light bulb went off above his head. “By the way, happy one week!” He kisses your cheek.
You roll your eyes. “Sap.”
“Only for you,” Jake responds.
—-
A few days later, you’re staring at a large frat. It’s your first time seeing the Enhypen frat up close during the daytime. You wouldn’t even be able to tell Enhypen throws massive raging parties from judging the outside appearance of the frat. The grass is neatly cut, and the bushes growing around the perimeter are groomed to near perfection. Someone obviously has a bit of a green thumb in the frat.
You walk up the porch steps and knock on the bright red door that feels rough beneath your knuckles. It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing Jungwon Yang. You know quite a bit about Jungwon Yang, since Wonyoung grew up with Jungwon and you’re Wonyoung’s best friend. It surprises you how many mutual friends you and Jungwon share, yet you’ve never once spoken to him.
“Hey, Y/N,” Jungwon greets, pulling the door open wider to allow you in. “Jake’s in his room.”
“Hey, Jungwon,” you greet back, letting the boy shut the door behind you. You slide off your shoes and straighten up. “Where is Jake’s room?”
“I’ll show you. How are your classes going?” Jungwon makes conversation as he leads you through the spacious frat. It’s clear to you that this is a legacy frat. Everything screams wealth. You feel sorely out of place, but you’ll prefer to keep these thoughts to yourself.
“They’re going good. A lot of work, but I like it. It keeps me busy.”
“I’ve never been this busy,” Jungwon says with a small smile. He climbs the stairs, you following closely behind. “Didn’t you go to Jake’s room during the last party?”
“I don’t remember,” you admit sheepishly. “That whole night feels like a fever dream. I was really nervous the entire time.”
Jungwon nods his head. “You know, from what Won told me about you, I never expected you and Jake to date. You two seem like total opposites. I hope you don’t take offense.”
“None taken,” you tell Jungwon. “And I have to admit, I felt the same way, but somehow the words ring true; opposites do attract. We work well with each other.” You don’t know where this load of bullshit was coming from, but anything to make Jungwon believe what you have with Jake is real.
The door to the bathroom swings open and Sunoo Kim steps out. Your heart pounds in your ears as Sunoo’s sharp eyes latch onto your figure. The older boy genuinely intimidates you. His facial features are incredibly sharp, and his words are even sharper. He holds grudges for a long time, and he’s a known gossiper. Sunoo’s reputation across campus is an intimidating one, but you also know from Wonyoung that he’s one of the nicest, kindest, and cutest boys she knows. “Don’t let his resting bitch face scare you,” Wonyoung advised. “He’s just fiercely loyal and protective of his friends, that’s why he has that reputation.”
“Hello, Y/N,” Sunoo says.
“Hey, Sunoo.” Your hands begin to sweat. God, sorry Wonyoung, you think. But Sunoo scares me.
“Here to see Jake?” Sunoo asks you, not unkindly.
You nod your head. “He invited me over to study. I have a test tomorrow.”
“I don’t think you’ll get much studying done with Jake,” Sunoo states, and once again, he wasn’t being mean or judgy. It just seems like a simple observational statement -- he knows Jake better than you, having grown up with the older boy. “Keep the noise down.”
Your cheeks flush and Jungwon snorts. “No need to be so bitchy, Sunoo.”
“Sunghoon used up all my face wash,” Sunoo groans, his face transforming into a pout you’ve never seen the boy wear. He looks extremely soft and squishable and Wonyoung’s words about Sunoo bounce around your head. Maybe you truly don’t have a reason to be so afraid of the older boy.
Immediately, your hand goes for the shoulder bag you were carrying, and you pull out the newly bought face wash that was haphazardly lying about. “Here,” you hold out your face wash. “Take this.”
Sunoo stares at your outstretched hand. “We use the same face wash brand! Do you just carry your face wash around with you everywhere?” Sunoo’s gaze pierces your soul and you immediately flush bright red. You really need to get your blushing situation under control.
“I -- I don’t carry it around with me. I just stopped by the quick mart on the way here to buy it since I had run out of it. But here, you can take it. I’ll just buy another on my way home.”
“Really?” Sunoo asks.
“Yes,” you shake the face wash in the air. “Take it.”
Sunoo’s face splits into a grin, completely transforming all his sharp edges into soft edges. Sunoo’s truly a different person when he smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re very kind.”
“It’s nothing,” you mumble.
A door at the end of the hall is wrenched open and Jake pops his head out, eyes focusing on the group of three standing around the bathroom. “What’s taking you so long?” Jake groans. “I miss my girlfriend. Stop hogging her.”
“Whatever Jake,” Sunoo scoffs. He steps back into the bathroom. “I hope to see you around often, Y/N,” Sunoo tells you with a smile, and then he shuts the bathroom door.
“There’s Jake’s room,” Jungwon tells you, pointing to Jake. “Play some music if you’re going to do something other than studying.” Jungwon leaves you a blushing mess in the middle of the hallway.
“Y/N!” Jake calls, beckoning you over eagerly.
With quick steps, you reach Jake in milliseconds. Jake grins down at you and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Pulling away, you look at Jake with a frown. “What was that for? There’s no one around.”
Jake pulls you into his room in lieu of an answer, shutting the door with a thump. “Was Sunoo nice to you?”
You nod your head and drop your shoulder bag onto Jake’s desk. “I gave him my face wash. I think I scored some points with him for that.”
“You had face wash in your bag?” Jake asks, grabbing his football and leaping onto his bed, beginning to throw the football up into the air and catching it.
“I bought some on the way over. I was running out,” you answer, pulling out the chair at Jake’s desk and taking a seat. “Are you going to study?”
“Eventually,” Jake responds. “Did you finish making that playlist?” He pushes himself into a sitting position, gripping the football tightly and displaying an excited expression on his face.
You can’t help but smile. “I did. Want to see?”
Jake nods his head, his blond hair flopping messily. You pull out your phone, unlock it and pull up the Spotify playlist, handing your phone over to Jake. “You can scroll through as I study,” you tell Jake. “Let me know what you think. I added a lot of songs.”
“Woah. Forty-eight hours,” Jake looks at you. “That is a lot of songs.”
You grin, running a hand through your hair to tie it up. “I guess that means you’re legally obliged to hang out with me for forty-eight hours.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Jake grins back.
Silence embraces the room and for once, it’s not awkward. You easily get enraptured in your studying, hearing Jake ooh or ahh or let out a small giggle as he scrolls through the playlist you made solely for Jake to play whenever you’re in the car with him.
After some time, Jake finally speaks up. “I really like the playlist, Y/N.”
You spin around in Jake’s desk chair. “Really?”
Jake nods his head. “I can’t wait to play it.”
“I’m glad. It took me a couple of days to curate. I’m happy you like it.”
“Of course, you made it, Y/N, so that means I’ll like it instantly.”
You groan and fall back into the desk chair. “Shut the fuck up, Jake.” Your tone was clearly teasing, and you’re glad Jake is able to make out the teasing because he laughs loudly.
“Was Jungwon nice to you as well?” Jake asks as he places your phone back on his desk. “Because sometimes he says shit without realizing how harsh it is.”
“He was nice as well, no need to fret, Jake. If they’re your friends I like them immediately.”
As you wait for Jake’s response, a loud banging sound floats through the air, followed by someone shouting a familiar name. “HEESEUNG!” Someone shouts after banging loudly. It’s quiet for a few seconds before the banging and shouting start again.
Jake groans and you leap up to open his door, curious to see who was making a ruckus. You scan the hallway and catch sight of a young boy who was incredibly tall. His blond hair glows brightly and he has a baseball bat and glove tucked beneath the arm that wasn’t doing the knocking.
“Cut it out, Riki,” Jake groans exasperatedly.
“No. He didn’t show up to play baseball with me,” Riki grumbles, continuing to smack the door.
“He spent his entire night revising his thesis with Jeongin and Beomgyu,” Jake responds. “Let him rest.”
Riki finally looks over at Jake, ready to respond, but when he sees you everything seems to pause. Riki stops smacking the door and the words poised at the tip of his tongue slide off. “Woah, is that Y/N? Your girlfriend?” He squints and assesses you. “You could do better than Jake, you know, Y/N.”
“Riki you better shut the fuck up,” Jake threatens.
“You play baseball?” You ask Riki.
“What does it look like?” Riki responds snappily.
“Riki,” hisses Jake.
“Yes,” Riki responds, his tone much nicer albeit exaggerating for Jake’s sake. “I play baseball.”
“That’s cool. Could I play with you?”
“What?” Riki looks bemused like he’d never thought you would offer to play baseball with him.
“Heeseung’s obviously sleeping and you probably shouldn’t disturb him because writing a thesis is hell on earth, so why not play catch with me? I used to play softball for my high school.”
“Softball and baseball are different, though,” Riki deadpans.
“Not really,” you shrug, stepping out of Jake’s room. “The only differences are the gloves, balls, bats, and how you throw the pitches. Other than that, everything is the same. In fact, I used to play baseball with the kids in my neighborhood, and with my cousins whenever I hung out with my family.”
“But you don’t have a glove.”
“I do,” Jake says. “Just play with her, Riki.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs. We’ll head to the baseball pitch.” Riki slinks down the stairs and you pop back into Jake’s room, watching the older boy rummage around for his baseball glove.
“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” Jake tells you.
“I want to,” you reply, “if it gives Heeseung more time to rest and keeps Riki distracted -- by the way who even is Riki?”
Jake finds his baseball glove with a triumphant smile. He chucks it to you as he says, “Some kid we picked up off the street. You better hurry downstairs, Riki doesn’t like to be kept waiting. He’s very impatient.” Then, with a shake of his head, Jake mutters, “Teenagers.”
“Aren’t you gonna come down?” You ask Jake. “It would be nice to have you with us.”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys there. I need to find my cap.”
“Alright, see ya soon baby,” you salute Jake and walk out of his room, bounding down the stairs and finding Rik waiting for you. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” you tell the boy, hurriedly slipping on your shoes.
Riki shrugs. “It’s fine.”
You step out of the house and walk to the baseball pitch in silence. You find out the baseball pitch is only a few minutes away from the Enhypen frat. It was built next to a park, so there were a few kids playing on the playground.
“You’re Jake’s new girlfriend, huh?” Riki finally says something as you both warm up. You don’t know how you’re going to play baseball with Riki, so you just follow whatever warm-ups he does.
“Yeah,” you respond. “And you’re his friend?”
“Obviously.”
“How old are you?”
“I turned eighteen last week on Friday.”
Your eyes widen. “Oh shit, Jake and I went out last Friday. Sorry for stealing him from you.”
Riki shrugs. “It’s chill. We hung out before and after his date.” You lapse into silence once more. “I like you better than his previous girlfriend,” Riki takes you by surprise as he grabs his bat and practices swinging a few times. “She was really rude. You’re not rude.”
“Thank you?”
“She never played baseball. Always said it would ruin her manicure.” He glances at your nails. “Aren’t you afraid of ruining your manicure?”
“I’m going to my nail tech next week. I don’t really care. Plus it gets tiring wiping your ass with a manicure sometimes.”
Riki stares at you and you immediately regret saying what you said seconds ago. Riki snorts, “You’re so much better than Francesa. She hated it when we would have farting contests.”
You stare at Riki in disbelief. This kid you think. “You’re still in high school aren’t you?”
“What gave it away?” Riki asks.
“You’re still having fart contests.”
Riki scowls.
—-
“Do you have to throw a party for literally every single accomplishment?” You ask Jake, finding yourself back at Enhypen on a Saturday night. Wonyoung was dancing with Sunghoon on the dance floor while you and Jake rested against one of the walls, observing the party.
“Throwing parties is fun, Y/N,” Jake responds. “Especially if you’re celebrating the end of exam week and the start of winter break.”
“I guess celebrating the end of exam week is worth throwing a party.” You sip the alcoholic drink Jake got for you, and watch as Wonyoung laughs over something Sunghoon said. “Wanna go to your room?”
Jake raises his eyebrows and you roll your eyes. “You look tired, Jake, and you aren’t engaging in conversations like you usually do at parties. Let’s just go to your room to talk for a bit.”
“Alright,” Jake shrugs, taking your hand and pulling you up the stairs. You ignore the looks that are being thrown your way. Not everything is about getting laid.
Entering Jake’s bedroom, some sense of comfort embraces you and you feel relieved at the sudden change in environment. Everything feels much nicer in Jake’s room, even if you could still hear the music, albeit muffled.
“What did you want to talk about?” Jake asks, as you both peel off your shoes and slip beneath his light blue comforter, legs immediately tangling beneath it.
“Tell me about your childhood,” you answer. “You haven’t really told me anything.”
“Of course. You’ll tell me about yours after?”
“Any questions you have, I’ll answer honestly,” you grin.
“I would say my childhood was like any other, but I was born into a wealthy family with a trust fund already waiting for me when I turned eighteen,” Jake starts off, making you giggle lightly. “I don’t necessarily have a lot of happy memories of my childhood. But the ones I have only mostly involve my older brother, Jaehyun.”
“What’s your happiest memory with him?”
“Probably when I was six and he was ten, our nanny took us down to the beach. I remember staying at the beach for hours at a time whenever we went. There was also this small forest of trees a little bit further down the beach, and my brother and I would always explore in the small forest, picking up sticks and pretending to hunt down aliens that were planning to take over the world. Time always slipped away from us.”
You watch as Jake floats away from you. It’s like he’s in a different dimension as he recites this story to you, a gentle, happy look you’ve never seen appearing on his face.
“And this one time, it started to rain while my brother and I were playing in this forest, and we got lost. My brother found us some shelter under this large tree, and I started freaking out but my brother comforted me. He told me that he was going to take care of me, no matter what. I stopped crying after that and trusted everything my brother told me and we eventually made it out of the forest. My nanny was worried sick about us, and we never went back to that beach.”
Jake is brought back to you and smiles. “We were lost for fifteen minutes, Y/N, and for ten of those minutes, I was genuinely happy because I had my brother with me, guiding me through life. Jaehyun has always wanted the best for me and has always supported me in all of my endeavors. I don’t have a lot of people like him in my life.”
“That’s really sweet, Jake, I’m glad you have someone like that in your life.”
“Anything else you want to know, Y/N?” Jake asks.
“How did you meet the boys in Enhypen? Did you know any of them before coming to college?”
Jake laughs. “Obviously it’ll take us days for me to explain my close relationship with all thirty of us, but I’ll tell you about my closest friends. The ones you’ve met already.”
“I love a good story,” you say eagerly, pulling the comforter up higher.
“I grew up with Jay and Sunghoon. Our families were closely intertwined, so it just made sense for us to grow up together. They’re like my brothers. I met Heeseung and Sunoo in elementary school. I had heard a lot about Heeseung from Jay since they’re like, distantly related or something, and Sunoo was a friend Sunghoon made while learning how to figure skate. I got along well with them as well, so we all began hanging out. I met Jungwon and Riki in middle school. Riki is the son of one of Jay’s dad’s business partners in Japan. He came to Korea during the summer and stayed with Jay. He eventually applied for a transfer program when he was sixteen, so that’s why he’s around now. Jungwon is just some kid Jay latched on to during Taekwondo practice and never let go.”
“That sounds a lot like a found family novel I would find in a library,” you tease. “But it’s really sweet how you all found each other.”
“I guess it is. They’re my lifelong brothers. But, enough about me. What about you, Y/N? What was your childhood like?”
“It was normal,” you reply, teasing Jake who rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, which I was fine with. I liked being left alone. I think I was just scared of making friends because they might leave me like my father did. But, I don’t feel that way anymore. I’ve made a lot of friends since arriving at college.”
“What’s your happiest memory?”
“Right now, my happiest memory is meeting Wonyoung for the first time,” you tell Jake. “I was so scared moving out of home, and I was scared that I wouldn’t…experience the world my mom talked about whenever she brought up her college years, but I met Wonyoung during move-in day, and I think my life has changed.” You nudge Jake’s shoulder, “you know, if I hadn’t met Wonyoung, I don’t think we would’ve met.”
“Crazy how the world works,” Jake says.
“Very crazy,” you agree. “Did you sleep with plushies when you were younger?”
Jake shakes his head. “Nah, did you?”
A timid smile spreads across your face. “Yeah. I slept with a lot of plushies. I guess I just liked having something to hug and keep me warm while I slept.”
“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jake coos, pinching your nose.
“Fuck off, Jake.”
There’s a long silence before Jake starts to talk again. “You know, we’ve known each other for a week and I’ve told you more about myself than most people close to me know.”
You look at Jake in surprise. “Really?”
Jake nods his head. “It’s...easy talking to you, Y/N.”
“I could say the same about you,” you murmur.
“I guess,” Jake starts slowly, leaning forward, his hand cupping your cheek, “we were meant to meet.” His lips are a whisper away from yours. “It’s our fate.” And then he’s kissing you. It’s a gentle kiss, a kiss unlike any you’ve had before. Jake doesn’t make any move to rush the kiss, and you don’t either. You’re both perfectly content to take your time kissing each other.
Jake breaks away and shifts your positioning so you’re half on top of him. He cups your cheek again, pulling you back in for a soft kiss, while his other arm wraps around your waist. Both of your hands are threaded through Jake’s hair, and all you can hear is Little Mix’s Love Me Like You.
—-
The cold of the ice rink hits you suddenly. A chill zips up your spine, and you grip Jake’s hand tighter. It was the first day of winter break, and you and Jake were on a double date with Yunjin and Heeseung. You’d all agreed to go ice skating for the date.
“When was the last time you went ice skating, Y/N?” Yunjin makes conversation as Jake and Heeseung talk about some Pokemon game they had played recently. Yunjin looked pretty today. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail, with a few strands curling around her face, and her makeup was light. She was wearing cute pink leg warmers that you eyed with envy.
“Probably when I was…fifteen? I think we went ice skating for a school trip,” you respond. “What about you? When was the last time you went ice skating?”
“A couple weeks back,” Yunjin says smiling. “Heeseung likes to ice skate so we often swing by when we have nothing to do.”
“You’re probably really good then.”
Yunjin laughs. “I’m mediocre at best. Heeseung’s really good though. But, then again, Heeseung’s good at everything.”
“Talking shit about Heeseung again, Yunjin?” Jake asks, joining in on the conversation.
“Yes, because that’s all I do, Jake,” Yunjin retorts sardonically.
“Do you know what size skates you wear, baby?” Jake directs his attention on you, his nose a light red already.
“Um, maybe a six?”
“Woah, you have small hands and feet,” Jake exclaims.
“Rude,” you whack Jake’s chest with your free hand.
“No, it’s cute,” Jake says with a small smile. “You’re super cute, Y/N.” He kisses the tip of your nose and lets go of your hand. “I’ll go with Heeseung to get your skates. Go find us a place to sit.”
Yunjin snakes her arm around yours and pulls you away from Jake, laughing loudly at something Heeseung had whispered to her.
“You and Jake are so cute,” Yunjin says when you finally lay claim on a row of chairs. “You’ve only been dating for what? Two weeks? And you’re already this cute?” Yunjin sighs, “The honeymoon phase is the best part of a relationship. Hee and I have been dating for…woah has it been two years already? We’ve been dating for two years and I don’t think we’ve left the honeymoon stage yet.”
“Yeah,” you agree, not really knowing what else to say.
“How did you meet Jake again?”
“Oh, at one of Enhypen’s parties. We both had shitty nights -- I had a failed date and Jake got accused of giving someone chlamydia -- and we comforted each other. Jake likes to say we had an immediate connection, so he wasted no time in asking me out.”
“Aww,” Yunjin coos, “love at first sight! I wish I got to experience that. Heeseung held a grudge against me for the longest time before he ever admitted his feelings to me.”
“Heeseung holds grudges?” You were pleasantly surprised. “He doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges.”
“I was a special case, apparently,” Yunjin jokes. “But really, Heeseung’s the sweetest, most romantic guy I’ve ever dated.” Her eyes dart over your shoulder, and her grin only gets wider. “Jake’s a really good guy too, if you give him a chance.” She looks back at you and reaches out to squeeze your shoulder. “And it looks like you are giving him a chance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this happy.”
You don’t have time to respond, because Jake takes a seat beside you, dumping your skates onto your lap. “Here you go. Do I get a thank you kiss?”
“If you insist,” you grumble, leaning forward to lay a quick peck on Jake’s lips. “Now help me put them on.”
Yunjin and Heeseung head onto the ice first, leaving you alone with Jake as he laces up his skates after helping you. You nudge Jake’s knee with your own, a sly smile slipping onto your face. “We have a love at first sight story, huh? Does this mean you loove me?”
“Damn,” Jake curses, “how did you find out? Was it that easy to tell?” A smile that matches the one you are wearing slips onto Jake’s face. “Jungwon told me I was being too obvious.”
You snicker and wrap your hands around Jake’s bicep, inching forward to rest your head on his shoulder. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous, Jake, because I love you too, my sweet sugar plum.”
“Sweet sugar plum? Where did that come from?”
“You don’t like it?” You ask, pouting slightly.
“I hate it.”
You turn your head to muffle your giggles against Jake’s shoulder.
“Y/N, you know I won’t leave you, right?” Jake asks in a soft tone.
“Hmm? Where did this come from, Jake?” You pull your head away from Jake’s shoulder to look at him.
“I was just thinking about what you told me on Saturday,” Jake admits. “I’m not gonna leave you, Y/N.”
“Even after our break up?” You don’t like how insecure you sound. “We’ll still be friends after our break up?”
Jake nods his head. “Of course.”
You smile, kissing Jake’s cheek. “Great. Let’s go skating now, Jakey, I need an excuse to hold your hand for a few hours.”
Jake lets you pull him up from the chair. “You could just ask to hold my hand, Y/N.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” You reply, grinning eagerly.
—-
“Why are we carving pumpkins, again?” You ask your sister. It was Christmas Eve and you were sitting at the dining table with a large pumpkin parked in front of you. Your younger sister was sitting next to you, tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated on carving her pumpkin.
“Because you weren’t home for Halloween,” your sister responds, not taking her eyes off her pumpkin.
“Halloween was three months ago, Mye. It’s Christmas Eve, shouldn’t we be helping Mama in the kitchen?”
“We are!” Myeong refutes. “We’re making decorations!”
You throw Myeong a pointed look. “Carving pumpkins? For Christmas decorations?”
Myeong scowls. “No need to be such a grinch, Y/N. Sorry I missed carving pumpkins with you.”
You sigh and place down your scalp. “I missed carving pumpkins with you too, Myeong.”
Your younger sister turns to you, her eyes soft and wide. She reminds you of a baby deer. “Really?”
You nod your head and Myeong breaks out into a grin, throwing her arms around you and hugging you tightly. “It feels so lonely at home without you, Y/N. I’m so glad you’re back home for winter break.”
You hug your sister back tighter. “Me too. I missed you and Mama a lot. Especially her food. I mostly eat ramen and toast.”
Your sister giggles and draws out of the hug and starts to carve her pumpkin again. “What is college like, Y/N? Have you made any friends?’ Myeong wiggles her eyebrows, “Have you gotten a boyfriend?”
You snort. “A boyfriend?” You try to ignore your cheeks heating up. “Are you crazy, Myeong? I have no time for a boyfriend. I did make some friends, though.”
“Oh yes, that Wonyoung Jang girl?”
“How do you know about her?”
“You posted her on your Instagram story a couple of times, Y/N,” your sister deadpans, rolling her eyes.
“Oh, right. But yeah, Wonyoung’s my friend. And all her friends are my friends as well.” You don’t know why your chest swells with pride when you mention your friends. “I have a large friend group, Mye.”
Myeong smiles. She looks genuinely happy for you. “I’m glad, Y/N.”
You turn back to your pumpkin and continue to carve in silence. Your mother was in the kitchen, humming away to whatever song was on the radio as she baked some Christmas cookies. The warm cheer of Christmas wraps you up warmly. You were happy to be back home with your mother and sister, carving a pumpkin while your mother made cookies a few feet away. You were afraid leaving for college would change everything, but it had changed nothing.
“But, seriously Y/N,” Myeong breaks the silence, “you have had to at least kiss a guy at one of the parties you went to with Wonyoung!”
“Well, I did,” You drop your voice and lean in closer. “Lose my virginity.”
Myeong gasps loudly, your mother looking up from where she was placing cookie dough on a tray. “Everything okay, girls?”
“Yes,” you say, smiling. You look at Myeong who was staring at you, completely taken by surprise at your confession.
“Really?”
You nod your head.
“What was it like?”
You blush and bury your head in your hands. “Myeong -- why -- why would you ask me that?”
Myeong shrugs. “Curiosity.”
“It was fine,” you grumble. “It was just a hook-up, though, and I haven’t had sex since then.”
Myeong pouts. “You’re no fun.”
“No, I’m just choosing to be safe. College parties are swarming with STDs.” Your phone begins to ring loudly, cutting off your mother’s humming and Myeong’s words. You steal a glance at who was calling you -- Jake’s contact name fills your screen and you can’t control the large smile that graces your face.
“I’ll be back,” you tell Myeong. “I have to take this.” Grabbing your phone, you exit the dining room and start up the stairs to your room. “Hey,” you greet Jake, pressing your phone to your ear. “What’s up?”
“Y/N, hey,” Jake’s voice is soft as he talks. “How are you?”
“I’m doing good. What about you?”
Jake sighs. “Well, I would like to leave, but I promised my mom and dad that I would stay for their Christmas dinner and I like to keep my promises, so.” If Jake were standing in front of you now, he would end his sentence with a shrug. Instead, he punctuates this sentence with another sigh.
“That sucks,” you murmur, shutting your bedroom door, and resting against it. “What is so awful about this Christmas dinner anyway?”
“It’s not really a Christmas dinner,” Jake explains. “It’s a business dinner, under the guise of a company Christmas dinner. My dad’s investors bring their families to our house for this Christmas dinner, but all they do is talk business while their wives make small talk and the kids sit at the table and eat in silence. Jay used to come, but his father wised up and decided to go on vacation during Christmas, which upset my father for a few years.”
“That is awful.”
“But it’s only for one night,” Jake sounds defeated. “What about you? What do you do for Christmas?”
“Not a lot,” you tell Jake. And it was true -- your family didn’t do a lot for Christmas. You all woke up quite late on Christmas since you and Myeong were no longer kids and the thrill of opening presents was slowly wearing off. Your mother made some pancakes for breakfast, and then the three of you headed down to afternoon mass. You weren’t religious, but your mother liked going so you and your sister accompanied her. You know how often your mother used to pray back when you were younger and she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her family afloat.
After mass, you would stop by a few shops to just pick up extra miscellaneous items. Then your mother would begin Christmas dinner prep and your relatives from your mother’s side would start turning up as soon as it hits 4 PM. They usually stay as late as midnight.
“That sounds….a lot more fun than my Christmas,” Jake laughs softly.
“It is fun,” you reply, laying down on your bed and staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you and Myeong stuck on your ceiling years ago. “After dessert, we all watch The Santa Clause trilogy.”
“I remember you telling me about that,” Jake hums. “I’ve never seen those movies, what are they about?”
“I don’t want to spoil anything, Jake,” you tease. “We’ll just have to watch them together at some point.”
“I’ll take you up on that, Y/N,” Jake’s tone was just as teasing. “I should let you get back to whatever it was you were doing before I called. I just wanted to hear your voice before I went insane inside this house.”
“Call me whenever Jake. I’ll always pick up.”
“Okay, I will. Talk later, Y/N.”
“Bye, Jake.”
—-
It was a little past eight when Jake calls you again. It’s Christmas, and you’re sitting at the dining table with your relatives. Dinner was served a couple of hours ago, but the conversation at the table was too good for anybody to think about cleaning up the mess displayed in front of you.
Your Uncle and Aunts were still helping themselves to the last bits of your mom’s lasagna. Dessert still had to be served, and your mother was looking for a way out of the conversation she was having with your grandmother.
Your phone cuts through the conversation you were having with your cousin.
“Who’s calling you, Y/N?” Your cousin, Lila, asks, trying to take a peek at your phone.
“Oh, it’s no one. I’ll be right back,” you sneak out of the dining hall and down to your bedroom. “Jake, hey.”
“Y/N, sorry if I disturbed you from your movie watching,” Jake greets.
“No, we’re still eating,” you assure Jake. “What’s up?”
“I-- I was wondering -- ah fuck, I don’t know how to ask this,” Jake admits.
“Just ask,” you encourage. “It’s okay, Jake. It’s just me.”
“Do you think I could come over? To your house?”
“Oh, Jake.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes. I’m sorry for asking, I just can’t be here. I just can’t do it. No one else would pick up. I’m sorry for asking, Y/N.”
“It’s okay, Jake. And you’re more than welcome to come over. My mama feeds all my friends that set foot in this house. I’ll send you my address.” Your heart hurts for Jake. You can’t imagine how awful it must be for Jake to be in a house that doesn’t feel like home.
“Thank you, Y/N. Really.”
“Don’t mention it. Just arrive safely, ok? And text me when you’re leaving.”
“Okay. See you soon, Y/N.” The line goes dead before you can respond. You share your location with Jake, and pocket your phone, padding back downstairs to the dining room. Your mother had finally been able to leave the conversation with your grandmother and was now in the kitchen, dumping empty plates in the sink and fixing dessert onto fresh, clean, plates.
“Mama,” you step into the kitchen, keeping your voice low. “My friend from college is coming over. I hope that’s okay, he needed -- he needed to get away from his family for a while.”
“What’s his name?” Your mother asks, looking up from where she was plating the Christmas cookies she had made while you were carving the pumpkins.
“Jake Sim. He’s…my friend.”
“Jake Sim? Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations?”
You smile wanly. “They’re his parents, mama.”
“Then, he’s more than welcome inside my house, Y/N. I went to school with his parents, I know how tough they can be.” Your mother shakes her head. “They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”
“You knew them?” You ask, surprised.
“Of course, I know them, Y/N. Everyone knew everybody back then. Should I set out a plate for him at the table?”
You look at the already crowded table. Myeong laughs loudly with one of your aunts. “Do we even have room for another chair?”
“We can make room,” your mother answers with a sly smile. “Do you know if he’s had dinner yet? Because I don’t want to just serve him dessert while he’s here.”
“Uh, I’ll ask him when he gets here.” Your phone dings with a text. You had two unread texts, both from Jake. One was sent eight minutes ago, telling you he’s left. The most recent one was Jake telling you he’d just parked. You wonder how close Jake lived if he was only an eight-minute drive away.
“He’s here,” you tell your mom, just as there’s a knock at the door.
“Go answer, I’ll make some room.”
You nod your head and turn away, eyes widening as Myeong rises from her chair. “I’ll get it!” You shriek, dashing out of the kitchen and down to the door. You throw the door open and your eyes widen at the sight of Jake.
“Y/N, hey,” Jake grins.
“Jake -- your -- your hair.”
It was black. His hair was black. You struggle to organize your thoughts as your eyes drag down the rest of his body. Jake was clearly dressed up for some formal event. He was wearing blue jeans with a white buttoned-up blouse tucked in, accentuating his waist, and a navy blue blazer.
“Decided to go back to black,” Jake answers with a grin. “Maintaining my blonde hair was tiring.” He peers over your shoulder. “Can I come in? Or did your mother --”
You shush Jake and step onto the porch, letting the front door fall shut. “No, you’re welcome in. I just -- I told them we were friends. They don’t know we’re….y’know? It just -- it just gets tiring lying all the time, and I don’t like lying to my mama and Myeong and --”
“It’s okay, Y/N,” Jake cuts you off. “I think it’ll be nice to not have to act like we’re dating for once.”
“Okay,” you smile relieved. “My mama knew your parents in college.”
“Really?” Jake asks.
“Yeah, she was more than willing to let you spend Christmas with us.”
“I already love your mom.”
“Alright, come on in, Prince Charming. Ready to meet my family?”
Jake adjusts his blazer and you have to pretend like your heart didn’t speed up. “I was born ready,” and for the final kill, he runs a hand through his hair. You almost faint on the spot. Since when was Jake this attractive to you? I mean, obviously, he was handsome, but you’ve never felt your heart palpitate like this before.
You’ve never seen your family so still and silent the moment you step into their line of sight with Jake. “Is that your boyfriend, Y/N?” One of your cousins teases you, earning a couple of snickers from your other cousins.
“Uh, no. This is Jake Sim. He’s my -- my friend from college. His parents are overseas at the moment, so I invited him over for dinner. Sorry he’s late, you know how assessments get during winter break.”
“He’s very handsome, Y/N. Are you sure you’re just friends?” One of your aunts asks, out of pure curiosity.
You flush bright red. “Aunty!”
“It was just an innocent question, dear,” your uncle, and her husband, defends. “Come join us, Jake. Have you had dinner yet?”
Jake smiles politely, taking a seat in the new chair that was beside yours. You steal a glance at your mother who smiles back smugly. “I have had dinner,” Jake responds. “My mom bought me some samgyeopsal before she left.” He plays along with the cover story you made up for him.
“Oh no, samgyeopsal won’t do you any good, honey,” your mother cuts in. “Do you like lasagna?”
“I love lasagna,” Jake responds, his eyes twinkling.
Your mother hpmhs, “You should have some of my lasagna. My lasagna is the best lasagna in all of America.”
“Too bad Aunt Yeeun ate it all,” snickers your cousin, Daisy.
“Too bad, indeed,” your mother says, glaring at her older sister.
Yeeun pokes out her tongue in retaliation, and the whole table dissolves into laughter. You glance at Jake, who stares back and smiles, his foot nudging yours beneath the table. “It’s okay, Mrs. L/N. I’m not that hungry anyway.”
“Call me Areum, honey,” your mother says, flushing. “And are you sure? I’m sure I could find something that wasn’t eaten by my good-for-nothing siblings.”
Grumbles are heard but your mother pays no attention to them. “If I can’t find anything, then I’ll have to serve you dessert. Will you be okay with eating my Christmas cookies? They won Y/N’s middle school’s Christmas fair baking competition three years in a row. However, when Myeong brought them to the fair, they decided that darn Dana’s cookies were better. I’m pretty sure the judges were being biased. Or racist --”
“I’m hungry,” Myeong interrupts, whining. “Fuss over Jake later! Let’s go serve everyone dessert now!” Myeong leaps out of her chair, sending you a look, before tugging on Areum’s arm. “Come on, mama! Jake can decide for himself if he wants to eat or not.”
Your mother sighs. “Alright. I’ll be back with dessert.”
The table launches into conversations with your mother gone, bombarding Jake with questions to which he answers all with ease. Beside you, Lila nudges you. “Was he the one who called you?”
You nod your head. “Yeah.”
Lila smirks. “Just friends, huh?”
You groan and kick her shin beneath the table. “Shut the fuck up.”
—-
The rest of dinner is spent happily. Jake easily converses with your relatives, and it seems like he gets along well with all of them. You hate the way your heart flutters at that thought. As Jake had said, it was almost like he was born to please your relatives, based on the way they smile whenever Jake responds to them with great enthusiasm.
Even your younger cousins enjoy Jake’s presence. He distracts them as the adults clean up and get ready for the movie marathon with pictures of his dog, Layla. He also plays them a couple of videos which gets your entire family cooing over the dog.
You sit in the corner of the living room, with a slight frown on your face. The older cousins were all hanging out together, thankful someone else was willingly distracting the younger ones. “Why the frown, Y/N?” Myeon asks you, drawing you out of your thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” you answer, schooling your expression into a neutral one.
“Jake Sim, he’s the son of that one CEO, right? Sim Corporations, or something?” One of your cousins, Daniel, asks.
“Yeah,” you nod your head.
“Damn,” whistles Daniel, “through Jake, you basically have connections to the entire corporate world, Y/N.”
“Good thing I’m not a business major,” you retort.
“But I will be next year,” Daniel responds. “Do you think --”
“If you want to use Jakes’s connections, you have to get buddy-buddy with him, Daniel. I’m not your lapdog.”
Daniel huffs. “Fine, loser.”
You grip the armchair pillow and whack Daniel with it. “I’m not a loser, freak.”
“Alright,” your uncle claps his hands loudly, “let’s get this marathon on the road! Adults, help yourself to some eggnog, minors, there’s some soda and juices for you. And yes, Daniel, we got you your gross dill pickle chips.”
Chaos descends as everyone fights for the best seats, the best drinks, and the best snacks. You’re content with staying in the armchair in the corner of the living room. It didn’t really give you the best view of the television, but you’ve seen these movies hundreds of times. You could practically recite every line of all three movies by heart.
Jake approaches you, holding two glasses of cola.
“Hey,” Jake greets, handing you one glass. “I feel like we haven’t had time to talk.”
“It seems my family is smitten with you, Jake.”
“I do seem to have that effect on everyone I meet,” Jake hums in agreement.
“Come on, let’s cuddle,” you say, pulling Jake onto the chair. “Unless you want to move closer. I know you wanted to watch these movies.”
“It’s okay,” Jake waves you off, “there’s always another Christmas to watch them with you.”
You ignore how your heart explodes, painting your body a lovesick pink.
After a lot of adjustments, you end up with your back pressed against the arm of the armchair, and your legs thrown over Jake’s lap. The first fifteen minutes of the movie had already gone by by the time you and Jake pay attention and instead of trying to catch Jake up, you ask him about his own Christmas dinner.
Jake told you it was the same Christmas dinner he’d been going to for twenty years, but it was the first time his older brother wasn’t there and Jake couldn’t handle not having his brother around, so he left.
“Thank you for having me,” Jake whispers.
“Thank you for trusting me,” you respond.
“How could I not?” Jake’s eyes were wide, “You have a trusting face.”
“Oh, so you’re friends with me for my face?” You scowl.
Jake muffles his giggles. “Yes.”
You huff and look away from Jake to watch Scott and Carol lean in to kiss beneath a mistletoe.
“Y/N,” Jake whispers. “I like you for your face and your heart.”
“Really?”
Jake nods. “Really.”
“Well, I like you for your money and your connections to the corporate world.”
“You don’t even major in business!”
“You don’t know that!”
“Y/N,” Jake gives you a pointed look and you sigh.
“Fine. I don’t like you because of your money or your connections, I like you because of your face and your heart.”
“Would you ever want to get married?”
You stare at Jake, shocked by the sudden change of topic. “What? Where did this come from, Jake?”
“My parents brought up marriage when they talked about our relationship. They said we shouldn’t date if we aren’t thinking about marriage.”
“Well, I mean,” you sigh, “if you ask nicely, then I’ll probably say yes.”
It’s silent for a few moments before Jake coughs loudly. You get stares from your sister and a few of your cousins, but you ignore them. “You -- you would want to marry me?”
“I mean --” you blink, confused. “That’s what we were talking about, right?”
“I was -- I was just asking if you want to get married. In general. Not to me.”
“Oh.” Your face flushes. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jake intertwines your hands together and squeezes three times. “You’re cute when you make mistakes.”
“Shut up,” you groan.
Jake laughs softly, his eyes shining with adoration.
—-
“Do you think I could stay the night?” Jake asks you after he finishes saying goodbye to all of your relatives. The goodbyes took longer than usual because everyone was clamoring to talk to Jake. You didn’t understand all the fuss over Jake.
“Stay -- stay the night?”
“Or not. It’s okay, Y/N.”
“No --”
“You’re more than welcome to stay the night, sweetheart,” your mother cuts. “You’ll just have to share a bed with Y/N, our guest room is a bit.. preoccupied. I’ve been cleaning out the attic.”
Jake looks over at you. “I’m okay with sharing a bed. Are you? If not, I can sleep on the floor or just go home.”
You eye your mom carefully. She’s never been this open and welcoming to a boy staying the night. In your bed. “Yeah…I’m fine with it.”
“Y/N and Jake sharing a bed!” Myeong sings in a teasing voice as she bounces up the stairs. “I’ll make sure to turn on my white noise!” Both you and Jake flush a deep red while your mother scolds Myeong for her words.
“I’ll go find you some clothes, Jake,” your mother smiles warmly at the boy beside you and disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with Jake.
“Won’t your parents be concerned about your whereabouts?” You ask Jake, leading him into the kitchen.
“I told them I was at Sunghoon’s,” Jake answers, leaning against the counter as you fill two glasses with water. He gratefully takes one of the glasses and drinks it all within seconds. “They won’t really be worried that much. They’ve never been the kind of parents to worry.”
You give Jake a gentle look and take the empty glass from him, rinsing it and making room for it in the dishwasher. “Your family is very fun,” Jake says, “they all…love each other.”
“I guess they’re fun. They can be a bit annoying and frustrating at times.”
“But you love them, though.”
“They loved you tonight, Jake.” You tell him, sensing the underlying tone of Jake’s words. You reach out to take his hand into yours as you stand at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re probably welcome to all family gatherings in the future.”
“Really?” Jake asks in slight disbelief.
“Would I lie to you, Jake? Everyone loved you tonight.”
In the darkness of the living room, standing in silence, you can feel Jake. Jake is all over you. You feel as though you’re one with Jake, and everything you think, Jake is also thinking. You feel and hear every inhale and exhale of Jake’s.
With his other hand, Jake cups your cheek, and you immediately sink into the feeling. “Y/N,” it’s like Jake is feeling the same as you. He doesn’t dare to raise his voice. “I --”
“Jake, would you like to take a shower?” Your mother stands at the top of the stairs.
You rip yourself away from Jake, clenching and unclenching your hand as your mind races. “Oh, yes, that would be nice, Areum.”
“I’ll go get you a towel,” Areum smiles and turns back around, heading for the linen closet.
Jake turns to you. “Y/N --”
“You should go take a shower, Jake.”
Jake hesitates.
“I’ll see you in my room.” You don’t think you’ll be able to handle talking to Jake alone for the rest of the night. You climb the stairs with speed, leaving Jake in the dust. Reaching your room, you pull out your phone and fire a text to Wonyoung, your heart speeding, finally realizing why yourheart races around Jake.
By the time Jake finishes his shower and stands in the doorway of your room, you’re changed and separating the bed in two halves with pillows you stole from your mom. “What are you doing?” Jake asks you, drying his hair with a yellow towel.
“When we’re sleeping, we need to stay to our sides. We can’t cross the pillow line,” you explain to Jake, slipping beneath the covers on your side.
“Why do we need halves all of a sudden?” Jake asks, throwing his towel over your desk chair. “We’ve never had halves like this when we’ve laid in bed together.”
Your face flushes. “That’s -- that’s different.”
Jake raises his eyebrows. “Is it?”
You scowl. “My house, my bedroom, my rules.”
Jake climbs into bed, making sure to keep to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Y/N.” Jake gives you a sweet smile that disarms you completely.
“Fuck it,” you groan. You grab the pillows -- that had taken a lot of time to set up -- and you throw them to the ground. “I do like to cuddle things when I sleep, Jake. And since I removed my plushies for you to fit, I guess you could be a good substitute.”
Jake grins with a glint in his eyes that tells you he doesn’t believe your bluff. He opens his arms and you immediately curl up to his chest, your ear pressed to his chest, and there, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s beating rapidly and you allow your delusions to take over.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jake says, his voice close to your ear.
“Goodnight, Jake,” you mumble back.
—-
“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask Jake nervously as you sit in his car. A week after winter break ended, Jake had told you his parents wanted to meet you, and no matter how desperately you wanted to say no, you agreed to join Jake for dinner this weekend. You’re parked outside his parents’ house. It’s tall, and spiraling, and reminds you just how rich Jake was. You’re fretting over your look as if Jake hasn’t already complimented you a thousand times tonight.
“You look beautiful, Y/N.” And, as always, Jake’s words of affection make you blush.
“Alright,” you say, “let’s do this.”
Jake nods and squeezes your hand before letting go.
“Remember,” Jake says in a low voice as you walk up to the front door, gravel crunching beneath the uncomfortable high-heels Wonyoung shoved you into, “we can leave. Whenever you want. We don’t have to stick around for the entire night, I’ll make up an excuse if you want to leave, okay?”
You kiss Jake’s cheek in lieu of a response.
Jake doesn’t bother to knock on the door, he just pushes it open. A multitude of shoes sit in the foyer, and you turn to Jake who is helping you take off your coat. “How big is this family dinner, exactly?”
Jake gives you a sheepish smile. “My parents, uncles and aunts, and cousins. I don’t know if Jaehyun will be here though.”
You can’t help but feel sorely underprepared for this. Why didn’t Jake let you know beforehand that you would be meeting his entire family? Your stomach rolls over at the thought, and you feel nausea wash over you. An uncomfortable itch appears in your throat -- no cough or clearing of a throat removes that itch as you walk from the foyer to the dining room where your demise awaits.
“You didn’t think to tell me?” You mumble to Jake, half anxious, half annoyed.
“It slipped my mind,” Jake murmurs back and you withhold a scoff.
You can’t help but feel intimidated as you enter the dining hall, gripping Jake’s hand tightly. His aunts, uncles, cousins, and parents mill about the room, talking and laughing forcefully with each other. The atmosphere doesn’t at all feel comfortable. It’s a weird atmosphere, it feels tense and taut.
Hyunjae is the first to spot Jake. He breaks out into a grin and approaches Jake, a girl with dyed red hair follows behind, her eyes glued to her phone as she frowns. Next to you, Jake inhales sharply and his shoulders roll back like he’s prepared for an attack.
“Jake,” Hyunjae greets, the smile not slipping from his face. He looks at you and his smile only grows. “Y/N. What a pleasure to see you both here.”
“The same can’t be said for you,” Jake responds, his voice tight.
The red-headed girl finally looks up, pocketing her phone and taking a sip of her champagne. “Jake,” her voice is soft, tinkling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen more perfect eyes, nose, and mouth on someone before. “Who are you?” She asks, out of pure curiosity. Her eyes shine and you try to search for some kind of double meaning.
“Y/N L/N,” you answer, feeling your heart tremble beneath the eyes pinned to your face. “Who are you?”
The girl laughs. It’s high and tinkling, like her voice. “I’m Francesa Choi, nice to meet you, Y/N.”
Jake’s ex-girlfriend.
“Jaeyun?” A voice calls out. You watch as an intimidating woman walks over to the group. Her eyes are piercing, and her hair is black as the night. It doesn’t take much for you to realize this woman is Jake’s mother. Lagging behind her is Jake’s father. Pepper hair, creased lines on his forehead, and a frown. You wonder how Jake is able to be who he is with parents like these.
“This must be the Y/N you talk highly of,” her eyes darted to you, and then back at Jake, like you weren’t worth her time. You try to pry your hand from Jake’s, but he only tightens his grip further. You're sure he’s cutting off blood to your hand.
Jake’s father watches you silently. He doesn’t say anything, remaining behind his wife as she does all the talking; all the commanding.
“Are you going to introduce us to her?”
Jake clears his throat. “Mom, Dad, this is Y/N L/N, Y/N, this is my mom and dad.”
Your mother’s words echo around your head. “Does he have any relations with Hana and Jaeho Sim? The CEO of Sim Corporations? I know how tough they can be. They were both forces to be reckoned with at college.”
Jake’s mother -- Hana -- gives you a short nod. “Nice to meet you, Y/N, I hope I get to know you well tonight.”
Not I hope we get to know each other well. You learn something about Hana Sim very early on. She’s the authorization figure of the Sim household. She expects you to tell her everything about you, and you get nothing in return.
Dinner is served, and with Jake to your left and his ex-girlfriend to your right, your nerves skyrocket. Jake’s ex-girlfriend is pretty -- she even smells pretty. No wonder Jake dated her. As the conversation is passed around the table, you also learn Francesa Choi is smart. She’s pretty, smart, and confident. It’s clear, by the way Hana praises and smiles at Francesa, that she’s thoroughly beguiled by the girl.
When Hana Sims speaks to you, though, it’s dull. Hana appears to look bored as she decides to make conversation with you, and for the first time that night, the table falls silent. Every Sim wants to know about you, apparently.
“How did you meet my son, Y/N?” Hana asks, picking up her wine glass.
“I told you how we met --”
“I want to hear her talk, Jaeyun,” Hana cuts off her son.
“We meet at a party,” you respond, hands curling on your lap beneath the table. Your nails dig into your palms to keep you grounded. “It was love at first sight.”
Any normal family would coo over love at first sight, but the Sim family only shares looks. Looks that are clearly laced with judgment. Beside you, Jake offers no help. He doesn’t even reach out to rest his hand on your thigh. You feel alone.
“Love at first sight?” Hana muses. “So, you love my son?”
It takes a lot of effort for you to breathe. Your chest feels heavy like there’s something crushing it. You steal a glance at Jake and he doesn’t look back, content with admiring his plate of food in front of him. Your heart pangs.
“Yes,” you say, willing the nerves out of your voice. “I love Jake.”
Hana doesn’t look impressed. “You’ve only been dating for a month.” That’s not a question -- it’s a statement. “How could you fall in love that fast?”
“He’s easy to love,” your response is almost instantaneous, your mouth working faster than your brain. Your response is honest. In a way. And that shocks and scares you.
Hana still doesn’t look impressed. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Y/N. What’s your major?”
“I’m Majoring in Linguistics. This is my first year.” Your nails dig deeper into your palms and Jake continues to offer no support.
“So you’re…eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Eighteen.”
Hana nods, reaching for her wine glass and taking a sip. The silence is suffocating. Just how nosey and judgmental was the Sim family?
“And your family?” Hana asks, “Any siblings?”
“I have a younger sister, Myeong.”
“And your parents?”
“My dad passed away when I was three, so it’s just been my mom, me, and Myeong for as long as I can remember.”
Hana’s eyes narrow. You gulp and your heart hammers away in your chest. You feel a bad omen circling the air. Whatever is said next will either be your downfall or finally impress Hana.
“Did your mom ever get remarried?”
You shake your head. “No.”
Words tumble out of Hana’s mouth, and it sounds like Korean. The ground gives out beneath your feet and your heart drops out of your body. You don’t know Korean. Your mother never had the time to teach you, and she slowly lost her mother tongue. Your father died when you were young. You grew up feeling isolated, not really understanding where you fit in; you were Korean, but you didn’t speak Korean, and you’ve never been to Korea. But you had an American citizenship, so you were American, except you didn’t look American.
“I -- I don’t know Korean,” the words tumble out of your mouth -- the words were the bad omen you felt in the air moments ago.
If possible, the silence is louder than before.
“You’re Korean,” Hana states, her voice a foreign emotion.
“My mom and dad were first-generation immigrants,” you answer, your nails beginning to cut into your palm. “But my dad died before he could teach me, and my mom was always busy with work.”
“Have you ever visited Korea?”
“No,” you respond, Hana’s eyes cutting into your bones.
“I pity you,” Hana says, her words sharp like claws. Her eyes dart to Jake, and this time her words sting. “I thought I taught you better.”
Jake’s silence stings even more.
You were able to excuse yourself to the bathroom after dinner. You grip the edge of the sink and squeeze your eyes shut tightly, suddenly longing for the embrace of your mother. Hana’s words, her eyes -- her everything has you a shuddering mess. Who knew someone could make simple words sound so cruel?
The door swings open and Francesa steps in. She smiles and steps up to the sink next to you, pulling out some lip glass from her handbag. You watch her as she applies another layer onto her lips.
“That was a hard conversation to listen to,” Francesa says, her eyes meeting yours through the mirror.
“Yeah,” you mumble, not really in the mood to talk.
“It takes a lot to impress Hana.”
“Clearly.”
Francesa pats your shoulder. “I’m sure you will find something to impress Hana with.” You don’t know why but it sounds so condescending. “But I’m not surprised to see Jake hasn’t changed.” Francesa laughs to herself, finding something funny.
“What are you laughing about?” You ask Francesa.
“When we were dating, I was exactly like you when meeting his family. He threw you in the deep end, didn’t he? Told you were meeting his parents, but actually took you to a family dinner? And when his mother was grilling me, he was silent -- just like tonight.” Francesa sighs, turning to you. “He doesn’t have the guts to talk back to his parents. His older brother did, and that’s why he’s not at family dinners anymore.”
“I just..” Francesa trails off. “I just hoped tonight would be different, you know? You and Jake…you guys look happy and in love and I just thought that this would be the night where Jake finally speaks up and does something about the way his mother treats people.”
Francesa shakes her head, giving you a small smile. “It’s a shame your love couldn’t change that.”
“Why would I need to change Jake?” You ask, frowning.
“Oh, Y/N.” Francesa sighs. “Whenever I would come for a family dinner, Jake would sit in silence and let Hana pick at me, probing me to reveal personal secrets and shame me for them. She wanted to mold me into the perfect wife for Jake. Whatever flaw I had, Hana would take it and cut it up into a thousand more flaws, throw it back at me, and tell me I had to fix them all or else I would never be good enough for her son. Dating Jake made me hate myself, and him, so we broke up.”
“You cheated on him, though.”
“I did,” Francesa agrees easily.
“Why?”
“Hyunjae’s nothing like Jake.”
The drive home is silent. Jake attempts to speak, but after his fifth try, he stops. Your mind was a mess, recounting Hana’s sharp words, and Francesa’s story. Everything was a mess and you felt as if you never really knew Jake.
“Y/N,” Jake tries again.
You’re sitting in his car, outside your dorm. You don’t move to leave the car. You should probably confront the tense air before it gets worse the longer you continue to ignore it. You turn to Jake, trying to keep your emotions under lock.
“Jake,” you respond. “I think we need some space. Just for a few days.”
Jake looks confused. “What do you mean, Y/N?”
“What do you mean?” Your voice is filled with rage you didn’t know you had. Watching Jake shift away, regret fills you. “Sorry, Jake. Sorry.” You look away, out the front window, and this time the tears come without warning. When you look back at Jake, you’re crying silently, the hurt inflicted by Hana filling up the space where your heart used to sit.
“If you can’t tell your mother to shut the fuck up and stop prying into my personal life, then we can’t be friends, Jake. Your silence really hurt me tonight.”
Jake’s mouth opens and closes. He doesn’t know what to say, and for some reason, that hurts you.
“You didn’t -- you didn’t even offer support, like a hand on my thigh, or a hand to hold. You left me -- you left me alone tonight, Jake.”
“I’m sorry,” Jake says, but he doesn’t even look like he means it. He’s still confused.
“Just -- just don’t talk to me for a couple of days. Unless we need to act like a couple for some stupid event.”
“Y/N --”
You smile sadly at Jake. “Jake, you’re meant to be in love with me. Your silence at dinner told a different story.”
You climb out of the car, close the passenger door, and walk away from Jake.
—-
Three days. You haven’t spoken to Jake in three days. You’ve kept yourself distracted by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends and actually completing your assignments before the deadline, and handing them in once the submissions open.
Deciding to give yourself a break, you take this chance to check your phone. Youngeun had sent you something on Instagram, and so you pause the game you were playing with Rei and check Youngeun’s messages. She had sent you someone’s story. Clicking on it, you watch the story and your stomach turns over. It was Jake with Francesa.
Normally, you aren’t one for presumptions and letting miscommunication get in between your relationships with those close to you, but when it comes to Jake, you can’t help but get insecure. He’s rich, he’s popular, he’s handsome. He can have anyone he wants, and yet there you were, faking dating him. And yet, there you were, falling in love with him.
Love. That word strikes you across your face. Love. Since when were you in love with Jake?
You recall the sudden development you felt over Winter break; you like Jake. And not in a fake way. You truly like Jake and it’s messing with your brain. You can’t handle Jake’s gentle touches and kind words, and you can’t handle his kisses and flirtatious remarks. This fake relationship is driving you insane and soon you feel like you’ll snap. You fear what the consequences would be when that day comes.
But when did love come into play?
The overwhelming emotions of love and like terrorize you. You click off the story where Francesa and Jake were sharing giggles and you leave Youngeun on seen. Nausea washes over you. Maybe this temporary space needs to be a permanent space.
You excuse yourself from your group of friends and walk back to your dorm. The chilly wind whips through the air and seeps through your hoodie, chilling you to the bone. Maybe you shouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, maybe you need to give Jake the chance to explain himself. Maybe you were just overreacting. Yes, Jake had let his mother embarrass you in front of his relatives, but that shouldn’t define who he is as a person. Right? Yes, Jake was hanging out with his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him, but nothing is happening between them. Right?
Your head begins to spin.
You stumble into the dorm and crash into Ricky. “Y/N!” The platinum blond exclaims, “I was just looking for you. Someone is here to see you.”
Immediately, you think of Jake. Has Jake finally realized what he did wrong three nights ago? Has Jake realized he loves you the way you love him? “Really?”
Ricky nods his head. “They’re in the common space.”
“Thanks Ricky,” you brush past the boy and with eager footsteps, you step into the common space -- only to falter.
Jake’s mother stands in the center of the room. Your heart stops and your breath catches.
“Mrs. Sim?”
The raven-haired woman turns at the sound of you calling her. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N,” she steps over to you. “Nice to see you again.” You knew these were false pleasantries. “How is college going?”
“It’s going well,” you respond stiffly. “Jake isn’t with me.”
Mrs. Sim chuckles. “Oh, I’m not here for my son.” Her eyes pin you to the spot. “I’m here to see you, Y/N. I value my son’s partners highly, and I think we should have a talk.” She gestures to the couch behind you. “Shall we sit?”
Hesitantly, you sit on the couch. Mrs. Sim relaxes in the spot next to you, and she pulls a white envelope out of her handbag and passes it over to you. “Y/N, I’ll be honest. I don’t think you’re right for my son.”
“What?” You draw your eyes away from the white envelope you were holding. “I’m not…right?”
“Korean heritage is valued highly in our family --”
“I’m Korean, Mrs. Sim.”
“But you cannot speak Korean.”
“But I can learn!” You refute.
Mrs. Sim raises her hand, silencing you. “There is more, of course. I just simply don’t think you and Jake will last. I am only saving you from heartbreak.”
“Mrs. Sim, I’m sorry but you don’t get to --”
“You feel as though you don’t belong in Jake’s world, Y/N. Am I correct?” Mrs. Sim’s eyes are narrowed as she addresses you, her voice one that commands to be listened to.
That is something you can’t refute. It’s something that had been bubbling up within you ever since that dinner -- ever since you realized just how rich Jake was. He lived and existed in a higher society you will never understand. In a society you can only dream of existing within. You don’t get the rules, and you don’t understand how to present yourself in that rich society Jake is ingrained in. You feel so out of place, and you’ve only attended a family dinner.
“With time, I think I can feel comfortable --”
“Y/N. You are not fit for my son. You should break up with him.”
You scoff. “What makes you think I would break up with Jake? I love him.”
Mrs. Sim sighs. “But does he love you? At dinner, it didn’t seem like he did. My son was more than happy to let you embarrass yourself.”
“Embarrass myself? That was -- that was your fault--”
“In that envelope is money. You should open it.”
You open it. It’s a check. Your eyes widen at the amount of money scrolled on the check. “What--what’s this for?”
“Break up with Jake and that money is yours.”
“I don’t -- I don’t want your money.” You throw the envelope on the ground. “I’m not cheap, Mrs. Sim.”
Mrs. Sim stands from the couch and brushes off her dress. “I have said what I wanted to say. I can only hope you listen to me, Y/N, and realize that you will never be the one for Jake, no matter what he says, or what you tell yourself.”
“Jake is his own person. He is twenty. He can make decisions for himself. Why are you still controlling him?”
Mrs. Sim glances over her shoulder. “My son is still green when it comes to the world. He does not know what is best for him because I sheltered him from the real world growing up.”
“He can make decisions for himself,” you repeat.
Mrs. Sim walks away.
A few hours later, with help of Wonyoung’s stalking skills and social connections, you find yourself back on Greek Row, and outside a frat house that was famous across campus because of their end-of-exams parties. Jake was at this party tonight with the rest of Enhypen.
Wonyoung was already chatting up some older college student and you head inside the frat yourself. It was already packed, horny and sweaty bodies pushing up against each other, and the smell of weed hangs suspended in the air. You start looking for Jake, and you immediately head for the back porch. You don’t find Jake there, however you find Sunghoon and Heeseung setting up a new game of beer pong. “Sunghoon! Heeseung!” You call out, rushing toward them. “Where’s Jake?”
Sunghoon beams at you. “Y/N! Hey! Jake took Sunoo to the bathroom. He’s wasted.”
“Awesome! Thanks!” You dash back into the house and climb the stairs, hoping there was a bathroom on the second floor of this frat. Pushing open every door, you only find bedrooms with two, or three people, making out on the beds. With apology after apology, your search for Jake and Sunoo and a bathroom is futile.
Then, a door at the end of the hall opens and out spills Jake and Sunoo. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s in excitement or nervousness for what’s about to happen. “Jake!” You shout.
Jake perks up hearing your voice, and his lips break out into a massive grin. He abandons Sunoo’s side and rushes up to you, wrapping you in a warm hug. He sloppily kisses your cheek. “Y/N!” He was tipsy. “I missed you so much.” He holds you tighter and nuzzles his face in your neck.
This was going to be hard.
“Jake,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”
—-
You and Jake were sitting at a bus shelter near the frat house throwing the party. Your leg shakes as you work up the courage to end the fake relationship you have with Jake. You don’t know why you were hesitating all of a sudden. Why were you afraid of ending this relationship with Jake?
“Jake,” you start softly. “I think -- I think.” You inhale. You can do this. You can spit it out. “I think we should end the fake relationship.”
“Huh?” Jake tilts his head to the side. He really is a puppy.
“Jake. We need to break up. Or whatever.”
Jake’s eyes widen. “Break up? Why?”
This was the hard part. You’ve never dated someone so you’ve never experienced a break up before. How were you supposed to do this? How were you supposed to tell Jake to never contact you again because you don't fit in his world? You don’t fit beside him?
“I’m calling this whole agreement off,” you rephrase. You aren’t sure if this is an actual break up if you were never in a real relationship in the first place.
“Why?” Jake asks, and he looks sober. “We don’t have that much longer left.”
“I just feel like I did what you needed me to do. I stayed your girlfriend long enough to meet your parents. Now, it just feels pointless to keep this whole agreement going. I’ll transfer you back the money, and you can stop driving me around everywhere.”
“Y/N,” Jake says gently. He reaches for your hand and you retract it, dismissing the hurt on his face.
The thing about love; you don’t understand it. You’ve never understood love because you’ve never been in love. It’s confusing and tricky. Why does your heart beat a certain way around Jake, and not anybody else? You love your friends, sure, but it’s a different love to the one you feel with Jake. Love is weird, and confusing, and tricky, and unforgiving. You feel naive at the hands of love because it makes everything you thought you understood, more complex and hard to understand.
You used to know the difference between like and love and now you’re not so sure anymore.
You used to find love confusing, but now it’s complex with more instructions written in the fine print you never read in the first place. When your heart begins to beat a different tune, everything in you changes; how you behave, how you talk, how you dress, and how you look. Love changes you. For better or for worse.
“Jake, I don’t think we should stay friends after,” you admit, standing from the seat. The lamplight next to the bus shelter flickers slightly. A strong wind picks up and whips your hair into your face. Jake doesn’t move an inch, hurt and confusion plastered all over his face. “We’re two different people from two different families. We would’ve never worked out, no matter how badly I wanted this to be real.” The confession slips from your lips without a warning.
Jake looks anguished and he tries to reach for you again. You take a step back and the wind blows more harshly, rattling the bus shelter. “Jake. I don’t fit in with you. Or your family. I don’t fit in the world you’re living in.”
Jake tries to interrupt but you don’t let him. “It hurt me that night, when you offered no support, when you barraged me with your family dinner. I was underprepared, Jake, and I was left humiliated as your mother ripped my life apart in front of your relatives who I really wanted to impress no matter if they don’t hold value in your life.”
“Jake, I really, really like you.” You don’t understand the difference between like and love. Maybe you never will. Maybe you just really like Jake. “But we’d never work if this became real because right now, it’s fake, and I feel…” You shrug, unable to form a coherent sentence. “It’s just messing with me. And the dinner --”
“It was my mom, Y/N,” Jake interrupts, finally finding his voice. “You know how she is.”
“She’s manipulative and controlling. You told me yourself Jake,” you shoot back. “And I’m not looking for a fight Jake, I just think it’s time you actually put actions to your words. She shouldn’t still control your life. You’re twenty. Not sixteen.”
“Y/N --”
“Your mother humiliated me, Jake. She made me feel stupid for not knowing Korean.” Tears well in your eyes. “And you know what’s even stupider? She didn’t even believe for a second that you loved me. Your silence really spoke a thousand words, Jake. And not just for me.”
Jake sighs and glances away and towards the party that was happening behind him. “Is this because of the Instagram story Fran posted of us?”
You shake your head, bitterness spilling across your tongue. “No. I know you don’t like her like that, Jake. I mean, for a moment I was jealous but then I remembered she cheated on you and I know you’re better than that, Jake. And then I remembered, you didn’t tell me what ‘family dinner’ actually meant, and then you let your mother humiliate me in front of, pretty much, your entire family, and you’re still acting like you did nothing wrong when all I wanted was your support. Is that too much to ask for? I really tried to sell this relationship, Jake, but your mother saw right through us because of your silence.”
Jake drops his head, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You huff and the first tear drops. “Your family is really shitty, Jake.”
“I know.”
“And you can be better than them.”
“I know.”
“I really wished I didn’t feel so alone during that dinner.”
Jake raises his head. He looks pitiful. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“Don’t contact me, Jake, we’re done.”
Jake physically recoils at your words. “Y/N --”
“I hope I’m able to get over you, Jake. I really hope I am.” You step away from Jake, and above you, lightning crackles through the sky. “I had a nice time with you, Jake.”
Jake lets you go as thunder booms overhead.
—-
“Do you think I was overreacting?” You ask Wonyoung as you lie on your bed. It’s been a week since you last saw or heard from Jake and as much as you wish you didn’t, all you could think about was Jake. How stupid, immature, and hypocritical of you. “Maybe I was. Maybe it wasn’t that deep.”
Wonyoung hums. “No. I think you did good. You know what you want in a relationship, Y/N. You want someone who can stand up for you against his parents. Your reaction was valid.”
You roll over in your bed and face Wonyoung who was probably texting Sunghoon as she lay on her own bed across from you. “I miss him,” you admit softly and then promptly shove your face in your pillow to scream. “But I hate him for what he did -- but I really really miss him.”
“You liked him a lot, Y/N,” Wonyoung says gently. “Of course you’ll miss him.”
You roll onto your back again and stare at the ceiling. “He was nice to me. And kind. And thoughtful, and he was funny and charming and so polite and he made me feel warm and safe and comfortable and --” You look at Wonyoung who was smiling at you, her phone discarded. “I think I almost fell in love with him.”
“I think he almost fell in love with you too,” Wonyoung says.
You shake your head. “I don’t know about that.”
Wonyoung checks the time on her phone and gasps, leaping off her bed. “Fuck. It’s so late. I need to get going for my lecture. Do you want me to buy anything when I’m walking back?”
“Chocolate milk?” You ask Wonyoung. “I think I need chocolate milk.”
Wonyoung smiles and pats your shoulder. “Of course.”
You lie in bed for the rest of the day, thinking over your relationship with Jake. You hate to admit it, but to you, for the most part, the relationship felt real -- especially when Jake joined your family during Christmas. Nothing felt more real than you curled up on Jake’s lap, sharing laughter and trading jokes.
“Hey Wonyoung,” you ask a few hours later, after she’s returned with your chocolate milk. (The bottle is now empty as it lies at the foot of your bed.) “Do you think I was a bit too naive in the relationship? Sure, we’re only two years apart, but our maturity is probably ten years apart. Was I asking for too much?”
Wonyoung shakes her head. “You weren’t asking for too much. Jake was just giving too little. He wasn’t providing you with the emotional support a relationship needs.”
“But when we were alone,” you say quietly, “he did. He comforted me. He told me reassuring words and made me feel wanted. I don’t know why he did what he did at dinner. Clearly that’s a can I’ll never have the privilege of popping open or asking about.” Sighing, you squeeze your stuffed toy dog closer to your chest. “But I do think I was naive. I fell too fast for Jake. I am only eighteen, after all.”
“You fell first but he fell harder,” Wonyoung says.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
You shut your eyes and sigh again. “When I think of Jake, I think of him spending Christmas with me and my family. He’s just…so happy. So fucking happy. And it makes me feel happy. See? I fell too fast, and too deep, and now I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him.”
Wonyoung laughs softly. “And why do you think he felt happy, Y/N?”
A light blush tints your cheeks. “I like to imagine he felt happy because he was with me.”
—-
Exam season creeps up on you fast, and to deal with your stress you start going out on runs -- like right now. With loud Olivia Rodrigo blasting through your airpods, you jog down the sidewalk of a quiet suburban street. Since summer is near, the sun burns brighter and sweat easily soaks you.
On this run, you bump into Riki.
“Riki!” You exclaim in surprise when you spot the familiar boy walking towards the nearby park that houses a baseball diamond. He’s carrying his overstuffed baseball bag and has headphones on, but at the sound of your voice, he whirls around and tugs them off.
“Y/N,” he responds, his voice smooth and neutral. “Wanna play baseball?”
So, you find yourself pitching to Riki and retrieving the balls he hits out into the field, deja vu washing over you. He doesn’t speak to you until the end. Concern that you’ve angered him washes over you as you watch him take a long sip of water from his water bottle.
“I’m not mad at you,” Riki says, wiping his forehead with a towel. “So can you stop looking at me like that?”
“Sorry,” you mumble, blushing.
“If anything, I’m glad you broke up with Jake.”
You gape at the younger boy and watch him back up his stuff. “What?”
“He needed this wake up call. He has so much personal shit going on in his life that he never had the balls to face, and I guess whatever you said to him when you broke up with him really slapped him awake. I’ve never seen Jake this happy, or appear this light, y’know? Like before, it felt like he was dragging this dead weight around with him but ever since he cut off his family and dealt with personal issues, it’s like that dead weight is gone.” Riki harshly shoves his baseball glove into his overflowing bag.
“I mean, you know Jake is emotionally constipated in a way.”
You snort. “Ain’t that the truth. We would only brush the surface level of his…childhood trauma. He would tell me measly things -- like how his parents never had time for him, and how his mother was extremely controlling and his father was demanding, but that’s all. We never, like, actually talked about his feelings.”
Riki nods his head, picking up his bat and swinging it through the air. “Jake’s actually talking about his feelings now, by the way. He’s been talking to his brother more recently and finally caved into Jay’s nagging and booked a therapy appointment.”
“Oh wow,” your eyes widened. “Therapy?”
Riki nods his head. “He wants to get better.” The look Riki gives you says everything.
Running back home, your steps feel lighter. You’re able to study with a clear mind and when you exit the exam halls you feel as if you just aced all those tests. You don’t know why, but knowing that Jake is working towards a better self, makes you feel happy. You’re glad Jake is working on himself, and has support all around him. You feel the urge to reach out to him, but you fight it away by keeping yourself occupied by hanging out with Wonyoung and your friends.
You occasionally run into Riki and Heeseung while out on your runs. They keep you updated on Jake, letting you know how he’s doing and what he’s doing. It’s nice to still be in touch with Jake’s friends, it’s nice to see that they don’t resent you for breaking up with Jake. Jay reaches out to you once, inviting you to his birthday party. You turn down the invitation and Jay says he understands. Then, he thanks you for taking care of Jake.
Your pride holds you back from unblocking Jake on Instagram so you create a burner account solely to keep yourself updated on Jake’s whereabouts during summer break. He takes Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki back to Milan, Italy where they shop at Prada, eat tons of pasta and pizza, and get drunk on Italian wine. Based on the stories they post, the Milan trip was quite eventful.
The start of your second year approaches quickly and you still haven’t reached out to Jake yet. You’ve unblocked his number and drafted up a few text messages asking Jake if he wants to talk, or meet up, but you’ve never had the guts to send them. You’re afraid of the outcome, you’re afraid of finding out that Jake never wants to see you again, but you’d understand if Jake requests that.
It’s the last day before you move back into the dormitory. You’re lounging on the couch with Myeong who is watching Crazy Rich Asians while she paints her toes. You’re laser focused on your phone, struggling to come up with a text to send to Jake. You really want to see him again.
Someone knocks on your door.
“I’ll get it,” you tell Myeong, gladly distracting yourself from the daunting task you assigned yourself. Dressed in old, short, denim shorts, and a ratty old t-shirt that boasts Disneyland’s 50th Anniversary, you open the door. “Hi--”
Jake stands on your doorstep, holding a bouquet of red roses. His hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a white blouse that’s been paired with black slacks. He looks breathtaking. Literally. You can’t breathe.
“Y/N,” Jake smiles gently, and holds out the bouquet for you to take. “You look beautiful.”
You snort, still unable to move.
“Don't leave me hanging, Y/N,” Jake says.
“What are you doing here, Jake?” You finally find your voice, and your arm reaches out to take hold of the rose bouquet.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Jake admits. “And a lot of that thinking has been about you.”
You stare at Jake, wide-eyed, and if you were able to see yourself, there’s probably stars in your eyes. You grip the rose bouquet tighter. “You’ve been thinking? About me?”
Jake nods his head. “About you. And our time together. And I realized that if we had spent more time together, I would have fallen in love with you.”
You feel faint. “Oh, wow.” Your mouth feels dry, and it’s hard to breathe.
“You’re very lovable, Y/N,” Jake’s smile is just as bright as the sun, and his eyes hold galaxies that are far prettier than the one you’re existing in. “And I’m sorry for making you feel alone. Friends or dating, I should never let someone feel like that. I’m sorry for not standing up for you.”
“It’s okay, Jake,” you laugh off the insanity you’re feeling. “I’m over it. Really.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Y/N.”
You smile softly, raising the roses to your nose. “It’s okay, Jake.”
Jake nods his head. “Alright. Cool. I’m -- I’m glad.” He looks up at the sky, with tense shoulders, and closes his eyes. He looks unsure of himself and you let out a small, amused giggle. Jake glances back at you, and everything in him relaxes. He inhales deeply. “So, I was wondering, Y/N, if you’d like to go out with me. Tonight. On a real date.”
It’s silent for a long time.
“You can say no --”
“You’re a very hard person to get over, Jake,” you admit.
“I am?”
You nod your head. “I think it’s stupid how you still occupy my heart.”
“It’s stupid?”
You smile. “Very stupid. But that’s okay, because it makes me stupidly in love with you.”
“Oh.”
“Give me fifteen minutes. Myeong’s watching Crazy Rich Asians, so you can keep her company while I get changed and --”
Jake cuts you off with a kiss. His lips are warm against yours. When he draws away, his eyes are like molten honey. It’s like he’s melting right in front of you, love oozing from every inch of skin that you can see. “Sorry,” Jake flushes. “I couldn’t help myself. You look really cute, Y/N.”
he's gonna start giggling as soon as he gets the notes because he loves the idea of young love.
literally squeaks with hand on his mouth
brother doesn't even know that the teacher is digging holes on his head rn
somehow the idea it young love snatching too quick ( also getting blamed somehow for ruining your chances) gets his stomach churning and his heart hurting (he breaks out in hives if he thinks ppl hate him)
so when the teacher tries to grab the note
he panics and ends up stuffing it down his mouth.
now he's sitting in the nurse's office with an upset stomach and a rumor that yeonjun likes eating papers.
you come to visit him with tears in your eyes and a bouquet of flowers for his sacrifice.
SOOBIN...
literally cold shoulders anyone that is pspsing towards him
like you could be scratching his shoulder with your nails for him to pay attention to you so you can ask him for help.
his shirt is bleeding but he refuses to turn his face in case he gets roped into this bs
you can't literally physically move his head like this man has an iron resolute
he IS NOT TURNING BACK.
he is NOT getting himself into dumb shit like this and risking getting caught with a juvenile ass slip.
like get the hint ffs
lowkey a snob but he's also very cute so he gets away with shit.
teacher: you're late soobie boobie doobie :(
soobin: erm aegyo? 🙄
lowkey a teacher's pet as in
the teacher is mad heart eyes for him and let's him cheat in tests.
BEOMGYU...
hundred percent on board but
first he is curious so he like tries to slyly read the paper
gasps very loudly in a very quiet classroom
when the teacher catches his ass he is very keen tattling whose note it actually is
his eyes are actually shining while he tells about whose note it is and how innocent he is
literally pulls a half eaten bag of chips discreetly from his backpack to eat while he watches you get your ass handed back to you
melts the chips in mouth so that he doesn't get caught.
like so now YOU ARE DISCREET??!
probably gets jumped after school
TAEHYUN...
contrary to popular belief,
taehyun is a very social person and also lowkey a people pleaser.
so when he gets asked and he's starry eyed like
“leave this up to me friend”
he is literally studying the movement of the teachers feet and how many steps it takes for the teacher to reach the end of the backboard
he is pulling a calculator out and scribbling into his notes to count the sequence of his footsteps.
has already recruited five other persons to act as distraction and two others as envoys.
he makes sure to slide past benches, avoid the teacher's hawk gaze and all those cinematic tasks to help you pass the slip.
you promise to name your first child after him.
HUENING KAI...
you think he's gonna refuse you politely.
but he's very efficient surprisingly.
rather than passing the notes through a few more benches.
he decides to take one for the team and goes up to the teacher to ask a few questions to stall him.
“what came first professor? chicken or egg?“
“... this is political history kai.. “
“so you don't know professor 🤨”
ends up gaslighting the professor into a whole ass debate about the origin of this question and how much it has affected the history throughout the years.
you're deciding the destination for your honeymoon while all these are taking place.
kai ends up getting a recommendation letter for his out of box thinking and you get a s/o
it's a win win
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hii! i haven't even started writing on tumblr yet but i wish for others to get inspo from my ideas, too. essentially, whatever plot I'm putting out is for free use. but if somebody specifically asks me to write one of these ideas, i'll do a poll when I'm more familiar with this site!
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
stormborns
2087
ellievsbear
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
