Tags: Smut, groping, Mutual pining, phone sex, oral (f , m receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, begging, praise, soft dom Minho, tension snapping like a wire, domestic fluff, aftercare, post-sex vulnerability, tit play, friends to lovers
Word count: 8k
Summary: You always thought Minho was gay—so you never held back. Tiny tops, unfiltered stories, late-night cuddles… harmless, right?Until he sees you soaked through one day and finally snaps. And suddenly, your best friend isn’t looking at you like a friend anymore. Until one late-night phone call changed everything. Now you’re at his door—no bra, no excuse—buzzing from the sound of his voice and the filthy things he made you do. He opens the door. He sees you. And just like that, it’s over. The line is crossed.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
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You’d known Lee Minho since you were barely old enough to walk without holding onto his shirt.
Back then, he was just that loud kid who shared his snacks and shoved you into mud puddles. Now? He was your best friend. Constant. Loyal. Always down to pick you up when you were drunk or kill spiders or fake-boyfriend you out of awkward situations.
And also—totally not into girls.
At least, that’s what you’d always assumed.
He never talked about hookups. Never ogled girls. Never so much as blinked when you pranced around in your tiny shorts or ranted about your latest sex-related disaster. You figured he was either the most respectful man alive—or playing for a different team.
So you got reckless. Comfortable.
And today?
You were about to find out just how wrong you’d been.
It started with the kitchen sink.
You were washing dishes, half-dancing to your playlist, wearing nothing but those soft cotton shorts and an oversized white tank with no bra underneath. Your wet hair clung to your neck, and you were humming through a verse when the faucet burst—literally—spraying a jet of cold water straight at your chest.
“FUCK—shit, fuck—” You stumbled back, grabbing at the handle, slipping on the tile as water drenched you from neck to stomach.
And that’s when Minho walked in.
“Yo, I got the charger you—”
He froze.
You blinked at him, soaked and panting, hair plastered to your cheeks.
Water trickled down the front of your now see-through top. The fabric clung to every inch of your skin. And your nipples? Standing out like full spotlight, front row through the sheer cotton. You had no idea though, no time to even think about it before he had appeared.
“Oh.” You laughed, awkward. “Um—hi. Broken faucet. Don’t mind the wet t-shirt contest.”
He didn’t answer.
Just stood there.
Eyes glued to your chest, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring like he was trying to hold his breath.
Your smile faded.
“Min?”
His gaze finally snapped to your face.
Too late.
You saw it—the tension. The fire.
The unmistakable flicker of hunger.
And suddenly your stomach flipped.
“…Minho?”
He swallowed hard, voice low. Rough.
“Put something on. Now.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I said—” His eyes dropped again before yanking back up. “Go change. Now. Before I do something really fucking stupid.”
Your heart skipped.
Because that? That didn’t sound like your best friend.
You stood there in wet silence, your soaked top clinging to your skin like a second damn layer, Minho couldn’t meet your eyes.
He turned his back to you—turned his back—and gripped the edge of your countertop like he was grounding himself. His shoulders rose with each breath, tense as hell, like someone trying not to explode.
You’d never seen him like this. Not with you.
“I wasn’t—Min, I didn’t mean—” you stammered, brain short-circuiting. “I didn’t know you were coming over yet.”
His voice was clipped. “You knew the faucet was broken.”
“I didn’t know it was gonna blast me in the tits!”
Silence.
A beat.
Then, quietly—so quietly—you heard it:
“Jesus Christ…”
That’s when something finally clicked.
You looked down at yourself—at the sheer fabric sticking to your breasts, nipples hard, outline of your curves totally exposed. And for the first time in all the years of being this careless around him, you suddenly felt self-conscious.
You reached for a dish towel and held it over your chest.
“…Are you mad at me?” you asked, voice small.
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
You stepped closer.
“Then what’s going on?”
He shook his head, still facing away. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Try me.”
He let out a breath that sounded more like a growl, and when he finally turned around, you caught it again—that look. Raw, unfiltered restraint. His gaze flicked down to the towel you’d pressed to your chest, then back to your face.
You watched him like he was someone else.
Like the Minho you grew up with had peeled off his skin and left something sharper underneath. His jaw was tight, arms folded, eyes still avoiding yours—but you felt it now. That edge. That static charge that had been humming under the surface for who knows how long.
“I’ll fix the faucet later,” he muttered, stepping past you—carefully. Like you were made of glass. Or fire.
You turned as he moved, towel still clutched to your chest.
“You didn’t answer me,” you said.
“About what?”
“Why you told me to change.”
He stopped at the door.
Didn’t turn around.
For a long second, you thought he wouldn’t say anything at all.
Then, quietly, he replied:
“Because if I’d kept looking at you, I don’t think I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
And when he walked out of the kitchen, just like that, it was like the whole room shifted.
The air changed.
Everything felt warmer. Tighter. Thinner.
You didn’t move for a while. Not until the cold in your soaked top finally made your skin sting.
⸻
The rest of the day passed weirdly.
Minho didn’t leave, of course. He stayed like he always did, lounging on your couch, bickering over what to order for dinner, side-eyeing you every time you grabbed your phone.
But the energy between you?
Completely different.
He didn’t look at you the way he usually did. Didn’t tease you like normal. Didn’t even touch you when he passed you the remote—just tossed it like it might burn him otherwise.
And you couldn’t stop thinking about his voice in the kitchen.
“I don’t think I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Kept it shut about what, exactly?
What he was thinking?
What he wanted to do?
You were still thinking about it when you came out of your room later in a sleep shirt that barely skimmed your thighs. No bra. Nothing underneath. The usual you-in-your-element vibe.
Except… this time?
You caught him looking.
Not accidentally.
Not briefly.
He looked—and kept looking.
From your legs to your hips to the faint hint of nipple under the thin fabric, straight to your face.
Your breath caught.
He didn’t apologize.
He didn’t blink.
He just raised a brow—almost like a dare—and said, “Your sink’s still fucked.”
You nodded, slowly.
“So are you gonna fix it?”
He stood up.
And as he passed by, way too close, his hand brushed the curve of your lower back.
Just a touch.
Too casual to be called a grab. Too deliberate to be innocent.
And then he was gone again, heading into the kitchen.
Like it hadn’t just happened at all.
⸻
He always crashed in your bed. That wasn’t new.
Late movie nights, sleepy arguments, limbs tangled and breathing synced—just best friends, just comfort.
Except tonight?
You felt everything.
His warmth at your back. The heaviness of his arm draped around your waist. The intentional silence of him pretending to be asleep, even though you could feel how tense he was.
You’d turned off the lights twenty minutes ago, but your body was still buzzing. Hyperaware of every inch of skin not covered by your flimsy sleep shirt. Every inch of him pressed against you in the dark.
And you knew—you knew—he hadn’t stopped thinking about earlier.
About how you’d looked dripping wet, nipples hard, shirt transparent and clinging to your curves like a second skin.
You should’ve felt awkward.
But instead, your thighs were clenched.
And then—His hand moved.
Just a little.
At first, it was nothing. A small adjustment. His fingers splayed over your stomach like they were stretching in his sleep. But then his palm drifted higher.
Slow.
Barely grazing the underside of your breast through your shirt.
Your breath caught.
His did too.
Like he just realized what his body was doing.
He didn’t pull away.
Not immediately.
His fingers twitched, tips brushing right beneath the curve of your boob—soft, tentative. Still pretending it was nothing. That he was asleep. That this wasn’t completely out of bounds.
Your chest rose and fell faster now.
He still didn’t speak.
But his hand stayed there.
Hovering. Teasing. The edge of a full touch, like he was testing himself. Or punishing himself.
And you?
You didn’t stop him.
You didn’t even breathe.
You just pressed back into him slightly—so slightly—and felt the undeniable shape of him, hard and restrained against the swell of your ass.
He exhaled shakily behind you.
Shit.
You’d never heard him make a sound like that before. Not around you.
Not around anyone.
You didn’t move for a while.
Didn’t even blink. Not when his fingers hovered beneath your breast, not when you felt his cock pressed firm and restrained against the curve of your ass. You just stayed still—heart hammering, skin burning—like your body was listening for his next move.
But when none came…
You shifted.
Just a little. Barely a breath of movement. Just enough to arch your back, push your chest forward, and guide the soft swell of your breast right into his palm.
His fingers twitched again.
But he didn’t pull away.
He didn’t say your name. Didn’t jerk back in shock or guilt. He just stayed there—completely still behind you, breathing shallow and slow like he was holding onto sleep as a defense.
Your nipples were hard beneath the thin cotton, the heat of his palm sinking through the fabric like an electric brand. It was barely a touch—but it felt filthy. Loaded. More intimate than anything you’d done with someone you were actually sleeping with.
And still, you stayed quiet.
Still.
Sleeping.
His thumb brushed the soft curve below your nipple. Just once. Barely there. Like a reflex.
And this time, his hips shifted too.
The press of him against your ass sharpened—more deliberate now. Less restrained. Like his body had stopped asking for permission and started taking what you weren’t stopping.
His hand tightened—slightly.
He was pretending to be asleep, you realized.
Just like you were.
If either of you acknowledged it, the world would crack open.
So you didn’t.
You just let it happen.
Let his hand cup your breast like it was meant to be there. Let his hips roll forward in the slowest, tiniest grind. Let your legs shift apart just enough that your thighs stopped brushing—and instead, welcomed.
He let out another one of those breaths—low, shaky, wrecked.
You smiled into the pillow.
Still not breathing.
Still “asleep.”
And behind you, your best friend since diapers was losing his last scrap of composure.
—
The morning came too fast.
Sunlight crept through your curtains like it knew what happened. Like it saw every second of that not-a-dream moment where his hand cupped your breast and his hips rolled into yours like it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined it.
He was already in the kitchen when you woke up.
Hair messy, hoodie wrinkled, acting like everything was normal. Like he hadn’t spent the night wrapped around you with his cock pressed to your ass and his hand full of your tit.
You padded out barefoot, keeping your face unreadable.
He handed you a mug. “You were out cold.”
Liar.
You took it, fingers brushing his, watching him too closely.
“So were you.”
A flicker—barely there—but his eyes twitched toward you for a split second. Like he was trying to see if you meant something more.
You let him sit with the tension.
You drank your coffee slow.
“You ever think…” you began softly, “maybe I’ve just been really fucking stupid?”
He looked up from his cereal. “Since when?”
You tilted your head. “Since assuming you weren’t into girls.”
He blinked. Slowly. Carefully.
That… got his attention.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh it off. Just sat there—silent—and then brought the spoon to his mouth like nothing had happened.
But his voice, when he finally answered, was low. Controlled.
“What makes you ask that?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. You never dated any. Never flirted. You never reacted when I walked around like—” you gestured vaguely at yourself—“this. So I figured, you know. Must be the reason.”
Another pause.
His eyes dropped to your thighs.
You were wearing the same sleep shirt.
No bra still.
Of course he noticed.
But he didn’t give you that satisfaction. He set the spoon down and leaned back in the chair, stretching lazily like his body hadn’t betrayed him eight hours ago in your bed.
“Maybe I’m just good at not talking about certain things,” he said.
That hit harder than it should have.
You stared at him.
And for the first time in a long time—you didn’t see your best friend.
You saw a man who’d been holding himself back for years.
You’d never stared at his crotch before.
That was the first red flag.
You weren’t even trying to. Just sitting across from him on the couch while he scrolled through his phone, hoodie riding up slightly, grey sweatpants loose and slung criminally low on his hips. You weren’t supposed to notice the shape beneath. The outline. The fact that you recognized the pressure of it against your ass last night because it had left an imprint on your nervous system.
You blinked away quickly.
Jesus.
You sipped your water like it could douse whatever fire had started in your chest—and your thighs.
He didn’t notice.
Of course he didn’t.
Lee Minho was the king of unreadable faces. That man could watch you strip naked and probably wouldn’t flinch. It was part of the reason you’d always felt safe around him. And the same reason you were losing your mind now.
You needed to know.
If you were wrong. If he’d just been hiding in plain sight. If that touch last night had been a fluke. A dream. Or something darker.
So you tested it.
That evening, while he sat on the floor building a shelf you couldn’t be bothered to finish, you leaned in behind him.
Loose tank top. Braless as usual. Intentional bend.
He turned slightly. Saw your chest from the side—too close, too exposed, one nipple practically peeking through the armhole.
His jaw clenched.
But he said nothing.
Strike one.
You tried again.
Pulled your hair up messily, exposing your neck, your back. Made small, breathy sounds when you stretched. Loud enough to hear. Soft enough to pass as innocent.
Still nothing.
Strike two.
You were practically writhing at this point. Trying to piss him off or fluster him, something.
But Lee Minho stayed quiet.
You weren’t sure what exactly you were trying to prove anymore.
That he wasn’t gay? That he wanted you? That you could still control this friendship even when everything was shifting beneath your feet?
Maybe it was all of it.
But you were already halfway in his lap before you had time to second guess it.
“You’re not good at building shit,” you teased, voice sweet as sugar while you hovered close, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. “Lucky I’m cute enough to get away with watching instead of helping.”
He grunted—low, disinterested. But his eyes betrayed him. You saw the flicker—straight to your chest, to the deep dip of cleavage you’d made extra sure he’d notice.
Bingo.
You leaned closer. Pretending to inspect a screw on the shelf. Your tits brushed his upper arm.
He went still.
“You okay there, Min?” you asked softly. Coy.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t start.”
“Start what?”
“This,” he said. He didn’t look at you. “Whatever game you’re playing right now.”
“I’m not playing anything.”
“Yes, you are.”
You tilted your head. “What are you talking about?”
Silence.
Then, quieter: “I’m warning you.”
Oh, that did something to you.
He sounded like he meant it. Like he was afraid of himself more than you. And maybe he should’ve been—because you were reckless now. Hyped up on the taste of your own power, drunk on the image of him with your tit in his hand last night.
You pulled your tank top aside from the arm hole just a little. No bra. Just the soft swell of skin—more than enough to tempt. His eyes snapped to it instantly.
“Go ahead,” you whispered. “Touch me.”
He swallowed.
Didn’t move.
So you took his hand yourself—slowly, deliberately—and pressed it to your breast.
Flesh to palm.
He exhaled sharp. Visibly flinched. But he didn’t pull away.
You arched into his touch.
“You’ve never been curious?” you asked, voice lower now, almost daring. “Never once wondered what they felt like? You’ve known me your whole life, Minho…”
His thumb twitched. Brushed the underside like he didn’t even know he was doing it.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
You smiled faintly.
But then he tightened his grip—just slightly—and your breath caught.
“You think I’ve been ignoring you all these years?” he asked, voice dark now. Steady. Dangerous. “You think I don’t notice when you walk around half naked? You think I don’t see the way your tits bounce when you laugh?”
You froze.
Oh.
Oh shit.
“You think I don’t feel them when you’re sleeping pressed against me?” His thumb brushed up now—barely grazing your nipple. It stiffened instantly. So did you.
“Minho…”
His hand dropped away suddenly, like he was snapping out of it.
“You need to stop,” he said, standing up too fast. “Before you push me too far.”
You stared up at him from the floor, dazed.
For the first time… you realized you might’ve already pushed too far.
—
It was hours later when you finally crawled into bed.
He was already in it—lying on his side, facing away, blanket riding low on his waist and exposing the tight line of muscle up his back.
Your heart was still pounding.
He hadn’t said a single thing after storming out earlier. Not during dinner. Not while you cleaned the mess from the half-finished shelf. Not while you avoided looking at him like he hadn’t cupped your tit like a stress ball.
And now you were lying beside him again, like nothing had changed.
You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed.
You turned your back to him, the usual position when you shared a bed, but the air felt different tonight. Dense. Stifling.
“Hey,” you whispered in the dark. “Are we… okay?”
His voice came low. Controlled. “You tell me.”
You swallowed. “You seemed… upset earlier.”
“I was,” he said. “I’m not anymore.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
Then, casually:
“You looked at my dick today.”
You choked. “What?! No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
You rolled onto your back, flustered. “You can’t prove that.”
“I don’t need to. I know your face. I’ve known it since you had baby teeth.”
You blinked at the ceiling. Your face was burning.
He shifted then—closer. The bed dipped behind you. His chest met your back.
And something else pressed against your ass.
Hard. Solid. Undeniable.
You gasped.
His lips brushed your ear. Calm. Evil.
“That’s payback,” he said softly, “for putting your tits in my hand.”
You forgot how to breathe.
He didn’t move.
Neither did you.
The air between you was molten now, and his cock—fuck, that was his cock—was still heavy and pulsing against your ass like he was proud of it.
“Minho…”
“You wanted to know,” he said, voice silk and fire. “You’ve been trying to get a reaction out of me all day. So now you’ve got one.”
You felt him smirk.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured. “Too much?”
You couldn’t answer.
Not when your thighs were squeezing together like they had a mind of their own. Not when your heart was a drum and your skin burned where it touched his.
You didn’t say anything at first.
Just stayed frozen in place, his cock pressed thick and solid against the soft curve of your ass, your entire body vibrating with heat.
Your lips moved before your brain could stop them.
“…Can I touch it?”
Silence.
Not even a breath behind you.
Then— “What?”
You swallowed, your voice weirdly calm now. “I just… I wanna feel it. Like—actually feel it. With my hand.”
A sound escaped his throat. Sharp. Choked.
“You’re kidding.”
You turned around slowly, facing him in the dark. His eyes locked on yours—blown, stunned, like you’d slapped him with a brick made of sin.
You didn’t wait for another answer.
Your eyes dropped straight to his crotch.
And your hand followed.
The blanket shifted just enough as you slipped beneath it, and your palm found him right where he’d pressed up against you before—still just as thick, still painfully hard, straining beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
You cupped him gently.
Minho jerked.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, face twisting. “What the hell are you doing…”
“Just curious,” you murmured, gaze fixed on the shape of him under your hand. “You’re so… big.”
He groaned, head dropping back into the pillow.
Your fingers squeezed lightly. You were sure you felt him twitch.
“You’ve been like this all night?” you asked, eyes wide.
He hissed through his teeth. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Why not?” you teased, still stroking. “It’s not like I’m doing anything serious.”
“That’s the fucking problem,” he gritted out, hips twitching into your hand.
You explored him like you were learning something new, weighing the heft of him through his pants, tracing the long, thick outline up and down.
He was breathing heavier now. Jaw clenched. Eyes shut.
“You can tell me to stop,” you whispered.
He didn’t.
So you slipped your hand inside.
No warning.
Just fingers beneath the waistband, sliding inside until you were wrapping your hand around bare, hot skin.
Minho choked.
“Fuck—fuck—”
You stroked slowly, palm tight around the base, sliding up to the head and back again. He was massive. Velvet over steel. Already leaking a little at the tip.
He bucked into your hand before he could stop himself, hips twitching under the weight of your touch.
“Is this payback too?” you asked, lips barely moving.
His eyes flew open.
“Keep talking and I’ll fuck your throat instead.”
Your hand froze.
Your heart flipped.
Your thighs clenched so hard it hurt.
But then, you looked up at him. Still holding him. Still stroking him.
His cock twitched in your hand, thick and aching, as you slowly dragged your fingers up the shaft and back down, your touch featherlight—teasing.
Minho’s eyes were glassy now, dark and stormy and wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. His jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.
You felt powerful. Dangerous.
So you looked up at him—bold, daring—and said, “So? Still want me to stop?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just blinked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. His voice came hoarse and wrecked.
“Are you crazy?”
You tilted your head. “Maybe.”
“This is—” He swallowed. “We’re—”
“Friends?” you offered, sliding your hand again, slower now. “Childhood besties? Practically siblings?”
He winced. “God, don’t say that.”
You smiled.
And then, without another word, you sat up on your knees and tugged your oversized sleep shirt over your head—bare underneath. Just skin and heat and those same soft breasts he’d felt in his hands earlier.
They bounced slightly as you moved, and the room went still.
His breath hitched. His eyes dropped—dragged—to your chest.
It was the second time he’d seen them that night.
“I’m sure,” you said simply.
Something broke in him.
He sat up so fast the mattress shook, one hand grabbing your wrist, the other threading hard into your hair. He yanked you forward, his mouth crashing into yours with so much heat it knocked the breath from your lungs.
You gasped into the kiss, and he devoured it—biting, claiming, groaning into your mouth like he’d been starving for years.
“This what you wanted?” he growled, lips trailing down your neck, teeth dragging over your collarbone. “You really wanted to see what I’d do?”
You whimpered, nodding, fingers already clawing at the waistband of his sweats.
“Too late to take it back now,” he muttered against your skin, before ducking down and wrapping his lips around your nipple—hard.
Your back arched. His tongue flicked, sucked, bit.
“Minho—”
“I’ve dreamed about these,” he groaned, switching to the other breast, kneading the first one in his palm like he was worshiping it. “You don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me.”
Your whole body was trembling, his hands now everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding down your back, yanking you flush against his chest as he rutted up into you, his cock still trapped in his sweats, still throbbing.
“Need to feel you,” he rasped. “Need to have you.”
“Then take me,” you breathed. Without even thinking about it.
And for a second, Minho froze.
Not because he didn’t want to—his hands were already sliding lower, gripping your hips with bruising force—but because the way you’d said it… so open, so needy, so real… it shook him.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he whispered, forehead pressing against yours, his voice raw, trembling. “Because if I start, I won’t stop this time.”
Your chest heaved against his, nipples dragging over his skin, and his self-control nearly snapped again right there. You could feel him under you, thick and hot through the fabric of his sweats, the tip pressed right against your soaked panties. One shift of your hips and—
“I’m not asking you to stop,” you whispered back.
He groaned, low and guttural, like the sound had been buried in his chest for years. You kissed him again—slow, deep, your tongues tangling like this wasn’t the first time. Like your bodies already knew the steps.
And maybe they did.
His hand slid between your thighs, pressing the heel of his palm right where you were aching most. Your hips jerked.
“Already soaked,” he rasped, biting down on your lip. “Fuck—have you always been like this around me?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. His fingers dipped beneath your waistband, brushing over your soaked folds through your underwear—just enough to make you moan.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, mouth now at your ear, voice shaking. “You keep tempting me like this, and I swear—”
“Then burn me,” you whispered, grinding down on his hand.
He snapped again—grabbing your ass and flipping you onto your back like he’d been holding back all his life. The sudden dominance in his movements made your breath hitch.
Minho hovered over you, both of you half-naked now, tangled in sweatpants and damp underwear and a thousand repressed thoughts.
His hand moved with purpose now, cupping your mound, rubbing slow circles over your clit, lips pressed to your neck.
You whimpered, bucked.
“Don’t tease,” you begged.
He chuckled darkly. “Says the one who’s been waving her tits in my face for years.”
You gasped—half embarrassed, half turned on—and he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he said softly. “Or I’m going to ruin your sleep.”
You stared at him, panting. You wanted him. Needed him. But something inside you whispered—not yet. Not like this. Not while everything was still unraveling too fast.
“Not tonight,” you murmured, heart racing.
His expression shifted, softening in a way that made your chest ache.
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
But his fingers didn’t move right away. He gave you one last teasing brush, slow and aching.
“For the record,” he added, voice like gravel, “this is me trying to behave.”
You giggled, breathless.
“I can tell.”
And then he pulled you into his chest, kissed your forehead, and let the fire between you simmer.
You didn’t have sex that night.
But neither of you slept much, either.
⸻
It had only been three days.
Three days since Minho had slipped out with nothing but a cryptic, “I’ll see you later,” and a soft kiss to your temple. Two days since you’d almost let your best friend finger you into oblivion under the safety of your shared covers. And now he was gone.
Well, not gone-gone. Just back at his apartment. Just out of reach. Just far enough to not risk really doing what your bodies had been begging for.
He hadn’t ghosted. Not exactly. Just a little space, a few texts. “Sorry, been busy.” “Work’s a lot this week.” “I’ll come by soon.”
But soon wasn’t now. And now… was when you were sprawled out on your bed, fingers between your thighs, a familiar silicone toy buzzing softly inside you—desperate to chase that same friction you almost got from him.
It wasn’t the same. Nothing could be. But the thoughts in your head? Those were filthy enough to get the job done.
Your mind kept flashing back to the night before he left: his voice in your ear, his thick cock pressed to your core, the way he’d looked at you like he’d been starving. You whined as your hips rolled, tightening your grip on the toy buried inside you.
Then your phone lit up.
Minho calling.
You froze, heart skipping. Fuck.
You hesitated just long enough for it to ring again—and then answered, trying to level your breath.
“Hey,” you managed, voice just a bit too airy.
“Hey,” he said, voice casual, low. “Were you sleeping?”
“Nope.” You exhaled hard through your nose, the vibrator still inside you, pulsing away like it knew your secrets. “Just… relaxing.”
“Mmm.” His voice dropped, curious. “You sound out of breath.”
You swallowed. Hard. “Tired day. I was just—y’know. Lying down.”
The vibrator kicked up just a notch, and your thighs jerked. He kept talking.
“Sorry I’ve been MIA. Been thinking about you, though.” His voice was warm, familiar. God, his voice. “A lot, actually.”
A sharp breath escaped you. You hoped it sounded natural. It didn’t.
“…You okay?” he asked, his tone shifting just slightly. “You sound—off.”
You could barely think anymore. Your head was buzzing. Your thighs were trembling. And you didn’t dare stop.
“I’m fine,” you rasped.
But then you whimpered. Barely. Just a little hitch in your throat.
He paused. “Wait. Are you—are you doing something?”
Your whole body froze.
“No,” you lied, voice high.
He went quiet. Too quiet.
“…Are you touching yourself right now?” His voice came low, dangerous. “While on the phone with me?”
Silence.
Then, another breathy whimper.
He growled. “Fuck. You are.”
You felt heat shoot up your spine.
“Keep going,” he said, voice gravel now. “Don’t stop. You started this.”
Your hips rolled again—slower this time, more deliberate—as you listened to him breathe, listened to the weight behind his words.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he demanded. “While you fuck yourself to my voice.”
You bit down on your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut as his words settled under your skin like molten honey.
“Tell me,” he said again, voice a touch lower, rougher now. “What were you thinking about?”
You whimpered. “You.”
He chuckled. Dark. Breathless.
“Yeah? What about me?”
You hesitated, hips twitching as your toy nudged just right inside you. “The way you felt that night,” you gasped. “The way you pressed into me from behind… the way your cock felt against me, even through the sheets—”
“Fuck.”
His reaction was sharp and immediate, a barely controlled groan through clenched teeth. You knew his hand was probably fisting the sheets or his thigh right now, trying to stop himself from touching the one thing he couldn’t have—yet.
“Are you still touching yourself?” he asked, voice thick.
“…Yes.”
“Good. Faster.”
The single command shot straight to your gut. Your fingers moved in rhythm with the toy now, chasing the heat blooming deep in your belly. You didn’t even care if he heard your wetness or the whines building in your throat anymore.
“Wish I could see you,” he breathed. “Wish I could have my hand over your mouth. You’re too loud, babe. You’d wake the whole damn building if I fucked you right now.”
“Minho—”
“Not yet,” he cut in. “You’ll come when I say so. Not a second sooner.”
You squeezed around the toy, aching, desperate, toes curling.
“Keep going. Just like that.” His voice was pure sin now, molten and slow. “You’ll come with my voice in your ear and my name on your lips, just like you should’ve that night.”
You whimpered.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say my name.”
“Minho—”
“Louder.”
“Minho.”
“Good girl,” he rasped. “Now come.”
You shattered.
Your back arched off the bed, thighs quaking, moan spilling raw and unfiltered from your lips as your body pulsed around the toy. You didn’t even try to hold it in anymore—he needed to hear it. He deserved to.
Silence stretched on the line after, only your wrecked breathing and the distant rasp of his own breath filling the space between you.
When he finally spoke again, it was with the voice of a man barely holding back his hunger.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he said softly, deadly. “Next time I get my hands on you… I’m not stopping until you forget anyone else ever made you come.”
The call ended.
You blinked at the screen, dazed, thighs still trembling.
But you didn’t sleep.
You changed into the first half-decent outfit you could find, tugged your hoodie over your head, and grabbed your keys with your heart hammering in your throat.
If he wasn’t going to come to you?
You’d damn well go to him.
—
You almost turned around three times. Once at the stoplight. Again when you parked in front of his building. And one last time while standing at his door, staring at the stupid number you’d memorized when you were ten.
You shouldn’t have been here.
But your body didn’t care. Not when it was still buzzing, still throbbing from the orgasm he commanded out of you through the phone not ten minutes ago. Your thighs were sticky, your bottom lip sore from how hard you’d been biting it in the car, nerves coiling in your belly like a wire about to snap.
Showing up like this—unannounced, in shorts that barely passed as clothing, no bra under your thin hoodie—wasn’t just reckless. It was deliberate. Dangerous.
You raised your hand and knocked before you could talk yourself out of it.
Footsteps came quickly. Heavy. The door flew open seconds later, and there he was.
Minho.
Still shirtless.
Sweatpants slung low on his hips. Hair a mess like he’d been pacing. His jaw was tense, chest rising like he hadn’t calmed down since the call ended. His eyes found yours and locked in like he could see through you.
He didn’t say a word.
Just looked at you.
Slow. Hungry. His gaze dragged from your flushed face to the zipper of your hoodie and lower—lingering on your bare thighs.
You shifted, suddenly feeling way too exposed.
“Say something,” you whispered.
His voice came out hoarse.
“You’re insane.”
“I know.”
Another pause. The air between you tightened.
He stepped forward. Just one step—and you backed up, your breath hitching.
“No bra?” he muttered like it hurt him. “You show up like this after what just happened—fuck—”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” You bit your lip, heat crawling up your neck. “I didn’t want to wait.”
That was it.
He snapped.
You didn’t even see him move—just felt the door slam shut behind you as he pushed you up against it, one arm shooting out to lock it without looking. His hands came to either side of your head, bracing himself like he was seconds away from self-destruction.
His breath hit your lips.
Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, like he was holding back something feral.
“Last chance,” he growled. “If you tell me right now you’re not sure, I’ll let you go. I’ll jerk off in the shower until my knees give out and pretend you never begged to come in my ear.”
Your throat tightened.
“I’m sure.”
That was all it took.
His mouth crashed into yours. Hungry. Deep. Unapologetic. It hit you like a wave—his tongue sliding in, his grip tightening, his body pressing flush against yours with an intensity that made your knees buckle.
One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head, while the other found your waist and gripped—like he was claiming territory.
A moan escaped into his mouth as you clung to his shoulders, pulling him closer, anchoring yourself to the storm that was him.
Minho’s mouth was still glistening with you when he picked you up—one arm under your thighs, the other around your back. He didn’t even blink. Just carried you down the hall like it was nothing, your head pressed to his neck, body boneless from how hard he’d made you come.
His bed was unmade.
Sheets tossed. Pillows scattered. And you were in them seconds later, back hitting the mattress with a bounce.
Minho stood at the edge of the bed and looked at you.
Like he’d waited years for this moment. Like you were a fantasy come to life and he was deciding whether to kneel at your feet or tear you apart.
“You still want this?” he asked, voice low—gravel and smoke.
You didn’t answer. You showed him—legs spreading wider, hips tilting, your hand sliding down to part your slick folds. His eyes darkened.
“Fuck, okay,” he breathed, like he was short-circuiting. “Okay, baby.”
He crawled over you like a shadow, slow and heavy, his mouth finding your jaw first—then your neck, then your collarbone, biting as he went.
“You’ve been mine since we were kids,” he murmured into your skin, tongue flicking over a mark he’d just left. “You just didn’t know it.”
You gasped when his hips rolled against yours, his cock rubbing through your soaked folds, huge and leaking and so hot against your cunt.
“You feel that?” he asked, dragging it up and down—your body arching, chasing it. “You’ve had me like this for years. All those skirts. All that attitude.”
He gripped your jaw, making you look at him.
“You think I didn’t notice the way you got careless around me?”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out—just a broken breath as he lined up, pressing just the tip in.
Your nails dug into his arms.
“Minho—”
“Shh,” he whispered. “I know, baby. I know.”
Then he pushed in.
Slow. Deep. Relentless.
And holy fuck.
Your eyes slammed shut, jaw dropping in a silent scream as he stretched you open. He didn’t stop until he was fully inside—until his hips were flush with yours and your cunt was full.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned into your neck. “So fucking tight.”
You could barely breathe. Could barely think.
He pulled back just enough to drive back in—and again—again—building a rhythm that knocked the sanity right out of your head.
Minho fucked like he was carving his name into your body.
He was everywhere—teeth on your throat, hands on your tits, hips snapping hard and deep like he needed to ruin you.
And he was talking, too. Filthy. Possessive. All in that growly voice that made your toes curl.
“You gonna let me fill you up, baby?”
“Gonna fuck you so full you feel me for days.”
“You were made for this. For me. For my cock.”
You cried out when he grabbed your thigh and folded you in half, slamming deeper, finding that spot that made your entire body lock up.
“Right there?” he growled, eyes glued to your face. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s your spot.”
You were sobbing now—wet, broken sounds as your second orgasm raced up your spine.
“Minho, please—I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he snapped. “Right now. All over my cock. Let me feel it.”
And you did. Harder than before—louder, messier, more intense.
You clenched around him like a vice, and he lost it—groaning loud as he slammed in one final time and spilled inside you, hips jerking, body trembling above yours.
He stayed like that—deep and twitching inside you, sweat dripping down his temple, lips ghosting over yours as you both tried to come down.
You didn’t know how long you laid there—legs trembling, his cum leaking out of you, your fingers tangled in the sheets like you were afraid of floating away.
Minho hadn’t moved much either.
He was still inside you, chest to chest, your noses brushing each time he inhaled. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking softly along your jaw as he watched you with those warm, sleepy eyes—eyes that held none of the fury or possessiveness from before.
Just softness. Almost guilt.
“You okay?” he asked, voice husky but gentler now.
You nodded, but your throat was tight. And when you blinked up at him, he leaned down to kiss the corner of your mouth. Then your nose. Then your temple.
“Did I go too far?” he murmured.
“No,” you whispered, your voice small. “I liked it. I liked all of it.”
That made his lips twitch.
“Yeah?” he said, brushing his knuckles across your tits—lingering when your breath caught. “Even when I told you to shut up and take it?”
You swallowed hard. “Especially then.”
He chuckled under his breath and finally pulled out, making both of you hiss. You whined at the emptiness—at how sore and stretched you felt—and Minho’s gaze immediately dropped between your legs.
“Shit,” he muttered, almost reverent. “Look at that mess.”
You flushed, shifting your legs, but he pressed a hand to your thigh to stop you.
“Don’t hide,” he murmured. “You look so good like this. All ruined because of me.”
Then, to your surprise, he slid down the bed and kissed your inner thigh. Just once. Then again. Then right next to your sensitive center.
You flinched. “Minho—too much—”
He smiled and looked up at you from between your legs.
“Alright, baby,” he said. “I’ll be good.”
And he was.
For about two minutes.
Then he kissed his way up your body—lingering on your nipples, dragging his tongue across them until they stiffened again. You whimpered as he sucked softly, then bit gently—making your hips buck.
“I just wanna taste them,” he murmured. “You kept arching for me earlier like they needed attention.”
“They still do,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.
He smirked. “Then don’t move.”
He licked and sucked until your chest was wet with his spit and your thighs pressed together again—need building back up in the pit of your stomach like a slow flame.
“Fuck,” you mumbled. “You’re gonna break me.”
He pulled back to look at you.
“Not yet,” he said, voice low. “But you did say you liked sucking cock, didn’t you?”
You blinked. “I—yeah—why—?”
He rolled off you and onto his back, cock already hard again—thick and flushed, still glistening from earlier.
“Then get over here.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
You crawled down the bed and straddled his thighs, eyes locked on the way he stroked himself, slow and heavy.
He tapped the tip against your lips. “Open up, baby.”
You did.
And he groaned the moment you took him in—just the head at first, tongue swirling around it, your lips tight and wet. He filled your mouth so easily, and you loved the way he shuddered when you gagged on him.
“That’s it,” he breathed, hand sliding into your hair. “So fucking pretty when you’re drooling on my cock.”
You moaned around him, and he twitched.
“You gonna swallow it all?” he asked, voice breaking a little. “You want me to come in your mouth this time?”
You sucked harder, nodding with tears in your eyes, and that was it.
He cursed—hips jerking, cock thickening—and seconds later he was spilling down your throat, one hand on your head as his other clutched the sheets.
You swallowed everything.
Every drop.
When you finally pulled off, eyes glassy and lips swollen, Minho reached for you and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead like he hadn’t just fucked your mouth like a man possessed.
“Now,” he whispered, pulling the blanket over both of you, “lets get some sleep.”
⸻
The morning light slipped in through the blinds in soft gold stripes, painting lazy patterns across the room.
You blinked awake slowly, body aching in the most indulgent way, wrapped in the scent of skin and sweat and fabric softener. The hoodie you had worn here last night was still crumpled somewhere on the floor—probably next to your shorts, your underwear, your dignity.
Minho’s arm was heavy around your waist. His chest was warm against your back. His breath ghosted over your shoulder in quiet puffs, slow and steady.
It didn’t feel real. It felt like one of those fantasies you used to jerk yourself off to in the dark, flushed and breathless, thinking about what it would feel like to fall asleep tangled up in him like this—after.
You stayed still as long as you could, just… absorbing it.
And then, of course, he ruined it by murmuring against your neck, voice still thick with sleep.
“Your thighs are twitching.”
You groaned. “Maybe because you almost broke them last night.”
He chuckled, low and pleased, then slid his hand over your hip and gave your inner thigh a light squeeze. “You came here cause you wanted me to do exactly that.”
Your cheeks flushed instantly. “Don’t remind me.”
“Why not? It’s my favorite memory now.”
You rolled over to face him, hair a mess, eyes still sleep-fogged. He looked unfairly gorgeous in the morning. Hair tousled. Eyes soft. The roughness from last night completely gone, replaced by something almost too gentle to be him.
He looked at you like he was thinking way too hard.
“What?” you asked quietly.
He reached up, brushed some hair from your face, fingers lingering at your jaw.
“You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”
Your breath caught.
“I mean…” he licked his lips, eyes searching yours. “It can be, if that’s what you want. But I don’t think I can go back to just being your best friend. Not after this.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just stared at him, trying to collect your heart off the floor where it had just dropped.
Finally, you whispered, “I don’t want to go back either.”
Minho exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath all night.
Then he leaned in and kissed you—soft and slow and sweet, like the question was already answered.
You melted into it. Into him. Into the shift.
Later, you’d get up. He’d make coffee. You’d steal one of his shirts. He’d tease you about the bite marks on your thighs. And you’d both pretend not to notice how domestic it already felt.
But for now, you stayed in bed—best friends turned something more—with his arms around you and your future somewhere in the spaces between his kisses.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors note: hi guys! Ok so the poll results from the Leeknow angry boy fic came out and it was a really close one. So instead of changing whats already written i decided to upload this to make it up to you guys! This is not an angst story or the angry boy replacement but this is a story for my romantics ❤️ Thanks alot for all your feedback really love you guys!
how are you supposed to remain sane around felix after the most inconceivable night of your entire life? spoiler; you can't
pairing: bff!felix × gn!reader
wc: 16.7k
content: college au, smut, fluff, angst, inexperienced(??) reader, switchy!felix, hickeys, dry humping, theyre both idiots, a few text message screenshots, friends to lovers, they.... kiss.......
a/n: sauur we made it. ty for sticking with me! i made myself sick writing this they are so cringe and sappy. pls be warned.... theyre insufferable.
[also read on ao3]
series — part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
—
Felix doesn't come back.
At least, you somehow managed to fall back asleep before he did, and now it's early morning, judging by the thin beams of sunlight peeking through the half-drawn blinds.
You sit up, squinting at the brightness and rub your eyes. Everything from last night comes back in a rush and you freeze mid-blink with a gasp.
Well, shit. Did that really happen?
You almost want to lie back down, pull the covers over your head and continue sleeping so you can pretend last night didn't happen in a vain hope of avoiding any and all embarrassment.
But, no. You'll have to get up eventually. Also, you need to pee. And where's Felix?
Reluctantly, you force yourself out of bed and head to the bathroom. It's empty. You take as long as you can to brush your teeth and wash your face with cold water, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You look normal, if a little tired.
You take a deep breath, trying to rationalize. What happened last night… It's a natural thing. It happens. It's not like Felix knew what he was doing, or that you were awake (and whose fault is that?). You just happened to be wrapped in his arms but it literally doesn't have to be a big deal. You honestly don't know shit about any of this but… Right? It's not a big deal. You can still be normal about this. About him.
That almost all goes out the window when you finally venture out of the bathroom.
Your feet stop moving as soon as you round the corner. The kitchen area is connected to the living room with no real barrier, so you have a full view of everything. Sure enough, there's Felix, standing by the stove with his back turned to you.
For a moment, it’s like nothing happened. This is just a normal morning after a sleepover with your best friend.
You can pretend.
You shuffle forward, clearing your throat.
He whips around at the sound of your voice and for a moment, he freezes, face blank before it morphs into a smile, and you immediately want to melt into a puddle and cease to exist because he looks like sin personified.
Maybe you're just projecting, because he doesn't look any different than normal. He always looks like this. But not like… this. He's wearing the same loose white shirt that almost drowns his slender frame and reveals a delicious amount of collarbone as it almost slips off one shoulder. His hair is fluffy and messy from sleep, making him look like an actual fucking angel, and the warm morning light spilling in through the windows illuminates his skin. The whole scene is like a freaking renaissance painting.
“Morning!” he says cheerfully, turning back to the stove. Completely normal. Maybe it really was all a fever dream.
It takes a second before you realize you're just standing there, gawking in his direction like an idiot. “Morning,” you echo. Smooth. You take a step forward, still hovering. It's silent for an excruciatingly long moment.
Felix clears his throat. “Did you— Did you sleep well?”
You blink. “Um…”
“I mean— ‘Cause the… the storm… was pretty loud…” he says slowly. “Uh… But, you didn't, like, wake up at all last night?”
You pause, heart dropping as you realize what he's asking. Did you wake up?
You have to give him credit; it's only because you know better that you notice the uncertainty in his voice, the way his shoulders are set a little higher than usual. You can't see his face but the way he's tensed up tells you he's more than a little anxious.
Well. You're going to die on this hill. “No.”
He sighs. Out of relief? Disappointment? You don’t know. “Okay. Good. I mean, I'm glad. That you slept alright.”
You nod. Cool. This isn't awkward at all. You don't know what else to say so you return the question to him. “Did you...?”
“Me? Yeah. Yeah, uh, I was fine. Loads better than the floor so, yeah, thanks for not letting me be an idiot about that.”
You hum noncommittally. Should you leave? (Yes.) There's no real reason for you to stay longer since the weather cleared up. Would it be too weird to leave so suddenly? (Yes.) But you really can't stand this tension much longer. Fuck pretending. You're awful at this.
“Uh, so…” Felix turns his head to you, interrupting your thoughts. “You hungry? Want breakfast?”
You’re about to say no but… you are hungry. And whatever he's making — pancakes? — smells good. Well, breakfast sounds normal enough.
“Sure,” you say instead. That's a normal thing to say.
Felix smiles at your response, seeming to relax a little as he turns back to the stove, spatula in hand. You stare at his back for a moment before deciding standing around is making you antsy. You move to lean against the counter across from the stove, watching him pour the pancake batter a little clumsily.
“So…” you start and his arm suddenly twitches, spilling batter on his hand. He swears and reaches to the sink to quickly wash it off before running the wet hand through his unruly hair. You watch as a few drops of water drip down his neck and you kind of want to touch them, trace their path with your fingers. Or your mouth. Maybe…
Wow. Wowww. You're actually unwell. What the hell? You need to sit the fuck down.
As you do that, pulling out a chair only slightly dizzily, he speaks. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Were you saying something? You're so lost. “Um…” you swallow. “H-How long have you been up…?”
Felix hums and flips the pancakes carefully. “Not too long… A couple hours, maybe?”
A couple hours? He’s been up for hours, plural? Doing what? Waiting for you to wake up?
“Oh.” You swallow again. “How come?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” is his casual reply, followed by a shrug. “Figured I should do something so…” he gestures to the stove.
“Oh,” you repeat, still struggling to get your head straight. The kitchen is also spotless, you notice, any leftover mess from the cookies yesterday miraculously gone. He probably stress-cleaned or something. Your heart hurts for him and how he must be feeling but what can you do? It's your own fault you can't even talk to him about it and clear the air. You dug this grave.
“You didn't have to. Make breakfast, I mean.”
He looks over his shoulder for a second, his smile strained when he says, “No, I know. I just… wanted to do something nice.”
You look down at your hands, guilt twisting your stomach. This… This is your fault. He wouldn't be suffering quietly like this if it weren't for you.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
Felix lets out a little laugh. “Don't sound so enthusiastic.”
“That's the most enthusiastic I can sound this early in the morning,” you say, earning a huff of amusement from him in response.
“Well, they're not worth much enthusiasm anyway. I kinda— I dunno. They're uh…” he turns off the stove, presumably finished, but he hesitates before turning around. “Well…” he places the plate of pancakes down in front of you and laughs sheepishly.
Ah. They are quite… dark. Well done, if you will. You fight the urge to laugh as you stare down at the plate of pancakes that look vaguely like hockey pucks.
“Is there something funny?”
You look up to see him watching you with a small pout, his eyebrows drawn in. You can’t hide your smile this time, especially when his lips slowly quirk up in response.
“No, no, um…” You glance back down at the plate of black holes. “They look great.”
“Don't lie.” He sits down across from you, elbows propped, a pout on his face. His face is flushed. Up close, you can see the darkness under his eyes. You wonder if he slept at all.
“I don't know what's wrong with me…” he sighs, covering his face a little, and you get the sense he's talking about more than just burnt pancakes.
“I…” Your heart squeezes at his dejected voice. “It's okay, really, Felix,” you say, but if you're implicating something more than just burnt pancakes too, he'll never know. “It happens.”
He chuckles softly and peeks at you through his fingers. “Yeah. I’m just… a bit out of it, I guess.”
You nod. You’re a little out of it, too. You can't stop staring at his face, the pink flush to his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up a little haphazardly, the way his lashes flutter as he blinks tiredly. He looks so… pretty. He always looks pretty.
He peeks at you again, and you catch yourself and look away. You should say something. You should say you were awake last night. You should tell him you're not upset. You should just be honest.
You don't do any of that. Felix sits up with a huff and starts combing through the pancake stack, picking out a few less egregious ones and putting them on a plate for you.
“There.” He slides the plate over to you. “Try a couple of these.”
He's a good friend, is your first thought, watching him try to salvage the pancakes with a fond smile. At least he has the wherewithal to look sheepish for making such a thing. You don't mind, though. You'd eat them anyway, burnt or not. You’ve never been able to deny him anything, even before all this, so you’ve certainly got no chance now.
He glances at you, noticing your smile, and laughs. You can see a bit of the tension from earlier leaving his body, his shoulders less tense as he watches you cut into the pancakes with your fork. He reaches over and pours some syrup over the cooled pancakes before settling back in his chair, resting his head against his hand.
“Sorry they're not the best. Didn't realize I'm shit at cooking until just now.”
Despite his claims, and the lackluster presentation, the pancakes aren’t bad at all. The edges are crispy (if a bit crunchy) and the inside is surprisingly fluffy. You tell him as much and he crosses his arms over his chest unbelievably, but you see him fighting the smile on his face, tongue in cheek. It’s so, so cute. Truly, you are a goner.
“I'm serious!” you say. “I think they're great!”
He rolls his eyes at you, still smiling. “I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m telling the truth.” You take another bite for emphasis. “Mmm,” you hum, only exaggerating a little. So what? You see the way he lights up at your praise, and you're grateful for his efforts — even if they look burnt to hell.
You guess you mumbled that last part out loud because Felix snorts, looking up and resting his chin on his arms. “To hell? You can say that again.”
You purse your lips to hide the smile that slips on your face and he glares at you, probably thinking that you’re making fun of him.
“‘S not funny,” he huffs before reaching for a plate for himself.
“It's a little funny.”
“Shut up.”
—
You probably should have made your exit after breakfast, but in the moment of normalcy you forgot that you're kind of supposed to be freaking out about him; you don't think twice about staying. Now, you're sitting with him on his bed, helping him study.
“I don't get it,” Felix whines, tilting his head back and exposing the long line of his neck. You try not to gape like an idiot, resisting the urge to reach up and run your fingers over his jaw and the phantom marks there. “Why are there so many different integrals?”
“Uh…” You pull your attention back to the textbook in front of you, trying to read through everything. It's probably important that you actually pay attention to this. And not the way he's chewing on his lip in concentration. Or the little freckle on the corner of his nose. That's not part of the exam material.
“And these equations,” Felix continues, pointing to the page. “They're the fucking same thing! What the fuck?”
Focus. “So,” you shake your head to clear it and laugh a little. “They're just different methods of approximation. These ones are rectangular, and this one's trapezoidal so…” you squint at the page. “They're similar but here you divide this part. See? And you multiply each inner term. So that depends on how many intervals you're using,” you explain. “Rectangles are simpler but trapezoids are more accurate? I think you need to know both though.”
He looks up at you with a grimace. “Yeah, okay. Thanks. I'm sure I'll remember all that perfectly during the exam.” He glances down at the notes with a sigh. He looks stressed. It doesn't help that he's probably also tired. That he's been up for hours.
Because of you.
You're suddenly hyper-aware that you're sitting on his bed, close enough to touch. You noticed he's been keeping a little more distance than usual, but you can still feel the warmth of his body next to you and it makes you antsy and distracted, trying to keep your focus on the notes spread out in front of you. At least it's something to look at other than him.
You clear your throat. “You'll have to memorize it, I guess.”
“So what you're saying is I should give up on calculus,” he says dryly. “I should give up on life.”
“That is literally not at all what I said.”
He groans and flops forward onto the bed, his head landing by your thigh and leaning against it. You freeze. He doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and sighs.
You swallow down the rush of heat that runs through your body, unsure of what to do when he’s basically using your leg as a pillow. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that you're pretty sure this is the first time you've touched for more than a split second since… last night.
You can feel his breath against your leg, his eyelashes fluttering faintly. He looks like he could fall asleep like this, head nuzzled into your leg. Like a cat, you think briefly, and you can’t help yourself when your fingers reach out, itching to push his hair out of his face — just testing if that's okay.
You do it anyway, against your better judgment, slowly combing through the soft locks. He doesn’t really react, but his breath hitches ever so slightly. Your mind drifts off to the soft sound of his moan against your neck last night and you nearly choke on your own spit.
Oh my god. No, no, no, not real. It was absolutely a fever dream and there is no room for doubt, no matter how vividly the memory is playing in your mind right now. You were doing so well repressing it.
Felix's eyes suddenly fly open and he sits up abruptly. “Uh…” he starts, staring at you with wide eyes before his gaze drops to your hand still floating mid-air, hovering over where his head was.
“Sorry—” He scrambles back, clearing his throat, looking a little flushed in the face. He glances at you for a second before turning away, busying himself with tidying the notes spread across the bed.
“Oh.” You try to keep your voice steady and let your hand fall. “For what?”
“For, um…” He shrugs, still not looking at you. “I dunno. I wasn't trying to, like, fall asleep on you or anything,” he mumbles.
He's nervous, you realize. The fact that he's so nervous makes you even more nervous and guilty. Are you making him uncomfortable? Is sitting this close to you hard for him now?
He looks back at you for a moment, and then his face scrunches up a bit. “I really— I can’t do this,” he mutters, voice wavering a little, looking at you with an almost pleading expression, and your heart sinks. You can’t tell if he means the studying or… something else.
Before you can fully panic at what the fuck he means — he probably knows, is he upset with you, does he maybe not want to be friends anymore—? He takes a deep breath and says your name quietly.
“Is everything… alright?”
What? What kind of question is that? You might have just stopped breathing. What does it mean to be alright anyway? That's pretty subjective, isn't it? This past week you've lost track of any sense of what normal feels like, and really, honestly, you never knew. You don't know anything. You’re trying to act like nothing happened, but it’s so hard. And clearly, you've been failing.
But that's all you want. For everything to be alright. “...What do you mean?”
“With you.” He finally drags his eyes up to look at you again. “With us. Everything… alright?”
Well, no. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Of course.”
The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy him. If anything, it makes him look more upset, his shoulders slouching forward and brows knitting together as he looks down at the space between you. “Are you sure?” he asks, in that same quiet tone, staring at you like he wants to say something else. You want him to say it, to keep asking, press you until you crack. You want him to force the truth out of you so badly it makes you feel sick.
But he doesn't. He doesn't push, not that you expected him to. Felix is never one to push you for anything you're not ready to give. It's something you love about him and you hate yourself for wanting him to now. It's not fair of you to expect so much of him, to want him to keep poking, try to pry you open, or read your mind.
He's still waiting for an answer. “Why do you ask…?” you whisper.
“Um,” he starts, touching his ear. “I guess… I mean— Recently, I feel like things have been a little… different? Uhh, weird? Maybe? I don't know. But—” he sighs. “I— You tell me. Am I making it up? I swear if you tell me I'm wrong, or an idiot, I'll shut up,” he laughs nervously.
“That's not it,” you say quickly, and swallow against the lump in your throat, guilt rising up like bile. Obviously, he’s right. Things are different. Things are weird. He knows it, you know it, and apparently both of you have been content to dance around the subject for days.
He stares at you like he’s waiting for more. You chew on your lip, struggling to find the right words to say. He’s being careful, tiptoeing around you like you’re going to run away at any moment. (You are.)
“I just… have a lot on my mind is all,” you murmur.
A beat. “Yeah,” he says, voice low. He’s watching your face closely. “What kind of things? Can you tell me?”
You can't even look at him for too long, terrified the floodgates might burst open if you do. You focus on the sheets bunched up in your fingers. “You know. Just…” Just that this is all my fault. Just that I stupidly caught feelings and caused this tension between us. I’m sorry. I really wish I didn't like you.
You're seconds away from sprinting.
He nods slowly when you don't elaborate. “Yeah… okay.” His voice is soft. He’s giving up. You don’t know if you like that or not. “Yeah. I get it.” He purses his lips. “Sorry, I just— I… Can I ask one more thing? I just— It’s not about the, uh…” he points to his neck. “...practicing..? Or.. something… is it?”
You freeze, mouth hanging open. Oh, god. He’s seriously bringing that up? So directly? Now? “I—”
He’s looking at you, waiting for your response with an almost desperate look in his eyes. You can't believe he's actually talking about this now when you both had a mutual agreement to pretend that never happened. For days he acted like it never happened. It was his idea.
A few seconds of silence pass before he lets out a sigh and looks down, shoulders slumping heavily. “Bingo, huh? Yeah, that’s… that’s what I figured.”
“You… figured..?”
Felix sighs again and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah.” He still can’t seem to look at you. “That I screwed everything up.”
You feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. “What?”
He turns back to look at you, rubbing his eyes, and lets out an unsteady breath. “I didn't mean to—” he says quickly. He looks frustrated with himself, face pinched in a frown as he runs a hand through his hair.
“Just,” he says quietly. “You can like... talk to me if you're upset about it.”
You stop breathing.
“I, like... I don't want you being uncomfortable around me just because… Can we just…” he sighs. “I know we said to forget about it but… not if you're upset. Please tell me if you're upset.”
Your head is swimming, heart racing at a pace that makes you lightheaded, his words spinning in your mind. He thinks you're upset. “I'm not…” you take a deep breath. “I’m not… upset.”
His eyes soften, but he still seems hesitant. “No? Really?” He exhales. “It was… a really dumb idea. I should've never suggested it. I'm sorry.” He chews on his lip. “And you've been so… like, I feel like you've been a little uncomfortable around me since. I-It's been eating me up a little, you know? I should've known better. I'm… really sorry.”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times in stunned silence. You're such an idiot. Of course he’s been worried about you. Of course he’s been blaming himself. Felix is genuinely distraught because he thinks you hate him or something, and you really don't know how to process that when it's the furthest thing from the truth.
Felix looks pained as he sits next to you, waiting for you to say something. The anxiety is visible, written on every inch of him in the way he can’t look at you, in the way his hands are shaking. You just want it to stop.
He's blaming himself for this. Thinking that you're upset over—
“I-I’m not upset,” you finally manage to say. Your voice sounds weak, even to your own ears.
He gives you a dubious look, and you straighten up.
“I'm not upset,” you repeat more firmly. “In fact, I'd do it again,” you blurt out.
If you weren’t so frustrated—with him, with yourself, with everything—you might’ve been amused at the way his expression changes. If anything, he looks more confused, furrowing his brow and blinking at you wide-eyed like you just told him you're secretly a lizard.
“You— What?”
He’s looking at you like you've lost your mind. Maybe you have. You’re probably crazy for even entertaining the thought, but your mouth is still moving before you can even think to bite your tongue, the words tumbling out before your brain can catch up and ask you what the hell you think you're doing.
“I— I didn’t mind, um,” you stutter out, suddenly feeling flushed under his blank stare. You swallow, trying to keep your voice even while your heart is pounding so hard against your chest you’re sure it’s about to burst through. “I mean— I don’t— It wasn’t like, bad or anything…”
His eyes go wider at your words and you can see the gears spinning in his head as he tries to figure out if you’re joking or not. You’re not. You’ve thought about it a lot, actually. A stupid amount.
He just keeps looking at you like he can't believe what he’s hearing. “What, are you—” he manages to croak out. “Are you serious? Um— You’re really—” He swallows thickly.
“I mean…" you stutter, face growing warmer with each passing second. “Yeah,” you try to act nonchalant. “I-I just mean… that I don’t mind.” You shrug. “I actually… kind of thought it was… nice?”
There. The words are out. Too late. Too honest. You almost immediately want to take them back— but you can’t. Surely that's a normal enough thing to say?
Apparently not. Felix’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips as he looks at you, a flicker of… something in his eyes that you can’t quite read. “That's—” he blinks. “You can’t just... say that.”
“Why not?” you shoot back. “It was… useful.” Wasn't that the whole point?
After several beats of torturous silence he finally lets out a loud exhale. “Are you messing with me.”
You roll your eyes, fighting the heat in your cheeks. “Why would I be messing with you?”
“What? Because—” He furrows his brow, struggling to get the words out. “You… you haven’t been acting… Uh— You’ve been, like, kinda weird. All week. You're really not upset?”
You look away. Of course you've been more distant, acting like a complete idiot because you caught feelings, so of course you inadvertently pushed him away. Well, he's been a bit weird too. But that's because he thought you were uncomfortable with him, you realize.
You're such a fool.
“No. I'd do it again,” you say again, hoping it comes across blasé and not desperate.
Felix coughs. “Right. Okay, well— I don't… know if that's… a good idea.”
Obviously. But wait, is he actually… Considering it? Thinking about it? Oh god. You didn't realize how that sounded. You had meant it hypothetically, not as an offer but…
He's right. It can only end in disaster. But maybe… What better way is there to prove that you're not uncomfortable with him?
...There's definitely no other reason than that that leads you to look back at him and say something so deranged.
“...Please?”
Felix’s eyes widen comically and he’s clearly trying to form words, mouth opening and closing as he stares at you like you’ve grown a third head. “What— I—” His mouth clamps shut instantly, cheeks blooming a bright shade of pink and you have to fight down an onslaught of butterflies at the sight.
He clears his throat. “Uh— uh, you want to?” he asks slowly, blinking at you like he’s not sure if you're real or a figment of his imagination.
“Um,” you clear your throat, trying to steady your voice. This is so fucked. What are you doing? “Yeah, I mean, I still think I'm… I need to practice more…?”
“I-I don’t—” A startled laugh escapes him. “I don't think that you… do… Uh, you— you really want to, like— right now?”
Jesus, he’s actually serious. You feel lightheaded, pulse pounding in your ears. You have a vague notion that you should probably backtrack, pull away, maybe laugh and tell him that you’re kidding. Just the thought of it makes you shiver—
“Um. Sure..?” you say instead, and mentally facepalm.
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You follow it for a split second before darting your eyes up to look at his face. He looks flustered, his cheeks a deep shade of pink. It makes your stomach flip.
“I… this… seems like… maybe not a good idea,” he says, twisting the rings on his fingers. “But, I— Uhh, if you want…?”
This is insane. There's still time, you think, to make a break for it, but you can't manage to speak. You know it's a bad idea. You can't bring yourself to care. Not when he's been beating himself up over this and is clearly still not convinced you don't hate him.
Felix slowly starts to move, shifting his weight until he's leaning against the headboard in front of you, the space between your knees only inches apart. He watches you closely, as if waiting for you to change your mind, and— Right. You kind of have to take the lead in this. A part of you desperately wishes the roles were reversed but you really can't think about that if you want to have any hope of making it out of this alive. You’re already on the verge of passing out as it is.
As you start to move closer to him a giggle slips from his lips and he clamps them shut instantly, cheeks flushed as you slowly scoot across the bed towards him. You pause, wondering if he’s maybe come to his senses, but then he bites his lip and shakes his head.
“Sorry, I-I’m— Uh, just—” he laughs again, high in his throat, looking a mix of nervous and incredulous.
You giggle a little hesitantly. “..What?”
“Oh my god. Sorry. It’s just—” he says, trying to hide his face. He peeks from behind his hands, grinning sheepishly. “You’re— This is so— I can’t believe you think you need more practice.”
“...Shut up.”
His soft laughter is cut short when you get even closer, your knees brushing his. For some reason, seeing him like this… flustered, nervous, almost shy… is suddenly making your head spin. You want him to feel at least a tiny fraction of the way you’ve been feeling these past few days.
When you’re finally settled in front of him, you take a moment to look at his face, watching as he wets his lips, tongue peeking out just enough to leave them shining. He clears his throat, the sound making you jolt out of your daze.
“Okay,” he starts, eyes darting around the room. “What— What did you… want to… practice?”
He sounds breathless, his face a pretty shade of pink. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. He looks so, so beautiful like this; flushed, hair messy, mouth parted, and you really just want to kiss him.
You blink hard, trying to tamp down that thought. “Um…”
His eyes flit back to you, and he swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob in his throat and… Oh. Small, almost imperceptible patches of pink are scattered across his skin, blending with the blush creeping up his shirt collar. Hardly noticeable, but there nonetheless, especially to the one who inflicted them.
You don't realize your fingers had begun tracing the skin until he lets out a shaky exhale, tilting his chin, baring his neck for you.
You pause, eyes jumping up to his face. He's watching you under half-lidded eyes, lips parted as your fingertips brush his skin.
“I—” he stutters, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “You… really did a number on me, you know?”
You have half a mind to apologize but it's drowned under the rush of make them darker, make them last longer clouding your thoughts. You kind of want to mark him up forever. You're leaning in, you realize, breath ghosting his skin. “Can I…?”
He nods, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, please,” he breathes. “You don’t… you don’t have to ask. Do whatever you want to me.”
Whatever you want. That's… Hm. Wow. You can't even spare a thought on how crazy an offer that is before you're bringing your legs up to sit in his lap, any sense of decorum lost to you. You lean down, bracing yourself on his shoulders.
His hands hover momentarily by your waist before settling there, holding you in place as you make yourself comfortable in his lap. His breath stutters when your lips brush against his neck ever so slightly and his head falls back against the headboard with a soft thump. You hum, a thrill running through you at how sensitive he is as you repeat the action.
You press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck, pausing to gently suck and pull, and he makes a noise, a low whine that makes your stomach do backflips. You pause, lips hovering above his skin.
He's squirming a little underneath you, trying to get closer, to get you to press harder, but he keeps his place against the headboard, body taut with what you can tell is the effort to stay still. He swallows, eyes squeezing shut as he tilts his chin up even more, baring his neck again. “Please,” he whispers.
You're gonna die here, you think faintly. But for this it'll be worth it; you press a kiss beneath his jaw and he audibly sighs, head tilting back further as he grips your waist tighter.
You slowly make your way to the other side of his neck, lips leaving a trail of kisses in your path, and his breathing starts to get faster and more erratic. He gasps when you bite the sensitive skin, feeling him arch up against you a little, and you gently kiss the red mark you’ve left behind. “Mmhh,” he says, eyes slipping shut, “God, you’re seriously already good at this…”
“Really...?” you ask, satisfaction and pride bubbling in your chest. You never could’ve imagined that having him practically under your control like this would feel so good, but the effect your actions have on him is literally dizzying. “I guess… I had a good teacher?”
He huffs out a laugh, rolling his head to the side as you start to work on a new spot. “You—” he lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a moan as you suck another mark just below his Adam’s apple. He’s gripping your waist firmly, fingers digging in hard enough that you wonder if you’ll have bruises in the shape of them later. “Mm— God, don’t— I’m— I’m sensitive there…”
You know. Still, you pull back, admiring the red mark left in your wake. Felix is a mess, breathless and flushed and staring up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes.
“Shit,” he says, voice uneven, “You’re so— so…” He trails off and the sight of him plus his voice… it's such an onslaught to your senses. You lean back into his neck if only to hide from his gaze and start pressing soft kisses to the skin again.
“Please,” he begs, voice quiet and rough, “God, please, please—”
You hum, the words going straight to your head— and other places which you’re trying not to think about. You have absolutely no idea what you're doing anymore but it just feels so good to hear how he reacts to every small touch, his soft whining, the way he keeps shifting as he tries to stay still, everything—
As you gently suck another mark into his neck, this time on the sweet spot just by his ear, he gasps and his legs twitch underneath you, a whine slipping from his throat. “Ah, ahhh, wait—”
There's no time to process anything before he lets out a small, frustrated sound, one hand going to your chin to gently guide you away from his neck. He's breathing heavily, a little dazed, with a pretty pink flush coating his cheeks and high on his ears. He's so stunning you completely forget you can't just stop and stare like this.
He whispers your name. “We, uh…” he breathes out, and just having him say your name in such a wrecked voice is enough to make you feel even more insane. “We should s-stop…”
You don't know what's gotten into you. You want to keep going.
His hand drops away from your chin, gripping your hip again instead. He tilts his head back further into the headboard, eyes shutting for a moment as he tries to steady his breathing.
“I—” he begins through a sharp inhale, only to pause, swallowing visibly before he repeats himself. “W-We should really… stop.”
You nod mutely, trying to reign in your wild heartbeat as you reluctantly lean back a little.
He slowly releases the tight grip on your waist, looking at you, mouth still slightly parted as his breaths start to even out. Neither of you say anything for a moment, but you can’t look away from each other. The air is so thick.
As you shift your weight in his lap, you become painfully aware of the fact that your body is pressed right up against his, your legs straddling his hips, your faces so close you can feel his ragged breaths against your lips. It’s impossible to think straight with him looking up at you like that, eyes blown wide and dark, face flushed, the prettiest pink staining across his cheeks and the tip of his ears, lips parted as he tries to regain his breath…
God, you really, really want to kiss him.
He swallows visibly as your faces are still mere inches apart and it takes a tremendous amount of self-restraint to not just lean in and press your lips onto his. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling right now, but the look he’s giving you and the way he’s still just—looking at you—makes your head spin.
He wets his lips and you might just drop dead. “This...” he starts, voice still a bit shaky, “Sorry. This was supposed to be you practicing… I… always get too…”
As he trails off, he lets out a small, unsteady laugh, looking up at you with a sort of sheepish smile—like he’s embarrassed. “…carried away. God, sorry. Um,” he swallows again, looking everywhere but you. “Are you alright—?”
His cheeks are still a pretty shade of pink, lips red and shiny from where he’s been biting them. The sight is not doing any favors for your sanity.
You feel so crazy. You can't take it anymore.
“I lied.”
Clearly, that wasn't what he was expecting. He blinks at you, eyebrows drawing together. “...What?”
“I—” Oh god. Are you really doing this? “I… lied. This morning. I-I was, um,” you take a deep breath, “...awake last night.”
“You… were awake… last night?” he repeats slowly.
You nod. You might be on the brink of death. “Um, t-that's why I was maybe acting… extra weird? …Sorry.”
He’s staring, expression blank, before it seems to click. “Oh, god,” he groans, bringing a hand up to hide his face. “Oh— oh my god. I'm so, so sorry. You— I—”
He puts his hands back on your waist and tries to push you off of him, but you place your hands over his to halt his movements.
He goes still, eyes flicking up to meet yours, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt more dizzy in your life. You’re sitting on top of him, his hands are on your waist, he’s flushed red, looking so pretty, and you’re so gone that you can hardly feel embarrassed.
“No, wait, it's okay,” you say. “I'm… not uncomfortable with you. Or… this. That's what I'm trying to say.”
He lets out a harsh breath before shaking his head. “No no no, no way,” He pulls his hands free from under yours, as if burned, and runs them through his hair. “I'm— I'm, like, a fucking creep, I—”
“Oh my god, Felix, no,” you say in a rush, feeling like he’s slipping away with each passing second. “You’re not— Listen. I just…”
How do you even say this? That it affected you more than it probably should have, that it’s been plaguing your mind all morning, that you’re more confused than ever.
“I’m not— uncomfortable,” you manage to get out, “I promise.”
He looks at you, guarded, searching your expression. “…You’re not,” he repeats, with a tinge of disbelief.
“No.” There’s an odd, strangled feeling in your chest as he studies your face, the air still so thick between the two of you. You’re suddenly very aware of the way you’re still sitting, straddling his hips and so close you can literally count the freckles around his eyes.
“...Promise?” He peeks up at you, hands slowly coming down from his hair.
You nod. “Promise. Really.”
He swallows thickly and moves his hands down to hold your hips again, almost like an unconscious action, like that's the most natural place for them to be.
“Then… then how are you feeling?” He studies your face carefully, eyes jumping from each of your eyes, down, and back up.
You can’t think coherently with his body pressed against yours, your mind is so muddled, and his voice—
“‘Cause, I— um, I feel…” A small, nervous, incredulous breath leaves his lips. “Are you… are you feeling…”
“I…” You're cool. You're vibing. Your brain is melting out of your ears. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I feel dizzy.”
“Dizzy,” he repeats, grip on your hips tightening a little. “Dizzy… good? Or… sick?”
He shifts, bringing you nearly flush against him, and your eyes flutter shut. That alone is enough to send you reeling into alternate dimensions.
“I… not sick,” you choke out.
“Yeah?” he says, low and quiet, eyes flicking all over your face. He blinks, swallowing. “That’s… that’s good.”
You look down at him, taking in his face and the state of his neck. You did that… you did that… Suddenly all you can think of is how it felt under your lips just moments ago, of how he had felt, writhing, whining, begging—
Before you realize it, you're leaning forward again, as if possessed. Felix swallows and his hands grip onto you tighter, holding you steady on top of him. He’s staring up at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips, and your head is filled with static.
With a shaky breath, you tilt your head and bring your lips down to his neck.
You can feel the way he shudders and his head falls back against the headboard again. “Are you sure…” he breathes, voice hitching as you leave another soft kiss by his collarbone. “Are you— ah—”
His hands slide up to your waist and back down to your hips, fingers digging in as you suck a bruising mark into his shoulder.
He groans, and your vision is literally swimming. You suck a little harder and his hands twitch where they’re holding you firmly, words coming out in a soft moan. “God, you’re— you’re really good a-at this, that's not fair—”
You hum against his skin and run your tongue over the reddening area. “You’re so sensitive,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, and he lets out an embarrassed noise.
“Shut up,” he whines between gasps, but the words are undermined by the way he’s arching against you, tilting his head to the side to give you better access. “I’ve never— I don’t—”
You shift the slightest bit in his lap and his words are cut off in a soft gasp, eyes shutting for a split second before he’s looking back up at you. The look on his face makes you feel like you’re floating. “Mmm, I'm not… like this… usually… I—”
You want to say something, but the strangled sound from his lips when you reposition yourself on him again takes all coherent thoughts straight out of your mind. Felix’s fingers dig into your waist and you wonder if he’s trying to keep you still or pull you closer.
You want him closer. You need him closer, and it’s that thought that prompts you to actually press your hips against his and he throws his head back against the headboard again, eyes shut and mouth dropped open as he lets out a low moan. He grabs onto you tighter, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed up against him from chest to hip to— oh.
His breath stutters as his eyes go wide. He swallows visibly before shifting under you again, and yeah, he’s definitely not unaffected.
“Oh,” he breathes quietly. He sounds so ruined and there’s no way you’d be able to stop now even if you wanted to. You press down against him again and he bucks up and lets out a long whine.
“Oh, god—” he gasps out, hands scrambling down to your hips. “W-Wait, I—”
It's a struggle to pull yourself back enough to focus properly. “S-Sorry.”
He looks at you, wild eyed, hair falling on his face, all flushed skin and parted lips, the marks you left on his neck and collarbone glaring at you.
“No,” he says, breathing hard, chest rising and falling against yours. “Don’t… don’t apologize, it's just… I…”
A small whine escapes you as you feel his grip on your hips tighten again, as if testing it. He exhales slowly, and the silence stretches so long you start to wonder if the moment’s over, if you should get off of him, when he speaks in a low, quiet voice.
“Are you… are you really okay with this?” he asks, his eyes meeting yours. His voice is unsteady, but his hands still have a firm grip on you. “I don't want to… ruin anything…”
“Ruin anything...?” What— your friendship? You can’t quite focus when he’s literally holding you on top of him, body hot to the touch, skin soft and so, so tempting. He's an idiot. You like him. You want him.
Felix makes a strangled sound as he pushes and pulls on your hips again, moving your weight over him, his head falling back against the headboard again. You feel light-headed.
“Sorry,” he gasps. “We can stop if… if you…”
You're an idiot. “N-No,” you breathe out quickly, absolutely reeling from having him move your body like that. “No, don't, I…” You’re not even sure you could stop.
Felix lets out a small whine, hands digging further into your hips, his eyes dark and hazy as he looks up at you through his eyelashes.
“Okay,” he breathes, the word sounding like it's been punched out of him. “Okay.”
He leans back and tugs on your hips, rolling his own up as he pulls you down against him. You gasp at the contact, the sudden spark of pleasure coursing through you, but you’re barely given a moment to even think before he’s doing it again, pulling you back down, and fuck.
“Felix,” you choke, and the only answer you get is a whine from him as he moves your body against his again. You’re so caught up that you don’t even realize you’re starting to move to meet him, and he lets out a strangled sound at the action.
“Is this… I-Is this good?” he manages to get out, face screwing up slightly as you press down against him again.
You hum, leaning further into him to hide your burning face and you start to mouth at his neck again because… well, why not? It's familiar at this point and you're well past the point of trying to rationalize your actions. If you don't get your mouth on his skin you may just pass away.
You bite down and he lets out a long, low moan, his head drops back against the headboard again, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh,” he gasps, “Yeah, that— god, shit—”
When your body presses down a little against him again, he nearly chokes. You pull back, eyes instantly tracking the movement of his tongue wetting his lips and you go a little cross-eyed.
“F-Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, “I don’t think… uhh..” his hands on your waist slide down to your hips, holding them tightly as he gently rocks against you. “I don’t—” he whimpers again, fingers digging into your hips, “I don’t think I can… take much more…”
There are words lodged somewhere in your throat, and you don’t know how to express how bad you want him even if you could.
He looks up at you, eyes dark and heavy, and you think maybe he gets the message anyway.
Before you can say a word, he's pushing you backwards onto the bed. You gasp as you land on your back and he crawls on top of you, leaning down and trapping you with his arms on either side of your head. Looming over you with dilated eyes.
For a second he just stares, not touching you anywhere but still caging you in with his body, and then your brain finally catches up to the position you’re in and—
“Oh my god,” you squeak. “Felix—”
He blinks at you, flushed and panting, his breath brushing against your face. In the sudden change of position, he accidentally presses his knee in between your legs and you let out a gasp and squeeze your thighs together instinctively.
“Oh,” he breathes, looking at you with wide eyes, and you don't know if it's your imagination or if his eyes really do dart down for the briefest second. “Sorry. Was that… bad? Are you uncomfortable?” His blush is dark, spread down his neck.
You swallow, mind blanking on anything to say. He moves his thigh further between your legs, just a bit, and that’s definitely not helping.
His gaze drifts down, down again, and he blinks slowly, like he’s not sure he’s seeing things correctly.
“Um… you’re shaking,” he whispers, eyes flickering back up to your face. “Are you… Are you okay?”
“I—” you choke out. “Yeah. I’m fine. I swear, I’m just—”
He shifts over you again, and you feel his leg press in ever so slightly between yours, and this time you let out probably the most embarrassing sound possible.
If he’s trying to kill you, it’s working.
Felix’s eyes go wide. Slowly, in an almost tortuous way, he pushes down against you again.
“Ah—” you gasp again, before pressing your lips tightly together to prevent yourself from humiliating yourself any further. His eyes are dark, watching your expression closely, and you bring your hands up to cover your face for good measure.
He smiles a little. He looks absolutely delighted.
You have the faint urge to hit him but then he's grabbing your wrists and gently moving them off of your face before his head dips down to your neck, breathing hot against your skin, lips hovering just above your jawline before he starts leaving small kisses all over your skin, slowly moving to your pulse point and sucking a light bruise below it.
What the fuck. What the fuckk. You're suddenly apologetic of how you teased Felix because you're pretty sure you're just as sensitive as he is. It's nothing like your arm.
Your gasp turns into a choked whine as he grinds down on you, his lips trailing up until he’s nuzzling your earlobe and he lets out a moan near your ear, the sound going straight to your gut. He drags his mouth back down, teeth scraping your sensitive skin on their way down your neck.
“Why am I the only one getting marked up, hm?” he asks, mouth trailing your collarbone before sucking again. It makes you whine, your wrists straining against his grip on you as his body keeps you locked in place. You try to raise your hips up instinctively (which is really embarrassing), but his weight on you makes it impossible to move.
He groans at your squirming and pulls away, mouth hovering over your skin. “T-Too much?”
You shake your head, holy shit you're actually going to die if he stops now.
He lets out a breath and moves down again, leaving a trail of kisses as he reaches the space between your neck and shoulder. “You have no idea,” he says, voice low and strained. “How much I’ve… I’ve wanted…”
“What? Wanted what?” you ask, breath hitching as he sucks another mark near your collarbone, just above the neckline of your shirt.
He stays there for a moment longer before pulling back and blowing on the spot, making a chill run down your spine. “Wanted— Mmm, do you even know— how good you look… wearing my…” His eyes go a little hazy as he wets his lips with his tongue.
Your eyes widen as you realize that, yeah, you're still dressed in his sleep clothes. “Oh.”
He pulls back for a second, eyes roaming over you. “It's… not fair.”
Your breath stutters as he reaches out and hooks a thumb under the collar of your — his — shirt, pulling it down and exposing more of your shoulder. His eyes roam over the bared skin before he's leaning back down, mouthing at the space under your collarbone and sucking an angry red mark onto the skin.
You whine, arching up against him, and the movement grinds your hips up against him. The sensation makes you both gasp, and he drops his head down, his forehead resting on your shoulder.
“F-Fuck,” he whines. You feel him move up to your face, his nose bumping against yours. He’s searching for something in your expression as he slowly lets go of your wrists, his fingers lightly running up your arms, mapping the contours of your face. His breath fans lightly over your lips, the air between your faces getting shorter as he leans closer and oh god, this is it, this is it, this is it—
"Do you, uh…” he starts, “Maybe… need practice kissing too..?"
“What?” You blink, mind slow to comprehend what he’s asking when his lips are so close to yours and he shouldn't be talking right now, what the fuck? And then it registers. "I-I've kissed people before, Felix," you sputter in a burst of concern for your dignity.
“Yeah, but…” he whimpers. “I… Can I…?”
You kind of want to laugh. “...For science?”
“Yeah. Yeah, for science, please can I—”
You’re not waiting for him to finish his sentence before you're grabbing his shoulders and pulling his head down to yours.
He lets out a shuddery sigh and then he’s finally, finally kissing you. It’s soft and almost chaste, completely different from the way he was biting and kissing your neck just seconds ago, but fireworks explode behind your eyes all the same.
His lips are soft, and he tastes so sweet, like maple syrup. His tongue licks your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, a small gasp slipping from you. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth, and then he’s really kissing you, tongue curling around yours. You moan, eyes fluttering closed, body lighting up, your entire world reduced to the points where your bodies touch.
This can't be real. Because if it feels like this when it's just practice you can't imagine how it must feel when it's real. Even if you've kissed people before, it was hardly like this. If Felix notices your fumbling, he doesn't say anything, just sighs against your mouth, tilting your head up and kissing you deeper than you thought was possible.
Your hands slide up from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, and he responds by kissing you harder, deeper. You’re so busy focusing on the way he’s trying to deepen the kiss that you barely register his thigh slipping higher between yours, starting to move again.
“O-Oh—” you let out against his mouth, hips lifting up against him instinctively and he whines — a high-pitched, needy sound against your lips.
He pulls away, breath coming in short gasps and his head drops down on your shoulder. For a moment you can only hear the sound of ragged breathing as his heart beats against you, his hands still roaming your sides, tracing every contour of your body.
“Shit,” he breathes into your shoulder. “You’re so… how…” and whatever thought he was having is cut off by the sound he lets out when you squirm a little and his body presses further against you.
“Careful,” he chokes out, “Careful, careful, please, oh my god—”
Despite his words, he keeps moving against you, the friction both too good and not enough. You're dizzy with how good it feels and you gasp when his mouth finds your neck again.
Your hands are back in his hair, clinging to him, needing to grab onto something. “Felix,” you all but whine.
He groans against your neck, moving his head up to your cheek, before his lips find yours again. His grip tightens as he presses you further into the mattress, a whine escaping you as he nips at your bottom lip.
“Please,” he whispers against your mouth, a breath more than a word. “Please, I…” He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and groaning against your lips, “Please…”
You're not sure what he's asking for, but you'd give him everything if you could. You pull him closer with a tug on his hair, your bodies flush against each other, and even through the layers of clothes you can feel everything.
“Ah—” he whines, and his hips stutter against yours. “P-Please,” he repeats breathlessly as he presses his face back into your neck and his hands dig into your sides. “Please, you keep— making these sounds and looking like—” he gasps as his hips brush against you and he almost loses his train of thought. “And I don’t— I don’t think I can— last much longer…”
TV static. You're probably flatlining. “O-Oh my god,” you mumble, reeling at the thought of getting to see your best friend fall apart on top of you, that he’s actually on the verge of unraveling just from being with you like this; and then his mouth is back on yours, tongue sliding against yours.
“Felix,” you gasp against his mouth, “Felix—” your words break on a whine as his hips grind against you. He lets out a broken moan, like just the sound of his name on your lips is enough to do him in.
He’s shaking now, not so much kissing you as panting against your mouth. Not that you're faring any better. You feel so overwhelmed you think you’re going to cry, or break, or both; the feeling of his thigh against you and his chest pressed so closely to yours, it’s all too much. As he moans softly, the sound slowly rising in pitch, you feel something in your gut pull tighter and— Oh. Oh.
Everything goes white. For a moment, all you know is Felix: his body on yours, his skin under your hands, his scent, his sounds, his taste still on your tongue— all of him, and it’s all-encompassing. It's all so sudden and violent that all you can do is gasp and cling to him.
Once the feeling subsides you try to gather yourself, you open your eyes just enough to see Felix staring down at you, his pupils blown so wide they almost completely cover his irises.
“Fuck…” he breathes, sounding almost awed. “Did you— Did you just—”
You're too enervated as you try to look at him, you swear you’re seeing double. He’s still breathing hard, his hands gripping you tightly against him. His mouth opens to say something else, but it’s quickly interrupted by a groan as his hips roll against you, like he can't help it, and he buries his face into your neck instead.
“Oh my god—” he moans into your skin. Suddenly his breath hitches and his hips press into your thigh more insistently. He lets out a needy whine, his words barely distinguishable. “F-Fuuuck, oh fuck—”
You feel the way his body jerks and trembles against you, breath coming in short pants that turn into pretty, high-pitched sounds — probably the prettiest sounds you've ever heard in your whole damn life — his breath hot on your neck, clinging to you, and oh, he’s shaking.
The moment seems to stretch on forever. Time literally slows with him shuddering on top of you until he finally collapses, burying his face in your shoulder.
Slowly, reality starts to sink in, your body becoming more aware of his body almost crushing you and his hands tracing idle patterns on your skin. Your mind gradually clears enough that your brain catches up to the situation you're in, and suddenly the room is so hot, every point of contact with Felix absolutely blistering.
That was so intense. And he wasn't even actually touching you. Holy shit. Fuck.
For a moment you’re both just left trying to catch your breath, until he slowly lifts his head, gazing down at you. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky and it makes you feel so hot.
He blinks down at you for a second and seems to freeze. After a second he breathes, “Um… you look hot,” before his cheeks instantly turn an even deeper pink. “I mean, like.. uh… you look like you’re heated up or something... Like, your face is flushed. It’s— I mean—” he laughs awkwardly, stumbling over all his words.
Well. Sure. It's probably like two billion degrees in here, you think, and it’s really not helping that he’s still lying on top of you, his weight pinning you down.
“Um…” You're still so fuzzy and out of it. “You’re crushing me,” you state dumbly.
His reaction is immediate, moving to shift his weight off you. “Oh, s-sorry, I… sorry—”
No, wait, now you're cold. You reach out to stop him before he gets too far.
A tiny smile quirks on the corner of his lips as he notices you trying to hold onto him. With a breathless laugh he settles back over you, propping himself up on his forearms. “Better?”
How is he real. “Mhm.”
He’s so close, his face is so close to yours, and you realize you have made a grave error in keeping him on top of you. He’s always had an effect on you, but he’s never looked so mesmerizing as he does now with his messy hair and red cheeks, looking like he’s itching to reach out and touch you. It feels a bit like staring directly at the sun. Captivating, and dangerous.
“You, um…” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you okay..?”
You blink. Okay doesn't quite cover it. You might have literally just witnessed the fifth dimension. You settle on a nod.
Felix nods too, a quick jerky movement, still watching you closely, with something akin to awe. You’re not sure what to make of it, or what to say, you just try to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.
He swallows, his eyes searching your face. Then his gaze drops down, and you realize that for the first time he left marks on you. And if you look anything like he does right now — Oh no.
Your eyes widen, hand flying up on its own accord, touching your neck, the skin tender and tingly.
“O-Oh,” he says, sucking in a small breath through his teeth as your fingers trace your neck. “I… Sorry. I didn't— uh…” His eyes dart between your neck and your face. “Did— Does it hurt?”
“Umm…” You’re not sure how to explain that yeah, it kinda hurts, but you also think it's extremely hot and you kind of really want him to do it again.
A beat of silence stretches out while he waits for your answer, and you can see the anxiety building on his face. His eyes dart to your neck, to your face, and the longer you stay quiet the more worried he looks.
“I didn’t mean to,” he finally manages to say. “I’m sorry, I should’ve… asked, or…”
He looks so nervous, like he’s absolutely terrified that you’re going to be angry at him for leaving marks on you that you almost want to laugh. It’s endearing. He’s so cute and hot and perfect.
You do laugh, in spite of yourself, a small giggle bubbling from your throat. You immediately catch yourself and school your expression but it's too late. He looks at you a bit wildly.
“What—? What’s funny?” he pouts, his voice coming out even higher-pitched than usual.
You bite your lip. “Nothing.”
His face gets so pink it’s practically glowing. “What,” he whines, lower lip pushed out in a proper pout now.
Another laugh bubbles out of you — you can’t help it when he’s being so cute. “Sorry,” you purse your lips. “I'm fine. I don't mind.”
His eyes go wide as he realizes that you’re not mad at him, and he lets out a long, shaky breath, shoulders dropping.
“I swear to god,” he huffs, and he sounds so genuinely huffy and upset over the fact that you’re laughing at him that you can’t even stop yourself from giggling again.
“Do you think this is funny?” he grumbles, shifting his weight a bit over you. “You’re so rude. That was, like… payback, you know. Now we're even. Actually…”
He suddenly dips his head down, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. “Don’t,” you laugh, squirming under him. “It tickles!”
“Good,” he grins against your skin. “That's what you get for laughing at me.”
He moves down, licking a hot stripe across your collarbone. “Oh my god, stop—”
“No,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss right where your pulse is fluttering under your skin. “You’re rude and I’m not done yet, so stay still.”
“Felix—”
His mouth is warm and he’s pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on every part of your skin he can reach. He sucks and tugs, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin and you let out a gasp. You try to wriggle out from under him but he’s holding you down, his body flush against yours and his arms caging you in. “Fu-uck, Felix..!”
"Stay. Still,” he huffs, nipping gently at the skin. You shiver and he lets out a soft breath, a shudder of a laugh against your skin. He moves again, his lips working their way down your neck and you give in and close your eyes.
He’s being gentle now, you can barely feel his lips as they brush your skin. But then he suddenly sucks softly at the dip between your collarbone and you can’t help the little sound that escapes you.
You feel him grin against your skin. “There. Now we're even.” he says smugly, pulling away.
You blink your eyes open blearily. Payback, huh? Okay. You guess you probably deserved that.
Still. “You’re such a dick,” you mutter.
His eyes are wide and full of faux innocence as he looks down at you, looking awfully pleased with himself. He grins proudly, and you can see little marks on his neck, too, red and angry-looking and…
Felix's expression changes as he looks down at you, the smugness slowly fading to be replaced with something softer. He’s quiet as he gazes down at you, taking in every detail of your face, his eyes roaming every inch. It feels like he’s trying to sear the image into his memory.
His hand comes up to brush some of your hair out of your face, fingertips gently tracing your features. His gaze is intense, his fingers are gentle, and suddenly it’s hard to think straight.
He swallows and you can see him struggling with himself, like he’s struggling to say something.
“Um…”
He takes a careful breath as his eyes wander over your face, taking all of you in. His gaze lands on your mouth and stays there, watching intently, his tongue slowly swiping across his bottom lip.
“We… I mean— you didn't, like, really actually need practice kissing right, or was that like—? Like actually science..?”
“What?”
His gaze darts back up to your eyes, cheeks tinged with pink. “What?” he parrots, voice slightly higher pitched than usual.
What the hell is he asking? Of course you didn’t need practice. Right? You’re pretty sure you know how to kiss already. At least, you think so. God, what if you’re not even a decent kisser and he was too nice to tell you.
“Felix,” you say slowly, figuring it's best to be direct. “What the hell are you talking about?”
His cheeks are already burning, you can see the redness spreading from his face to his neck and down his chest. “I don’t know,” he stammers, looking away. “I was just… wondering. If it was just for fun or if it… like…”
He’s still not looking at you, and you’re so confused. “What…?” you repeat.
“Um, well,” he mumbles, somehow blushing even further. “I was… uh, wondering…” He finally glances at you. “Like… you know… if it meant something—” He freezes mid sentence and closes his eyes, like he’s bracing for impact.
…Of course it meant something. It was everything. But Felix— he’d never feel that way about you. He couldn’t. He already told you he doesn't.
Just for fun? You kind of want to laugh and cry and take his stupid face in your hands and shake some sense into him. What is he even trying to say?
You're too busy having a mental breakdown and Felix finally meets your gaze again, biting his lip. “Forget I said that,” he sighs. “I’m an idiot, just ignore me, please.”
After a silent moment of staring at each other, he awkwardly clears his throat, sitting up on his elbows and pulling back slightly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he blurts, his cheeks flushed and eyes avoiding yours. “Nevermind! We, uhhh, should I move? I should move.” You can feel the way he’s shivering slightly, his voice trembling from the exertion.
He pulls back, shifting to get up, but you grab his arm, holding him in place. “Felix,” you rasp out, not even sure what you want to say but knowing you have to say something.
He freezes, staring at the way you’re gripping his arm, eyes still refusing to meet yours. His shoulders are tensed, tight like a coiled spring.
For a minute the only sounds in the room are your uneven breaths, the words hanging in the air between you. Then his voice breaks the silence, barely a mumble. “Just forget I said anything,” and then he's pulling his arm out of your grasp and moving to get off the bed.
No, no, no no no. Without letting yourself think too much you grab his wrist, pulling him back down to you. He lands on top of you with a startled gasp. “What—”
“Felix—” You don’t know what else to say. Your head is still fuzzy and your body is still buzzing and the only thing you can think about is him but words are not forming.
He swallows. “Y-Yeah?” he says, breathless.
Your hands are shaking and you shove them into his hair, pulling his head down until your foreheads collide only a little painfully.
“Mmph— hey—” he starts, but the word is swallowed up by a groan when you tighten your fingers in his hair. Your head is still spinning but finally, finally, finally your mind comes up with words that aren't just his name.
“You're an idiot.” Good start. “It wasn't just for fun. Are you seriously— Science? I thought that was just— Like, what the hell does that even mean—” you sputter.
His eyes are so wide, the brown of them almost completely swallowed by his pupils. “It wasn't…?”
“You moron,” you groan. “I actually hate you so much.”
He laughs, breathless and shaky. “You hate me?” he asks, a slight whine to his voice.
“Yes,” you mutter. “Please tell me what the fuck kind of science you think I was trying to do.”
His chest is heaving, heart hammering against your own. “I-I don’t know,” he stutters, looking so adorably dazed you want to laugh. “Don’t— don’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he says, cheeks burning. “Your face is really close to mine right now, and— I’m trying—”
“Trying…?” you whisper, eyes flicking to his mouth. Why are his lips so pretty. You just want to pull him down and kiss him and kiss him and—
He licks his lips. “Trying…” Then he groans, “Ugh, shut up. I'm embarrassed.”
You breathe out a laugh and he pouts at you. “Stop,” he whines. “I'm, uh…” he says, blinking. “We… need to shower. Or something.”
Your face heats up. “What?”
“Shower,” he repeats in a strangled voice. “Like— oh, oh my god, like separately. Not— not together, obviously.” His cheeks are already turning a deeper shade of red, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing.
“I know that,” you whisper.
“Good. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Because it would be really weird if we—” He cuts himself off, biting his lip. “Anyway,” he says loudly. “I’m getting up now.”
He slowly pushes himself up into a seated position. He’s blushing so bad, his face so red you can practically feel the heat emanating from his skin, and still staring at you, blinking like he can’t quite believe what just happened. After a long moment he seems to shake himself out of the daze and blinks again. “So, um. I’m just— You can go first if you want.”
“Yeah.” You’re still a little dizzy but you manage to sit up. “Sure.”
“Cool,” he says eloquently before scrambling off the bed and turning to rummage through a few drawers.
After a moment he seems to find what he’s looking for and turns back, holding out a stack of clothes to you.
“Here. This will, um. Probably fit.”
You mutter a thanks, sliding off the bed and taking the clothes he’s holding out for you. “Um… I’ll be quick,” you say lamely, and he nods, almost a robotic jerk of his head.
You stumble to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and taking a moment to collect yourself.
It takes everything in you not to scream when you glance in the mirror — You look crazy. Even in the dim bathroom lighting it’s obvious. You let out a quiet exhale, pressing your fingers against the marks and wincing at the twinge of pain.
Well… you suppose that's fair payback. Still, you're not sure if that's really all it was. You kind of feel like an idiot because what if the moment has passed now and it's too late to bring it up and, like, actually talk about it and Felix tries going back to being normal friends again.
He wouldn't do that. Right?
You're not any more sure of what to do when you step out of the bathroom ten minutes later, but at least you feel refreshed.
Felix is sitting on the edge of the bed when you reenter his room, staring at his phone with a funny expression. His head jerks up at the sound of the door opening and he shoves his phone away, sitting up straight.
He all but bolts off the bed when you step into the room, standing up so fast you would've missed it in a blink. He’s blushing furiously, face so red it’s almost concerning.
“You’re… done,” he says after a moment. “Right.”
He’s fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, avoiding your gaze. You blink at him, but he’s pointedly not looking at you. “Uh, yeah.”
“Cool,” he responds, his voice high and stilted. You give him a skeptical look and he finally glances at your face, swallowing when he sees you looking at him.
His expression makes your heart sink slightly; a part of you has already begun to feel resigned, wondering if he’s going to tell you it was actually just a mistake and you should forget about it. The thought makes your insides twist uncomfortably.
“I, uh. I guess I’ll…” he starts, his eyes darting around the room. “Uhh, you should check your phone? Or don't. Actually, maybe don't.”
“...What?”
“Just… nothing,” he says unconvincingly. “Just check your phone. I mean— It’s not important, it’s fine.”
“Okay…?” you say, starting to reach for your phone.
Felix looks vaguely panicked. “Wait, not now, uhh—”
His strange behavior would be funny if you weren’t just so confused. “What are you being so weird for?”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “I’m not— I’m not being weird,” he protests, even as his ears keep turning redder. “I’m fine, just— check your phone when I'm not here!”
“Felix.” You give him a dubious look, even as he’s practically vibrating with how badly he's pretending to be casual. “What did you do.”
His eyes go wide. “What? Nothing! I didn’t do anything.” He stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, looking so flustered that you can’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of the situation. He catches your expression and splutters indignantly. “Don’t laugh!”
With a huff he turns on his heel and practically flees into the bathroom, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, completely dumbfounded. What the hell.
After a moment of just standing there and staring at the floor hopelessly, you finally give up and collapse into the bed.
He’s being so weird. You just don’t know what to make of all of this. Was it just a mistake or… Did he mean it? Do friends seriously… do that kind of stuff? And stay friends?
You’re tempted to not check your phone, just to spite him, but after a few minutes of stewing in your thoughts you can’t wait it out. You get up and grab your phone from the desk, your heart picking up when you see an alarming number of notifications.
Most of them are messages Felix must have sent after you left to shower. You click into the chat hesitantly.
You have to admit it’s a little cute.
It makes you want to walk over to the bathroom and let him know he’s being an idiot, but you manage to resist the urge and keep reading.
You’ve been biting down your lip to keep from laughing as you read through the messages, and you have to cover your mouth to muffle a laugh as you get to the end. He’s such an idiot. And he’s cute as hell.
Seriously, are you dreaming? Did he mean it? It kind of sounds like he means it. He likes you? He’s panicking for nothing, really, you feel the same way, but it’s endearing how hard he’s trying to be chill while still obviously desperate for an answer.
Before you get the chance to pinch yourself you hear the shower shutting off and your heart rate skyrockets.
You immediately drop the phone, covering your face with your hands. He's about to walk out of the bathroom any second now and you’re going to have to actually talk to him, and you don’t know how.
Sure, you want to talk to him, but the thought kind of also makes you want to throw up. You're only, like, eighty percent sure he wasn't joking. That's not enough.
There’s a moment of silence as you wait, wondering if it would be better to just turn your phone off and pretend it was dead so you couldn't read the messages. But before you can decide, the door creaks open and Felix reappears, hair damp.
He opens his mouth, closes it, shuffles his feet, opens his mouth again. “I, uh—”
You can’t help it — even though you’re nervous as hell too, the way he’s standing there looking like he’s in some sort of crisis is too adorable. You should probably put him out of his misery, but you’re also kind of enjoying seeing him like this. Just a little.
“You good?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
“...Huh?”
“You’re looking a little stressed.”
“I’m totally fine,” he protests hotly, but his voice cracks just a little. He looks away, ears turning pink, and he clears his throat before making his way over to the bed.
He plops down on the edge of the bed next to you and stares at the floor, tense.
It’s strange to see him looking so nervous, knowing he is the confident one, the one who initiated this, started this whole thing — and now he’s staring at the floor like he’s bracing for a blow.
You feel a little bad, but the look on his face is too cute, and you’re too overwhelmed by the realization that he must really do like you. What the fuck? At least, he's acting incredibly suspicious.
For a long moment the two of you just sit there. You feel like you might wake up from a dream at any second, while Felix seems to be struggling to say something, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fisted in the comforter.
And you have to admit that this situation is kind of hilarious, because never in a million years would you have guessed that Felix would be the one to act like this out of the two of you.
Finally, you can’t hold it in anymore and you struggle to stifle a laugh.
He shoots you a betrayed look, clearly offended that you’re laughing at his distress. “Why are you laughing?”
You keep trying to hold back your amusement, but your attempts fail and you keep having to cover your mouth to stifle your giggling. Felix looks increasingly more outraged that you’re laughing at his plight, his face turning a deeper and deeper shade of red as he stares at you.
“This is not funny,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“It kind of is,” you say, hiding your mouth with one hand. “You were being so cool before, what happened?”
“Shut up. I'm still cool,” he protests, puffing his cheeks out and turning away, refusing to look at you. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Nooo,” you insist, holding back another laugh. “I’m not.”
“Oh my god,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m actually going to die right now. I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die,” you say, feeling a little bad seeing the look of defeat on his face. “Calm down.”
“I am calm,” he grumbles, even though he clearly isn't. He glances at you and quickly looks away again, his cheeks flushed. “You’re making it worse.”
“Sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand on his arm. “I'm not trying to make fun of you.”
“Liar,” he mutters, but he doesn’t shake your hand off. After a moment he seems to untense slightly, and he lets out a shaky sigh.
He finally looks at you and swallows, his eyes flickering across your face. “So… um.”
His eyes keep darting away and then back to your face again, like he wants to look at you but is afraid of getting caught staring. It’s kind of adorable to see him looking so self-conscious.
“Are we gonna talk about this?” he asks, forcing out the words.
“About… what?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Uh… yeah. Um…”
Now that it's come down to it, your heart is racing again. He keeps looking at you, then away, then back again. Each time his gaze is on you, you get a glimpse of his expression and it makes your breath catch in your throat.
There's nothing to worry about. He said he likes you. Yeah, hypothetically. No one ever means that literally. And look at how he's acting. But he didn't say outright that he likes you. You don't know what to do.
You clear your throat. “Is… there much to say? You already said a lot. Really spammed my phone.”
He flushes more and makes a strangled sound somewhere between a whine and a laugh, his hands going to his face.
“Sorry,” he mutters through his fingers. “I was freaking out.” He lowers his hands just enough to peer at you. “I didn’t... I didn’t say anything super embarrassing, did I?”
“It was funny,” you tell him. “You were being really stupid.”
He lifts his head enough to glare at you. “Thanks.”
“No, but like— in a cute way,” you add quickly, watching as his expression shifts.
“I wasn’t being cute,” he mutters, though he seems a little less embarrassed.
“No, I’d say you were being cute.”
He’s definitely still blushing, avoiding eye contact. “I was not,” he says, petulant.
Then you decide, fuck it, and lean over real quick, watching his eyes widen before you press a quick kiss on his cheek, right by the corner of his mouth.
He gasps immediately when your lips brush his skin, his blush immediately worsens and you watch it spread down his neck. He makes an indignant sound, his hand flying to his cheek where you had kissed him, and he looks at you in shock.
“S-See?” you stutter, turning your head away quickly to hide your own warm cheeks. “Um… cute.”
A moment passes as he just gawks at you, his face still bright red. His hand is still on his cheek, his mouth open in bewilderment.
And then his brain seems to restart, and he lets out a huff, finally dropping his hand. “Damn,” he mutters. “Damn…”
He’s still blushing furiously, and every time he looks at you, his eyes get all wide. You giggle a little and he shoots you a withering glare.
“You’re being mean,” he whines. “This is cruel. I’m going to die and you're laughing at me.”
You bite your tongue. “Sorry.”
He glares at you again, though it's lost any real heat, before he relents and drags a hand over his face with a groan. He sits there for a moment longer, staring at the wall like he’s trying to make sense of everything. “So…” he says slowly. “Does that… what does that mean?”
There's a certain weight to the question. You take a moment to collect yourself. You feel lightheaded, your heart beating so loud you wonder if he can hear it.
“What do you mean?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.
He turns to look at you, still red in the face. “You just kissed me,” he points out. “What does that mean?”
You try to keep your expression carefully neutral, but you can feel your own cheeks heating up just as intensely. “I mean,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “I guess… theoretically… it would mean… I, um… like you..?”
He freezes, just staring at you for a long moment with wide eyes. “You…”
He seems to be making an effort to look casual, but his body language betrays him, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping against the floor anxiously.
His eyes roam around, seeming to look everywhere but at you, before finally landing on your face again. “Theoretically… you like me?” he repeats after a moment, his voice still sounding faintly disbelieving.
The way he’s looking at you, it’s almost too much. You’re so flustered you can barely see straight, and you feel like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest.
“I guess...” you say, trying to keep your tone light even though you're pretty sure you're shaking. “...Yeah?”
He’s speechless, staring at you in shocked silence for what seems like a very long time. His mouth is opening and closing in a manner that would be funny if you weren’t completely freaking out yourself.
It takes a minute for him to react, blinking rapidly. “You…” he repeats, but it comes out breathless, like he’s still in shock. “You like me? Like, as in…”
His voice is so disbelieving that you’re starting to second guess yourself. “I… hypothetically,” you mutter, feeling silly for still using that as a crutch.
“Hypothetically,” he echoes. His lips curl into a tentative smile. “You’re not… joking?” he asks carefully. “This isn’t some kind of… I don’t know. You’re not messing around?”
“Did you mean everything you said?” you ask, feeling a pang of uncertainty.
He looks startled to be put on the spot, and he stutters for a moment before responding. “Yes. I— Of course,” he says earnestly. “I was just afraid you wouldn't…”
He trails off, eyes darting away from you for a moment before focusing back on your face. He takes a breath and his lips turn up in a bashful smile.
"So… what does this mean?" he asks, shifting to face you fully. His eyes search yours for an answer, a hopeful look in them.
“Are we…” you swallow, feeling nauseous and giddy all at once. “Should we be, like… dating… theoretically?”
Felix looks incredibly flustered as he stares back at you, looking absolutely bewildered, like the thought had never even crossed his mind until this moment.
“Dating…” he mumbles incredulously. “Dating… holy shit… You… you want to…?” he asks haltingly, his eyes fixed on yours.
His reaction makes you feel a little self conscious, wondering if somehow you’ve misread the situation entirely. You bite your cheek. “Maybe?” you say faintly.
You can almost see his mind spinning, processing this sudden development. He seems completely dumbfounded, blinking rapidly like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
After what seems like an eternity of stunned silence, he finally finds his voice again. “Like… for real?”
“I mean…” you say awkwardly, feeling very exposed right now. “I… yeah? If you want…? It makes sense, right? Theoretically?”
He lets out a breath, his eyes wide. “I... Yeah. That makes sense. Uh, I…” He's still staring at you like he can’t quite believe you're actually real. “Am I dreaming?” His expression is so earnest, like he’s afraid you might vanish at any second.
You huff out a laugh. “Need me to pinch you?”
He lets out a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a whine. “Maybe.”
You reach out and pinch his arm gently but firmly.
“Ow,” he complains.
“You're the one who wanted it.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to do it so hard.” He rubs his arm, giving you a half-hearted glare. His cheeks are still red, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. He looks incredibly cute right now. “You didn’t say you were going to maim me.”
You roll your eyes. “My apologies, your highness.”
He sticks his tongue out at you, still massaging his arm.
You can't help but laugh a little. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling up at the sides. He looks a little less stunned now, and the sight of his smile manages to calm your racing heartbeat a little bit.
"So…" he says after a moment, still looking at you intently. “So… we’re actually doing this?” he asks, his voice still a little hesitant. “You and me?”
Three words have never felt so heavy. Your heart feels like it's jumping into your throat, your blood thrumming in your ears. This is actually real.
You nod slowly, words suddenly a little tricky to find. “You and me," you manage, a little breathlessly.
His answering smile is wide and dazzling, and it makes your heart do a little flip.
“Damn,” he says, a small huff of a laugh slipping past his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think things would turn out this way.” He looks genuinely awed, like he still can’t believe you’ve actually agreed to this, his eyes wide and shining. He reaches out and gingerly takes one of your hands in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.
It's strange. You've held hands before, but somehow the small action has you blushing harder than anything else you've done with him.
He’s staring so intently at your hands together, a small smile on his lips. He lets out a laugh, then looks up at you. “Is this weird?” he asks, a playful lilt to his voice.
You manage a shaky laugh, trying to calm your nerves. “A little,” you admit.
A soft, amused huff leaves his lips, before his smile turns more mischievous. Suddenly, he tugs on your hand to pull you towards him.
You let out a startled yelp, losing your balance and toppling forward on top of him. You catch yourself before you fully collide with him, forearms bracing against the bed as you find yourself inches away from Felix’s face. His hands immediately go to your waist, steadying you.
“Hey,” he says, smiling up at you. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face, his touch warm and soft. You feel your face getting hotter, the proximity to him making it hard to think straight.
“You’re blushing,” he points out teasingly.
“Yeah, well,” you say, your heart thundering in your chest. “You did that on purpose.”
He grins. “Maybe.”
His gaze just wanders over your face for a moment before he suddenly pulls your head down and presses a kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek. He’s kissing you all over your face, his breath warm on your skin. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers, and he’s just so—
“That's you,” you mutter, your breath hitching as he brushes over a sensitive spot near your jaw, and he grins.
“Mmm... You think I'm pretty?”
Idiot. You want to punch him so bad — how could anyone not think that — but his mouth finds yours again, his hand moving up to your chest to feel the fluttering of your heart against his palm. He kisses you slow and deep, as if trying to memorize the feel of you.
Eventually he pulls back, breathing hard. His eyes are unfocused and you can see the pulse beating fast in the hollow of this throat.
“Wow,” he whispers. “Wow, I like you so much.”
You squeeze your eyes shut before you literally start swooning. “Uh… cool,” you mutter. You know, like an idiot.
“Cool?” he repeats, amused. “Really?”
“Shut up.”
He lets out a huff. “You’re so smooth,” he teases, a smile in his voice. “But you still haven’t said it back.”
You open your eyes to find him looking at you expectantly, an exaggerated pout on his lips. “How am I supposed to know your feelings, hm? You're killing me here.”
“You're so fucking cheesy,” you complain. “I already said it.”
He hums, a wounded look on his face. “Yeah, hypothetically or something. As if that means shit. You’re gonna wither my heart here. Just gonna leave me wondering if—”
“I like you too,” you blurt out, words tripping over each other in your haste to get them out. “Obviously.”
His eyes widen and he stares up at you, mouth hanging open in a little ‘o’. For a moment it almost seems like he’s speechless, but then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face and he laughs.
“Yeah? You do?” he asks, the look in his eyes clearly fishing for more. “How much?”
“I'll fucking kill you,” you mutter, but you’re sure the heat in your face diminishes any vehemence.
“Ouch,” he says, laughing again. “You’d kill your new boyfriend?”
Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. You falter before managing to stammer out, “U-Um, boyfriend…”
He laughs and pulls you down to him again. You let out a squeak of surprise this time as you fall onto his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer.
“Yeah,” he says, voice laced with a teasing lilt. “Boyfriend. You’re stuck with me now.”
You bite your lip. “I'll uh…” you mumble into his chest. “I'll think about moving in. Like, actually.”
His arms tighten around you at the words, and he lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah?” he asks, the excitement evident in his tone. “You’d… really? For real?”
“Maybe,” you say, your voice just a little shaky. “I might.”
He laughs, his chest vibrating underneath you as he hugs you even tighter. “No take backs.”
He nuzzles further into you, resting his cheek against the top of your head, apparently not minding your still damp hair. You feel his hand start rubbing circles against your back. You shiver a little, his touch sending a little thrill through you.
It feels so… domestic. Being in his arms like this. This easy, comfortable intimacy that used to be so foreign to you. You never thought you’d get to have this.
After a few minutes of calm silence, Felix speaks again. “What do we like… do?”
“Um…” you laugh a bit. “I don't know? I thought you would know.”
“Me? I mean… It's just weird because we've been friends, like, forever.”
He's right. The boundaries feel a bit blurry now. You lift your head a little to look up at him. His eyes are a little unfocused, his gaze roaming around the room as he thinks.
“I— I can’t believe I’m dating my best friend. That's so cliché,” he says, before pausing. “I mean… We're still friends, right? That doesn’t like… change?”
“I… yeah..?” You think you'd rather die than lose him as a friend. “We'll always be friends.”
To emphasize your point, you reach up and flick his forehead gently.
“Dude!” he complains, rubbing his forehead. “What was that for?”
“You’re being stupid,” you tell him. “If we're not gonna still be friends then I don't wanna do this at all.”
“You're still violent,” he mutters, pouting a little before smiling. “Okay, okay, okay. Friends forever.”
—
(Later…)
“We should go on a date.”
You almost completely trip and fall over on your way to the couch in the living room, but manage to catch yourself. “A date?”
“Yeah,” Felix says, looking a little sheepish. “Like, out somewhere. Fancy dinner. Candlelight. The whole thing.”
You don't know why it surprised you so much. Of course couples go on dates. Still, you raise an eyebrow at him. “The whole thing,” you repeat, a hint of disbelief in your voice.
He pouts at you. “Come on. I’m trying to be romantic here. Work with me.”
With a sigh, you sit next to him and look sideways at him. “I can’t believe you’re serious. Candlelight—”
“Hey.” He straightens up, a determined look on his face. “I am serious. It’s gonna be romantic and sweet and amazing and you’re going to fall deeply in love with me and—”
You roll your eyes at his words, unable to hold back a smile. “Is that so, Casanova?”
His ears flush a bit, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. I’ll have you know I’ve charmed plenty of people this way.”
You roll your eyes again, still smiling.
“And then after I make you swoon with my unstoppable rizz and devilish good looks, we’ll… make out in the back of my car?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
Your face flushes red at the suggestion, but you quickly try to compose yourself. “Yeah, right. I'm not even special, huh? You do that with everyone?”
Felix laughs, his eyes glittering with amusement. “No! No,” he protests, shaking his head quickly.
He reaches out to grab your hand, his touch warm and gentle. He interlaces your fingers together, holding your hand gently but firmly in his.
“No, it’s just you,” he says, an earnest look on his face. “I promise. Just you.”
The sincerity in his voice has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you can feel your cheeks flushing a little again. You look down at your hands together, feeling a strange sort of vulnerability.
“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I think you've been watching too many cheesy rom coms.”
He laughs. “Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “But it’s a good plan, right?”
You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t help but feel affection bloom in your chest. This is what you missed. The easy banter, the playful teasing.
“Yeah, sure,” you say. “Very suave. Charm my pants off in an expensive restaurant. You should show up with a boombox while you're at it.”
Felix grins at that. “Hell yeah.”
You're suddenly startled by the sound of the front door unlocking. You let go of Felix's hand but you barely get a second to think before the door is swinging open and a boisterous voice bursts through the room.
“Yooo, Felix you in? Minho kicked me out cus apparently studying is important and I don't get anything done over there but I—”
You and Felix turn to face Jisung, who cuts off when he sees you together. His mouth drops open in a small ‘o’ and his eyes narrow as they flick back and forth between the two of you curiously.
You blink a few times, wondering what his deal is until — Oh shit. You quickly slap your hand over your neck but it's too late.
“Oh. Dude. No fucking way,” Jisung grins, looking absolutely gleeful. “Innie totally owes me twenty bucks.”
You and Felix exchange horrified looks. “What?!”
—
a/n: so.... what started as a silly one shot scenario quickly devolved into a 30k+ long series LMAO.. honestly, i never would have written as much as i did if not for yall loving it sm. thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support, i never ever could have dreamed it! i hope this was enjoyable and a satisfying resolution (^—^) plss lmk what you thought!
— you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.
w.count → 0.9k
genre → comfort, a dash of comedy at the end
warning → chan referred to as chris, babe, my love; reader referred to as baby and babe; kind of sad but it ends well♡
a.n → basically i'm projecting what kind of relationship-slash-communication style i want in a relationship, so... yeah. think i'll be on my own for quite a while, lol. anyways! i also have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop, do check it out♡
⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi
⋆ see masterlist
chris has been acting weird lately, and you don't know why.
you're usually not one to mind—given the way his schedules these days barely even spare the time for him to rest, you understand that your boyfriend is bound to be less like his usual self. you've sat down with chris to talk about it early in your relationship—the expectations, the ideal and less-than-ideal situations, the how-tos, and 4 years in, everything has all worked out just fine.
lately, however,
chris has been acting really strange.
"babe, i'm home," chris' voice softly echoed through the apartment, followed by the rustling of what you could assume is the layer of jacket and hoodie you got him to wear to battle the dropping temperatures of november seoul. "where are you?"
"kitchen!" you chirped, swiftly rinsing off the pots and pans you've been battling against for the past 10 minutes, "i'm still washing the dishes. are you hungry? i made some curry for dinner, it's in the—babe? are you okay?"
the cheeriness in your voice immediately turned into worry when you felt chris' arms around your waist, holding you tight as he allows himself to melt onto you, face buried in the crook of your neck.
after all the years of being at the receiving end of chris' special mix of physical affection, you've naturally learned to differentiate the meaning in your boyfriend's touches—is he just being affectionate? or is he trying to tease you? is he jealous of the interaction you had? or did he sense something and is trying to keep you safe? you have always been able to read chris just from the way his skin grazes upon yours, and so far you've barely ever been wrong,
but god, you sincerely hope you're hitting far from the mark this time.
"hey," you softly called out upon the absence of chris' response, quickly disregarding the dishes to rinse your soapy hands before turning to face chris' tired features, "is everything alright, my love?"
instead of an answer, chris simply leaned onto your touch as soon as your hands came to cradle his cheeks—ones freezing from the cold weather he just escaped moments ago, and only then, you realized just how long it has been since you've properly seen your boyfriend.
how come you haven't noticed the dark, looming shadow in his eyes? or the way his skin had lost its usual glow and instead grew dry with the season? how come you didn't see the way the corner of his lips had grown heavier, or the way his curls you oh-so adored had adopted its long forgotten frizz?
how come it took you so long to properly see chris?
"i'm sorry, baby," running the pads of your thumbs across chris' cheeks, you forced yourself to swallow the lump of guilt lodged in your throat, "i just realized i've been too inattentive to you, and i'm sorry. have you been wanting to talk it out with me?"
and only then, you saw the faint glimmer you fell in love with, peeking between the grey clouds in chris' eyes.
"yeah," despite the hoarseness in his voice, you could hear the warmth returning in the words chris uttered as he nodded, "but i just… i didn't know how to bring it up since i knew you've been dealing with your own stuff as well."
chris quietly exhaled, soft breath grazing your lips when he leaned his forehead onto yours and let his eyes fluttered close, allowing his walls of self-protection to finally crumble as he speaks, "i'm sorry, baby. it was never my intention to let this fester for this long or to make you feel bad in any way. i just didn't know how. i promise."
you know you're not perfect, and neither is chris—but you also know chris has always made it his life mission to make sure you're the happiest you've ever been when you're with him. one honest mistake will never erase the efforts and sacrifice chris has ever made for you, and you'll never let that happen.
"i know, baby," you hummed, lightly dragging the tips of your nails against his scalp when your fingers found the dark locks of his hair, "i don't blame you. i shouldn't have assumed about your condition and let it slip too. i won't let it happen again, i promise."
and you can feel the way chris' shoulder relax at the words you utter,
because just like him, he knows you'll do everything in your power to keep every single one of your promises.
"thank you, baby," chris pulled you into his embrace, completely engulfing you in his warmth while he pressed his lips on your forehead. "i promise i'll try to be better at this too, and thank you for being patient with me. i love you."
it didn't matter how many times have you heard chris whisper those three words in your ears, or how many times have he held you like you're everything that ever mattered to him,
chris will always make your soul feel the most alive it has ever been.
"i love you too, baby," you finally allowed yourself to smile as your arms found their way around your boyfriend's waist, holding him close as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat—
"…babe?"
"…yeah," chris sheepishly nodded while rubbing his stomach, "i haven't had lunch too, actually…"
a protest involuntarily slip past your lips along with the forming lines of frown between your eyebrows, perfectly portraying your disapproval of chris' course of action.
"go sit down, i'll fix your plate for you," shaking your head, you turned towards the pot of warm curry on the stovetop in faux disappointment before you continued,
"and we'll talk about whatever's been stressing my christopher out, okay?"
oh, you can definitely confirm,
the sound of chris' soft chuckle will never fail to bring a smile to your face.
your first time on tinder ends in... success? with thanksgiving only eight weeks away, you're hell bent on getting a boyfriend before then to show off to your family. with your first and only option being a dating app, you've scored a beau within hours. will he be the one you show up with thanksgiving day?
➤ see hyunjin's tinder profile here !
smut! mdni! oral r, lots of praise, lil bit of a breeding kink (protected sex tho!) wc ~10k
“yeah, but tinder? really?” your twin stood in front of you, eyebrows twinged in disgust, hands clutching his phone in front of him, thumbs hovering over his screen.
“what other choice do i have? i have eight weeks to get a boyfriend. the clock is fucking ticking,” you threw your hands in the air, stopping your pacing back and forth in your brother’s cluttered bedroom.
“i don’t understand why you let them get to you, bro,” he shook his head, climbing onto his bed, a shirt falling to the floor from the movement. “who cares if you don’t have a boyfriend? just be single, it’s better that way.”
“you literally have a girlfriend, ace,” you crossed your arms, fighting every instinct to not pick up the shirt that had fallen. “you can’t say shit like that when they don’t bother you. mom, matt and even vi started getting on my case about it.”
ace sighed, throwing his head back. “you don’t know anyone? not a single man who’d take you on a date?” he picked his head up to look at you with eyebrows raised, then continued when you gave him a swift shake of your head. “what about yeosang? yunho, san?”
you don’t think your face could look more horrified, “that’s fucking disgusting. we’ve all been best friends since we were basically born, they’re like another you.”
“they sound like three options to me,” he shrugged, then put his legs under his comforter that was scrunched up on the side of his bed, “can you close my door on your way out?”
you made a sound of frustration, somewhere between a grunt and a whine as you left his room, right after throwing the shirt in his annoyingly full hamper and closing the door behind you. you went back to your own bedroom, the complete opposite of his, bed made with four different pillows for show, not a single article of clothing on the floor. the cleanliness made you smile, you even felt cleaner after leaving his room, you immediately hopped onto your bed and opened tinder.
SOOBIN, 23
if u like jjk chainsaw man or solo leveling PLS hmu
JEONGHAN, 29
recruiting new members for my cult
HYUNJIN, 24
swipe right if you like art & wine
INTAK, 21
5’11 since it matters
“jesus,” you said under your breath, you didn’t know if it was because you just signed up for the app and it showed you who everyone was swiping on, or if everyone around you was really just that gorgeous. everyone got a swipe right, and almost everyone afterward until the app notified you that you ran out of likes.
“ran out?!” you yelled at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. you threw your phone on the bed beside you, the back of your head falling into the pillow with a loud huff.
then your phone pinged with a notification.
you picked it up at the speed of light, eyes widening at the little fire icon on your notification screen. you opened the app quickly, checking your matches.
intak: hey ;)
you bit your lip, a smile growing on your face. your first match!
you: heyyy :)))
intak: wsp
you: nothing muchhhh just laying in bed wbu!!
intak: bored :/
intak: u send pics?
you immediately frowned, the adrenaline that was just coursing through you depleted within seconds, your heartbeat already slowing. this was why you didn’t have a boyfriend, why you didn’t date, why you never have.
you quickly unmatched him, throwing your phone beside you again. maybe your twin was right, maybe downloading tinder really was stupid — it’s an app used primarily for hookups, and that’s not what you were interested in. you were looking for someone to show off to your ridiculously large family. to your cousins who have always belittled you for staying single, to your grandma who wants you to be with someone she approves of, to your little fucking sister who called you lame for never having a boyfriend.
you were sick of it. you wanted a partner better than the ones your cousins have, one that would make your grandma give you the ring that still sat on her finger, one that would hangout with your little sister. one that would make your father proud, would make him smile down at you, one that he’d feel ecstatic about you walking down the aisle toward— even if he couldn’t be here to walk you to him.
your phone pinged again.
you picked it up with lowered expectations, clicking on the fire icon again.
hyunjin: hey gorgeous :)
you looked through his profile again before answering. he had seven pictures up on his profile, every single one of them filling you with more curiosity. he had a few photos up with art you can only assume he made, a mirror selfie, two pictures taken of him, and a picture with another gorgeous man. you couldn’t believe he was on tinder — he’s perfect.
you: hey handsome :)
hyunjin: are u a twin?
you: i do happen to be a twin !
hyunjin: thats sick. are u guys identical? u look identical
hyunjin: yall have telepathy or whatever?
you: we are not!!! we get that a lot lol
you: tbh no
you: god must save that for the identical twins💔
hyunjin: are u sure ur not identical
hyunjin: u guys look exactly the same
hyunjin: how are u twins and u dont have telepathy
you perched an eyebrow, fingers typing faster.
you: yes i am sure???
you: are you a twin???
hyunjin: no
you: right
you: ill be sure to let him know we need to try harder to be telepathic
hyunjin: i think telepathy is really beautiful, the whole concept of twins actually.
hyunjin: sharing the same DNA??? being essentially the same person split into two bodies, sharing things that no one else will understand just bc of how you were born. its really poetic
you: well were fraternal so we don't share all of our dna just 50% like any other sibling
you: we could not be farther from the same person lol but yeah the concept of twins is rlly cool
hyunjin: anyways enough about that
hyunjin: do u like art?
you let out a small chuckle— the conversation almost didn’t seem real. you went from one man asking about nudes to another asking you about your genetic makeup, then he asks if you like art? you couldn’t believe the face attached to these messages.
you: yeah i fuck with paintings
you: i see you are an artist
you: i like what's on your profile !!
hyunjin: thank you :)
hyunjin: would u want to go out this saturday? an exhibit opened up downtown, we could go to dinner after? it’s wine night at the bar across the street from the exhibit
the adrenaline that escaped you earlier shot back through your body like lightning, you looked through his profile again. he’s so gorgeous, it seemed too easy — is he a catfish? there’s no way he’s just walking around single with a face like that, and he wants you?
an art exhibit, wine afterwards, it seemed so sophisticated. definitely what you were looking for.
you: yeah id love to!
you: send me ur number we can talk details (:
for the days to follow, you and hyunjin had been texting constantly. goodmorning, goodnight, what you’re eating throughout the day, random thoughts you’re having, even deep talks that go as long as one to two in the morning. day by day he was tweaking your mindset bit by bit — every morning you woke up with the same thought, maybe dating isn’t so bad.
three days of a honeymoon phase did not go unnoticed by your family, or your friends.
“what’s got you in such a good mood, tiny?” your mom asked, mixing her coffee with a silver spoon at the glass kitchen table, one leg crossed over the other. you should be used to the nickname by now but it still makes you cringe — twenty two and still called tiny by your entire family.
you didn’t even realize you basically skipped down to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for yourself while humming a song hyunjin had sent you last night. you whipped your head around to her, a smile on your face, “it’s saturday.”
her look was unbelieving, she knows you better than that. “you’re never this happy this early.”
“she has a date tonight,” your twin says through a yawn, walking through the kitchen, arms stretching above his head. “with a tinder boy.”
“ace!” you gasp, smacking his arm. you spoke under your breath, “why would you say that?”
“what’s a tinder?” your mom asked from the table, looking at you both with furrowed eyebrows.
you opened your mouth to speak but ace cut you off, “a hookup app.”
your mom gasped, eyes widening, “tiny!”
“it’s not just a hookup app,” san follows ace into the kitchen, black tee sitting tight against his skin, his arms flexing through the fabric — he was always your favorite.
“it basically is, every girl i’ve met on there i’ve hit,” the smirk is clear on ace’s face as he looks to san, who daps him up with a chuckle. san mutters a nice under his breath — immediately demoted from your favorite.
“that’s because you’re gross. we’re going to an art gallery and going to the bar across the street for wine night after,” you smiled, a proud look on your face as you turned to your mom. she didn’t share the glance.
“with who?” your step dad, matt, enters the kitchen from the living room, a mug of coffee in his own hands. “doesn’t sound like something the boys would do willingly on their saturday night.”
“great, let’s just make my date a family discussion, thanks ace,” you rolled your eyes, walking to the fridge to grab your bottle of oat milk.
“a date? you don’t go on dates, tiny,” matt asks from the opposite side of the kitchen, hands on his hips, his coffee mug on the counter next to him.
“i do now,” you huff while pouring the oat milk into your coffee. “don’t ask any more questions, i’m going. end of story.”
matt pulls his lips into a thin line, “not sure i like the sound of this.”
“she’ll be fine,” ace counters as he walks to your side, the gallon of whole milk he just took from the fridge in his hands. “if she needs anything she has at least four different people she can call, one of us being six foot two.”
“exactly,” you nod, mentally thanking ace for backing you up. he looks to you with a tight lipped smile and a hand on your shoulder, his way of saying you’re welcome. maybe you do have a little bit of telepathy, you’d have to tell hyunjin.
getting ready was hard — you looked at hyunjin’s profile on tinder at least six different times before settling on an outfit. in one of his pictures he had on two tank tops, one fitted and one loose with a graphic covering the space, a beanie on his head, a pair of denim shorts and loafers. he was definitely into fashion, if anyone else had tried to wear that same outfit they’d look insane, but he pulled it off with ease.
in another he wore black denim jeans, a fitted black quarter zip sweater that covered half his hands. he had his hair tied up and big glasses on his face —- such a simple outfit curated in a way that made him look so expensive. you just knew he’d show up in something immaculate, you had big shoes to fill to match his vibe, but you’d do it. you wanted to impress him, you needed a boyfriend out of this, after all.
the one thing you had in your possession, the only thing that looked nearly as expensive as him was a long coat that was your mother’s. it took ten minutes of begging but she let you borrow it for the night, your only issue was basing the rest of your outfit around the coat. jeans didn’t look dressy enough, dress pants didn’t look girlfriend enough. you settled on a mini skirt with a pair of tights underneath, you had a pair of knee high boots and a sweater that pulled everything together. the coat fit you perfectly and hit almost the height of your boots, it was the perfect length. you spent at least an hour on your hair, another hour on your makeup, by the time you were finished getting ready you felt like you had really pulled the expensive look off.
“it isn’t ten degrees outside, you know,” ace said as he sat too casually on your bed, your shared three best friends accompanied him on the white sheets.
“i look expensive, do i not?” you played with your hair as you stood in front of your full length mirror, shooting daggers at your twin through the reflection.
“you look like you're in your mom’s coat,” yeosang said from his spot on the bed, peeking his head around san’s shoulder.
you scoffed as you turned around, “all you guys do is insult me, how am i supposed to feel any ounce of confidence before my big date?”
“i think you look great, tiny,” yunho turned his head to look at you from his spot on your bed, his massive frame taking up half the mattress. with his head laid on your pillows, his feet still dangled off the edge of your queen sized bed.
“thank you,” you smiled to yunho, the only one who understood what a girl needs to hear before a date.
your parents were close friends with the parents of the three boys on your bed, the lot of them have been a friend group since before you were born. you and your twin had no choice but to be friends with them growing up, forming your own friend group with the three boys that never disbanded, only grew closer despite your age differences. you always assumed you’d be close with them forever, that’s just how it was, how it’d always be.
they were great friends most of the time, ace wasn’t kidding when he said you had four people you could call in any situation, any emergency, they’d always pick up. they were as much as your brothers as ace is, you considered all three of them like family.
“i think you look great too, you gonna fuck him?” san perched an eyebrow, wiggling them with a mischievous smile as you made a face at him.
“i am not a fuck on the first date kind of girl,” you shrugged, walking over to your vanity to check your makeup again. you grabbed your tube of lip gloss as you sat down, uncapping it to swipe over your already glossed lips.
“how do you know?” yeosang giggled from the bed, “closest thing you’ve ever had to a date was prom, and you went with me.”
“that’s actually true,” you shrugged after applying the gloss, “maybe i might. who knows?”
“i hope you do, god knows you need it teens,” ace mumbles from the bed, his phone in his hands again – probably texting his girlfriend, reia. the pair had been together for six months, your twin’s longest relationship yet. you hadn’t had many chances to hangout with her, but from the times you have she seemed pretty cool, probably too good for your brother.
“i feel like maybe you shouldn’t be the one to say that to me,” your lips pulled into a line as you turned into your chair to face the group. “anyways, who’s driving me? the exhibit is downtown, like twenty minutes away.”
“yun’s the only one who has his car, unless you want one of us to drive your car,” san offered, and the other two boys immediately looked to yunho.
“guess i’m taking you,” yunho said, sitting up on the mattress, no trace of malcontent on his face. “you ready to go now?”
you nodded with a smile, hopping up from the wooden chair. your parents didn’t ask many questions before you left, just telling you to be safe and don’t do anything they wouldn’t do. knowing their background there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do, your mom’s college stories haunt you to this day.
the smiths played through the speakers of yunho’s car on the drive there, softer rock music instead of the usual heavier music he listens to. you brushed it off to the rain that dripped down the windows of the car, the vibe outside not much for heavy rock music with a loud, thumping bass, the emotional and almost melancholic vibe to steven patrick morrissey’s voice was a perfect match.
“i’m happy one of us is taking you,” yunho finally spoke, the music quiet enough for you to hear him clearly. he looked over at you and smiled, the fingers on his right hand still wrapped around his steering wheel. “i don’t have to go over the whole call me if you need anything spiel, right?”
you laughed, “no, i know already, ace said it to matt this morning. i have four people i can call, blah blah blah.”
“i’ll leave my ringer on, so call me, don’t even bother with ace,” he shook his head, shifting his eyes back on the road in front of him – you missed the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “anything could happen, you don’t even really know this guy.”
“i know too much about this guy after only texting him for three days, trust me,” you laughed, “everything will be fine, i’m just looking at some paintings and having a glass of wine.”
“alright,” was all he replied, keeping his gaze on the road. yunho had never been one for many words, he was the one out of the three that you knew the least about. he kept his secrets close to him, was intentional when he spoke, only said what needed to be said always, yet he was still somehow the one you felt the most driven toward whenever you hung out. maybe it was because you knew way too much about the others, it left a certain curiosity about yunho.
you looked down at your phone, a new text from hyunjin from one minute ago was the only thing on your notifications screen.
hyunjin: just got here! i’ll wait for you inside the lobby :)
you: i’m pulling up now !
yunho pulled over in front of the gallery, looking toward you with another tight lipped smile. “have fun, be careful, please call me if you need anything.”
“gosh, i will, jeez,” you smiled, all teeth, then unbuckled yourself. “thank you for the ride, i’ll see you later if you’re still at the house, gonna hopefully bum a ride home from hyunjin.”
“i can pick you up, too,” he adds, and you roll your eyes. you open the door, sliding out of the car onto the slick sidewalk.
“jesus, yunho, if you wanted to see me that bad you should’ve just taken me to the damn art gallery,” you teased, resting your hand on the top of the car door.
his smile is wide as he teases, “your grandma fucking adores me, tiny.”
“goodbye, yunho!” you called as you shut the car door, a smile on your face as you began your walk up to the building that held the exhibit.
within a second of being by yourself, reality seemed to hit you fast. just behind the tall, dark doors, stood a gorgeous man who was meeting you – taking you on a date, to an art exhibit at that. it all felt so sophisticated, so mature, maybe this would be easier than you thought. who knew tinder would produce such a well thought out date?
as you pushed open the door to the exhibit, you were greeted with a fucking museum. cream walls, pillars, the whole thing – you were grateful you dressed the way you did. your eyes scanned the people in the lobby, searching for mister tall, dark and handsome himself.
as your eyes finally laid on him, you were really grateful you dressed the way you did. his hair was down, curly and messy yet still put together, a matching corduroy set of pants and a jacket, a black tee underneath. necklaces sat around his neck, laid across his chest, bracelets on his wrist and rings on his fingers – he made such a simple outfit extravagant, he looked like he had a personal stylist, someone to dress him with clothes that were tailored just for him.
as you walked towards him, you felt your body locking up, the excitement you felt moments prior transformed to straight nerves. your eyes raked over his build, lean yet muscular, his jaw perfectly chiseled, as his eyes met yours it nearly took your breath away. he smiled, so wide you couldn’t help but return it, he was even more gorgeous than his pictures – in person, hwang hyunjin was fucking breathtaking.
“hey beautiful,” he smiled as you finally approached him, wrapping an arm around you in a quick squeeze. “happy to finally see your pretty face in person.”
“i could say the same thing to you,” you laugh, it comes out nervous, your breath unsteady. “what’s the opposite of a catfish?”
he threw his head back in a laugh, “you flatter me,” he waved his hand side to side, his smile so fucking contagious. instead of deflating, your nerves flare up worse, remembering that this isn’t just a first date with a beautiful man, this is your first date ever. dates didn’t come with an instruction manual, you didn’t know how to act, what to say, what to do. you don’t even like art like that!
he cut off your thoughts, “you ready to go in? i already got us tickets.” the way he looked at you was so inviting, his chocolate eyes so warm it made you dizzy. you nodded with a smile and he led the way, the man working the door offering a hey hyunjin as you walked into the exhibit. you lifted a brow, but thought nothing of it as he grabbed your hand, leading you to the first piece.
his hand completely swallowed yours – veiny hands, long fingers that were covered in silver and nails painted black, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them until he spoke again, letting go of your hand.
“a replica, an ode to josep llimona,” hyunjin stands close to you, nodding toward the sculpture in front of him, then looks down to you. “do you know desolation?”
you shake your head once and he continues, “it’s a sculpture, made in 1907 that’s in the museum of catalonia in barcelona. what do you see when you look at it?”
you look at the sculpture, your head tilting to one side. it was a naked woman leaning onto something like a rock, her fingers intertwined, her face hidden by her hair. she looked distraught, like something terrible had just happened, as if she was suffering or mourning.
“i see a woman in despair,” your words are quiet and he smiles, a wide grin showing all of his teeth. you frown, “it’s sad, i want to help her.”
“in the early 1900s there was a bunch of different pieces of art made for temples, this piece was a part of that group, well, a replica of the piece,” he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, eyes trained on the sculpture before you. his passion was raw as he spoke, “within the group, artists made sculptures of women that had feelings like grief, despair and resignation. the whole idea behind it was capturing feelings instead of beauty.”
“but she is beautiful,” your eyebrows furrowed together, bringing your eyes back to the sculpture before you. you frowned again.
“notice how you can’t see her face?” he leans in closer to you, “her hair is covering it, but you can still tell she’s sad.”
your mouth forms a small o as you turn your head, looking up to him, “oh, shit— you’re right!”
“you’re adorable,” he smiles down at you, “do you know much about art?”
“a little…” your cheeks warm and you look away from him, a sleeve covered hand coming up to mask your blush when your faces had come closer than intended. “basically just what i was taught in high school.”
he lets out a small chuckle, “sorry to go all art nerd on you, then. i did a whole project on desolation last year.”
“no, no, don’t apologize,” you shake your head, “it’s really attractive, actually.”
he smiles again, a pink hue to his cheeks. “good to know.”
he moves to the next piece, long corduroy covered legs pulling you along as if he was tugging on a leash, you were whipped already. tall, gorgeous, respectful and smart, he seemed like the entire package. “ah, this one really speaks to me,” he says as he comes to a stop, squinting at the painting in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“yeah?” you ask, a small smile on your face as you watch him, then look at the painting in front of you. it looked like… a bunch of colors. green, a reddish line in the center, then a deep blue underneath.
it simply seemed like a bunch of colors painted on a canvas, your eyebrows furrowed. “i’m gonna need you to go art nerd on me again, i think.”
he smiles, “this is number two, blue red and green, by mark rothko. it was made in 1958, oil on canvas— do you want the whole backstory or just a little summary?”
“whatever you want to tell me, i’ll listen,” you nod, shifting your weight to one foot, looking up to him as he spoke. his whole face lit up, he had stars in his eyes, you could tell he loved it here, loved art in general.
you loved listening to people speak about what they love, the passion that flows through their words, how they tend to overshare the little details that they find just as important as the big ones. as hyunjin spoke about the green red and blue painting you accidentally tuned him out, eyes focused on his own, his long eyelashes, how the lighting in the building made him look like he belonged to the exhibit.
exquisite, a masterpiece of his own, the way his tongue would sneak out of his mouth to swipe across his bottom lip, how his lips would part just enough to get a peek of the perfect set of teeth that lived inside. you gave him small nods as he spoke, not hearing a word of it, brain whirling about symmetrical his face is.
“it’s basically all about personal translation, how colors can evoke different emotions in people,” he nods, looking back at the painting, “it’s all about the viewer, how it’s interpreted.”
you looked back to the piece. you may have missed his monologue about the guy and the meaning but the art still looked like a bunch of colors to you — your head tilted again, your lips forming a pout. you wished you saw it how he did.
“not feeling this one, hm?” your head snaps back to look up at him, your eyes widening. he must have seen the look on your face.
“no, i love it, it speaks to me, too,” you nod, a nervous smile crossing your cheeks, the lie so clear on your tongue. maybe you didn’t think through what a date at an art exhibit would entail, especially going with someone who studies it. you were clueless in the cream colored walls, you wished you could see through his eyes, understand his thought process.
“it’s okay, definitely abstract,” he shrugs, the warm smile that was still on his face told you he saw straight through your lie but he didn’t mind, “at least you got desolation right on the mark.”
you run a hand through your hair, your cheeks becoming red hot, “i’m enjoying listening to you explain everything to me, though.”
“there’s cooler ones the further we go,” his head nods deeper into the exhibit, his hands finding his pockets. you try not to pout again, maybe if you understood red white and blue better his hand would be intertwined with yours.
as he brought you deeper into the exhibit, his statement sat with you in the silence, especially as you began skipping piece after piece — you thought that if this was his first time here and since he’s clearly an art guy, he wouldn’t be skipping anything. as you listened to the only noise, your boot covered feet hitting the floor, you remembered the doorman who called him by his name earlier.
“have you been here before?” you asked from behind him, your eyes trained on the maroon coloured corduroy.
“no, why?” it felt like a rebuttal as it left his lips, his eyebrows furrowing together, almost as if you insulted him.
“just wondering,” you kept your thoughts to yourself, keeping tabs on every flag you weren’t sure what color to give. as lost as you were in the exhibit, it still interested you to be here, to listen and learn from him as he spoke about the things he loved most — plus there was him, the tall, perfectly gorgeous man that stood in front of you.
the next hour was spent with hyunjin showing you pieces of art that you couldn’t begin to dissect, leaving him to pick them apart piece by piece. the feeling of being on the outside faded with each new painting, new sculpture, new drawing, he made you feel as if art was a distant friend you just needed to catch up with, even if you had never been interested in art before today. the way he explained, the way he taught, how he asked you questions, it made you feel like you knew all the information already– just needed someone to help you remember.
hyunjin was easy to talk to, he was understanding— he was kind, first and foremost. your favorite so far was his thinking face, how he’s quiet as he stares, his arms crossed, his lips pursed. when he was thinking you could see the gears turning, you watched as that beautiful head of his began concocting some form of explanation, a feeling for what he was looking at, how he could explain it to you– how he could make you feel like you knew it already.
then there was his smile, the warmth to his fingers that found yours again, the softness to his palm that enveloped yours perfectly. you begin to forget why you never dated in the first place if they were like this, full of curiosity, such a shared openness between yourself and another person, learning about each other and how to connect in real time. even if you and hyunjin didn’t share a passion for art, your conversation still flowed, you bonded through humor and the smaller things you’d learned about each other through texting.
as you got farther into the exhibit, turning around and making your way back up to the front, you noticed hyunjin took off his teacher hat and put on his charmer hat instead. you didn’t notice the switch, but your cheeks burned on your walk back to the front more than they had the entire date.
“if you want to meet kkami so bad, why don’t you just come over instead?” there was a soft tug to the corners of his lips as he looked down to you, your fingers intertwined as you approached the exit to the exhibit. your adrenaline sparked, heart beating a beat faster, cheeks warming as if on command.
“you don’t want to have wine?” you asked, but you weren’t opposed to the idea– as soon as hyunjin mentioned his dog and sent you pictures of him yesterday, you were sold on meeting him whether that was today or eventually.
“i have wine at my place,” he shrugged, “i also have a record player and a dog.”
you took a moment to think– if you went to the bar, it’d be a public space, which is good for safety reasons and feels more casual than being in his apartment with just the two of you, almost takes the edge off. at the same time, his apartment would be quieter, more intimate, a calmer environment for you to get to know him better, you felt you knew enough about him already to be comfortable around him alone. plus he has a dog.
“what kind of wine do you have?” you lifted a brow, a small smirk playing on your lips. you were sold already, but he didn’t need to know that yet.
his smile was worth a million dollars as he said, “you said you like red, so i picked up an ‘05 burgundy, cote de beaune.”
your smirk grew wider, ignoring the comment about the wine that you were sure was supposed to impress you, “had a plan to get me back at your place all along then, huh?”
“can a man not manifest?” he asked, immediately pulling a laugh straight from your lungs. “that’s a yes then?”
“yes, but only because i want to meet kkami, even if he isn’t very nice. he’ll like me,” you wave a hand at him, passing through the exit where a different doorman gave hyunjin a nod of his chin – a small gesture that didn’t escape your eyes.
hyunjin’s car was nice, nothing special, it still had that new car smell mixed with that of his cologne. he played frank ocean through the speakers at a low volume, background music to the sound of the windshield wipers clearing his vision. you couldn’t help but stare as he drove, eyes lingering on his sharp jaw, how his hair curled around his neck. your focus caught on his ring clad fingers that wrapped around the steering wheel, ears perking up at the soft hum emitting from his throat to the tune of the song. it was comfortable, you were comfortable, you began to regret the last few of your life spent not dating.
when hyunjin unlocked his front door, the lights in his apartment were already dim, and the oreo colored ball of fluff ran up to you immediately. he barked at first, but after you bent down and greeted him with a few strokes to his back, kkami was on his back and quiet, enjoying your affection.
“i told you he’d like me,” you smiled up at hyunjin through your eyelashes.
“i didn’t doubt you for a minute,” he stood smiling with an arm out in your direction. he had already hung his coat on the rack beside the door, he stood above you with a hand out in an offer to take yours too. you stood and began to take it off but he stopped you, painted fingers slipping underneath the wool to slip it off your back himself.
a blush crept back onto your cheeks again as you muttered a thank you, finally looking around to take in his space. all of his lights were dim, casting warmth onto his furniture, all dark and muted and cozy. his tables were all deep wood, there wasn’t much brightness in his space, not even in the books that littered the shelves on his walls. he had a tv across from the couch with a table in between, as you took off your shoes and stepped closer into the space you noticed art magazines laid across the surface.
the art on his walls were all of the same type, you supposed, you wondered if he made them himself. a fuzzy throw blanket laid over the couch, plants lived in the corners, hwang hyunjin’s space was so inviting. you were glad you came here– one look at his own space showed you even more about him.
hyunjin skipped through the apartment, lighting candles, opening his windows just a crack to let the noise of the rain hitting the ground slip through.
“you can sit on the couch if you want, make yourself at home. i’ll grab us some glasses, put some music on,” he said with a hand halfway in a candle, flicking a lighter with his thumb. he was really dedicated to setting the mood.
you nodded and sat on the couch, kkami jumping up beside you on the cushion, crawling onto your lap. you pet his head down to his back, cooing at him getting cozy on your lap, pulling your legs up to cross beneath you.
you heard the scratch of the record player and you turned to see hyunjin standing over it, placing the tonearm on the record while somehow carrying the wine bottle and two glasses by the stem between the fingers of his other hand. music fills the space of the apartment as he walks over to the couch and places the glasses on the table, pouring both of your glasses and placing the bottle between them.
“i can’t believe he’s being this nice,” he says as he sits next to you, an arm swinging over the back of the couch, one leg folded in front of him as he looks down to kkami.
“is this solomon burke?” you ask, eyebrow perching up as you catch the music playing through the apartment, you recognized his voice before the song.
hyunjin looks shocked, his eyes wide and his head tilted slightly forward, “i cannot believe you know that.”
“when did this come out? the sixties?”
“1964 to be exact, rock ‘n soul.”
“when i was younger i had a small infatuation with the movie dirty dancing, my favorite off the album is–”
“cry to me,” you both say in unison, then burst into a fit of giggles, kkami leaping straight off of your lap from your movement.
“i love old music like this, it’s so raw, full of soul,” hyunjin says, grabbing your glasses from the table and handing yours to you. he swirls his around in his glass and you copy him, swirling your own before taking a sip. you tried not to cringe at the taste.
“when men weren’t afraid to say what they wanted to,” you agreed, continuing his thought with your own, “so open in showing emotion, their feelings, their passion. i love it too.”
“ah,” he nods, “that could never be me, i don’t think i could ever hide what i was feeling for a second, i don’t have it in me. i wear my emotions on my face, and proudly.”
you smile, “that’s good, better than good, it’s refreshing. never change that.”
“i don’t plan to,” he shakes his head, taking a sip of his wine, the two of you falling into a moment of silence.
“is this where you make me tell you my deepest, darkest secrets?” you joke, taking a sip from your own glass– you were never much for wine, at your big age of twenty two the most pleasurable alcohol you’ve tasted is a surfside. you get it down without a change to your face, looking through your eyelashes to the man before you.
he lets out a sound of amusement, “you can start by telling me what you’re looking for, then we can get to your deepest darkest secrets.”
“i already told you, i just wanted to go on a date, see where it goes– i’m not looking for anything specifically,” you shrug, referring to one of the first conversations you had through text. you were lying straight through your teeth, you didn’t need to tell him the whole boyfriend before thanksgiving spiel.
“not about the date, dummy, what are you looking for in a partner?” he tilts his head, sinking into the couch, getting more comfortable.
“that’s basically asking me for my deepest, darkest secrets,” you roll your eyes, then give yourself a moment to think, process his question. did you even know what you were looking for?
you thought about your cousins, their partners, your parents, your stepdad, ace, his girlfriend, their dynamic… you knew what you didn’t want.
“i want someone who knows me,” you start, a blush creeping to your cheeks again, “someone who knows the ugliest parts of me and still wants to be with me. someone who knows what i’m thinking, what i’m going to say before i do because they’ve paid that much attention to me.” you brush your hair behind your ear, letting out an uneasy breath. “i have a big family, and they’re really important to me… despite how insane they all are. i want someone who understands that, and my family becomes just as important to them.”
hyunjin nods, his warm eyes trained on you as if he was pulling the thoughts straight from your head, pushing for you to keep going. you welcome the push as your thoughts start to flow freely.
“i want to be with someone true,” you smile, “i want a partner who’s honest, true to themselves and true to me, doesn’t fake anything, none of that sugar coating shit. a true partnership, teamwork, someone who really means it when they say through thick and thin, someone who doesn’t run when shit gets hard.”
“a relationship is pointless to me if it isn’t built on trust, i want to be able to have full faith in my partner and they also have it in me. to be known is to be loved,” you smile, then the smile drops as soon as you realize everything you just said. three sips of wine and you already can’t shut up.
“every time i’ve asked that question in the past, every girl has always said something along the lines of i want someone handsome, funny, smart, kind,” hyunjin’s face is unreadable, a blank expression, yet there’s something tugging at him. “no one’s ever given me such a real answer before.”
“i didn’t mean to, i don’t know where that came from,” you say honestly, then sip your wine again, a bigger sip this time. if you were going to talk like this then you might as well catch a buzz before you do.
“i like the honesty,” he smiles, “and i agree with a lot of it– i can be a lot sometimes, with what i’m passionate about, how my interests can change within a day’s time. i’m not very organized, i like to do things without a schedule, more spontaneous than planned. that’s not everybody’s cup of tea, so if someone were to be with me for real, i’m a lot to take on.”
“i do like spontaneity,” you nod, “but i am definitely more of a planner, i was happy we made plans days in advance. gave me time to mentally prepare,” a laugh leaves you. “you’re definitely a more passionate person than i initially thought.”
“there’s a lot more passion you haven’t seen yet,” he winks, then takes a sip from his wine.
you giggle, “yet?”
“yet,” he nods in confirmation, and there’s something about the way he’s saying something without saying it, making you read between the lines but also being so obvious. it’s his confidence, the way his jaw is set but he looks so soft, so inviting, it makes you want to lick the line from below his ear to his chin.
maybe san and ace were right – maybe you did need this, maybe you even wanted it. you couldn’t put your finger on why that sentence made your body run hot, a burning in your core that you haven’t felt in ages, a want for somebody else that wasn’t fully based on looks or a system full of a frat house’s jungle juice.
“when do i get to see it?” you ask, tilting your head, letting your tongue slip out to lick your lips. a smile graces his own, like he was hoping for that answer. you weren’t sure where your own confidence was coming from, maybe it was being so honest with him, a feeling of being connected to him through your own revelations – things you haven’t shared with anyone else.
“just say the word, baby,” his words are like velvet as they leave his lips, kissing your ears with such a sweetness you were willing to start begging. you’d never been called baby by anyone, never been so wound up so quickly by something so inexplicably sexual – you decided then and there that your first ever date was only going to end one way.
as if on cue, the song changed, cry to me by solomon burke playing through the record player, the soft cracks of the vinyl making you feel as if fate was in the dim living room, too.
“show me,” your words were barely above a whisper, the eye contact you were holding was so strong, so powerful it felt life changing when he moved across the couch.
he took your glass from your hand in silence, setting the pair on the coffee table, then his hands were on you. his right hand came under your jaw, his left in your hair and then he took a pause, giving you a second to burn the sight to memory, making sure you felt the intensity of his stare before he leaned forward, attaching his lips to yours.
his lips were as soft as they looked, plump and sweet, tasting like the wine you’d been drinking and notes of himself, raw and unfiltered. the kiss was deafening, your ears rang, you were putty in his hands from the moment his painted fingertips touched your skin. your hands went to his forearms, fingers latching onto his soft skin as his lips moved with yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth the second your jaw opened wide enough to let him in.
your lips were still touching as he mumbled, “taste just as sweet as i thought you would.” you could feel him smile into the kiss as you replied with a noise of satisfaction, somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
he moved to sit back on the couch, legs bending with his lips and hands still on you, forcing you to follow him backward. you lifted up on your knees and crawled on top of him, settling yourself into his lap. you ignored your skirt as it lifted, forcing yourself free of its confines, letting it rest just below your ass and high on your thighs as your hands moved to his neck, fingers twining into his hair, tangling in the roots.
a low groan left his lips when you offered a sharp tug to his dark locks, his hands moving from your head down to your waist, one slipping down to the plush of your ass. you gasped into the kiss, welcoming his tongue again, effectively silencing you while making your head spin.
you stayed like that for awhile, making out on his couch, hands exploring and touching and feeling and not quite taking the step to go farther. when he finally pulled away and let his head fall to the back of the couch you pouted, the voice in the back of your head telling you to follow him backward, to lick up the column of his neck he was showing off so proudly.
“i didn’t bring you here just to sleep with you, you know,” he admits, his expression turning serious, lowered eyes locked on yours through long lashes.
you nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe the remnants of your messy makeout from your bottom lip with low, cracking music from the record player still filling the space of his living room. you felt as if he was leaving the next step up to you, and you were met with two choices: to cut it off here, not go any further, maybe kiss a little more then go home, maybe even plan another date. or you could grind yourself against his lap, lick up his neck like you want to, and finish what you started.
“okay,” you blinked, not missing how his chest rose and fell, a need disguised by heavy breaths locked within his chest that he was trying not to show. he wanted this just as much as you did, the only choice was the latter— you weren’t used to the choice being left to you.
“what if i want to?” you asked, batting your lashes, a ghost of a smile sitting on your lips. his own smile grew, his fingers grabbed your hips, his hips bucking upward to push you toward him once more.
you kept him there, back against the couch, head tipping off the back of it as you acted out your fantasy, dragging your tongue from just above his collarbone to his jaw. he groaned again, a vibration against your tongue as your lips worked onto his neck, his fingers gripping your hips harder. he used his hands to move you, grinding you against himself until you could feel what you needed pressing up against your too clothed center. you gasped into his skin– it was hot, the feeling of being guided yet knowing you were the one holding the reins.
you didn’t need his hands anymore as your lips met his again, hips rocking against him all on your own as your fingers clutched onto his roots, tugging at them to bring him closer to you. it felt like a dance, one that you’d been performing for years, your bodies moving in sync with one another so perfectly you almost forgot you met each other a couple hours ago.
his fingers reached for your sweater, you broke the kiss just long enough for him to tug it over your head, your fingers immediately reaching for the hem of his own shirt. he unclasped your bra with one hand rendering your chests bare against one another, the heat between you only intensifying with his skin against yours. he leaned off the back of the couch and you moaned as his hands made their way up to your chest, thumbs dancing over your peaks with a feathered touch, your hips plummeting into his own.
“so perfect,” he breathed, attaching his lips to your chest instead and your head fell back with a sigh, back arching into his touch. “so sensitive.”
“always,” you mumbled, voice sounding completely dazed, yet you made the conscious decision to not share that your sensitivity was from your lack of experience. not that you haven’t slept with many people, you did go to a big school, but it was never like this. basically sober, so intimate, watchful eyes on your reactions and words spoken between kisses, never with a man anything like hwang hyunjin. you were used to drunken quickies with finance majors, a quick rub to your clit before they slipped inside, in the bathroom of a frat house or if you were so lucky, a bedroom on the top floor.
his hands fell to your thighs, fingers trailing over the nylon, thumbs rubbing circles on the inside as his pretty pink lips worked on you, your hands finding refuge in his roots again, scratching into his scalp.
“wanna move to my room?” he looked up to you and it snapped you out of your haze, nodding down to his chocolate covered eyes, and he stood. palms holding onto your ass, strong thighs hoisting you up, your legs wrapped around his tiny waist as he walked you through his living room, down a hallway and laid you onto the plush of his mattress.
his room’s lighting was just as dim as the living room, his windows already opened, a chill hitting the skin of your chest as your back hit the crimson duvet. he was quick to crawl on top of you, soothing the bumps that rose on your skin while straddling your legs with his own, fingers lifting your skirt up to your waist.
“this okay?” his eyes flickered to yours with a pause, thumbs hooked beneath the elastic of your tights. you nodded, lifting your hips so he could get them down your thighs, yet he still paused. “words, baby.”
your words were too quick, so eager it was almost laughable as you nearly cut him off, “yes, please.”
he took his time sliding the nylon fabric down your legs, taking your socks with them and throwing the ball of fabric to the floor. you were left in your panties and your skirt around your waist, the skirt he quickly discarded, your panties he left on.
“you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said under his breath, eyes raking down your body from your head to your knees. “i’m so lucky.”
your face matched the bedspread, now you were really in unknown territory. your arms went up to cover your cheeks and he was quick to grab your wrists, lips coming forward to kiss the inside of your left one.
“don’t get shy on me now, let me worship you,” your chest was starting to match your face. it was mortifying being left bare for him when he was still clothed from the waist down, but it somehow made everything feel so much hotter. no man has ever spoken to you like this before, taken the time to learn you.
you watched as his chiseled abdomen folded when he dipped his head down, lips pressing against the skin of your stomach, licking right below your chest. his hands let go of your wrists to slide down to your hips, thumbs hooking into the fabric of your pink lacy panties as his lips left a trail of spit down your waist. you fought every instinct to keep your hips planted on the mattress as his tongue slipped out of his lips to swipe below the hem, a gasp leaving your throat, your joints locking under his touch.
“wore these just for me?” he asked with a smile on his cheeks, cocking his head to the side playfully, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly.
“shut up,” you mumbled, legs automatically closing around his shoulders out of embarrassment, only forcing his face down further to escape the cage you created. he giggled then placed a quick kiss on your clothed clit through the thin fabric, making a mewl rip from your throat, your hips bucking upward.
“you’re so sensitive,” he marveled, eyes widening a bit like he had just discovered ground breaking information.
you were growing impatient, hips no longer staying glued to the bed out of sheer will, you needed more. you whined, muttering a “hyunjin please” and his grin told you enough.
he was quick to get back on his knees and slip your panties down your legs, throwing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes and he pushed you up the bed, kneeling in front of you. his eyes stayed glued to your center as he laid between your legs again, nearly drooling as he spoke, “such a perfect little pussy.”
he licked a fat stripe up your folds and your head shot back, eyes screwed tight as a disgusting moan escaped your lips. he smiled into your core, you could feel it amongst his flattened tongue that worked you from bottom up.
“tastes as good as she looks,” you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed anymore, hips bucking into his mouth, your hands flying to his hair. he groaned into you, lips sucking harder around your clit, listening to your moans for what you liked best.
he worked up to a rhythm, sucking on your clit and licking swirls with his tongue before you felt the painted tip of his finger poking at your entrance.
“yes, yes,” you repeated through a moan and he pushed in, his finger immediately curling upward and you saw stars. eyebrows furrowed and mouth hung open you were choking out moans, repeating words of affirmation to hyunjin that you hoped made sense.
as your stomach began to tighten, you couldn’t believe it. no one else had ever made you cum before, that’d always been something you could only do by yourself. excitement bubbled in your stomach as well as your impending release, words flying out of your mouth you couldn’t even decipher.
“please make me cum, please hyunjin i’m close,” your mouth was moving before your brain could think of the words, back arching off the bed and fingers yanking at his hair, you were praying he’d get you over the edge.
hyunjin kept his rhythm, curling his finger inside you and sucking at your clit until he felt you clench around him, your body locking up. your toes curled as your back arched up off the bed, thighs strangling his head between them, chin tucking into your chest as you cried. mumbles of i’m coming please don’t stop left your lips repeatedly as the dam in your core cracked open, you felt static in your veins and such a vicious shake to your body that seemed to last forever.
when your body went limp and you let go of his hair, hyunjin broke free, coming up for air with his tongue swiping at his swollen lips.
he crawled up your body, mouth finding yours quickly and you melted into the mattress, arms hooking around his neck. “so good at that,” you mumbled between kisses, “made me cum so hard.”
“that was the goal, baby,” he smiled into the kiss, his right arm flying down to his belt. you met him halfway, fingers unhooking the silver buckle while your lips never parted until you finally pulled it from its loops. you unzipped his corduroys and your hand reached above his briefs, palming him over the fabric.
he groaned, his cock rock hard against your skin, and you smiled. “i need you,” you said, lips still touching his, and the sound that left his mouth straight into yours was lethal.
he got his pants off in record time, reaching for a condom in his nightstand. he rolled it on with ease and slipped right back between your legs, your ankles in his hands. he kissed the inside of your ankle once, twice before he wore his serious expression again. “tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?”
“i will,” you nod, twitching with impatience before he lined himself up with your center. he pushed in slowly, your entrance slick with your orgasm didn’t give him much resistance. you moaned at the same time when he bottomed out, your eyes flying to the back of your head and his head fell forward.
hyunjin wasn’t thick but he was long, you could feel him so deep. it was a delicious stretch, a feeling he shared as he said, “feel so good around me baby, pussy’s so perfect.”
you moaned in response, hips moving to create some friction, begging him to move. he caught on, slowly pulling out before rocking back into you, letting go of your thighs to lean over your frame.
you felt small beneath him, as tall as he is he felt massive above you, inside you. your ankles hooked around his back, thighs pushing him inside you as your chests met.
“so fucking big,” you moaned out, nails clawing at his shoulders as he picked up the pace. his right hand moved to your jaw, holding it steady to press his forehead to yours before he connected his lips with yours again.
the kisses were nasty, more tongue and spit than anything but it was so hot. you moaned into each other’s mouths, every inch of your skin touching, everything about it was so intimate. it was all so new yet you welcomed every part of it, hookups in frat houses would now be a thing of the past — there was no better than this.
“so tight, baby fuck,” his eyes were screwed tight as he picked up the pace, his head falling into the corner of your neck that met your shoulder. you let out small whimpers with each of his thrusts, the curve to his cock hitting every spot you needed it to.
“you g’na cum for me?” you sounded so fucked out you didn’t recognize your own voice, so weak and desperate.
“need you to cum for me first, pretty girl,” he lifted his head, rocking his hips into you harder, bringing his arm between your bodies to rub your clit.
“fuck,” you gasped out and his lips were on yours again, still all spit and tongue, he swallowed your moans as you felt the tightness in your stomach form again.
“cum for me, baby, please, cum around my cock,” he moaned as you clenched around him, his thrusts beginning to lose their edge as you approached your peak.
“i’m coming,” your words were rushed out as your second orgasm finally crashed over you, the most lewd noises leaving hyunjin’s mouth and directly into yours. you looked up to him with stars in your eyes, his own clamped shut, wet hair sticking to his forehead. he was beautiful like this — you were in awe.
“good girl, fuck, gonna fill you up,” his thrusts were erratic, not as precise as before as he choked out, “gonna make this pussy mine.” your ankles tightened around his back as he fucked you through your orgasm and towards his own, your back arching up into his chest, nails clawing into his back.
“cum for me,” your head was somewhere else, “wanna feel you, hyunjin, let me feel you cum for me.”
his hips stilled inside you, head falling to the pocket of your shoulder again, a deep groan leaving his chest. a moan escaped you, rocking your hips against his, milking his orgasm for as long as you could.
you lay there for a moment, hyunjin still inside you, your ankles hooked around his back with no sound except heavy breaths and the low music playing from the living room. after a few minutes he rolled off of you, laying on his back for a moment before he got up to discard the condom. you felt cold again, the shiver from his open window creeping over your skin again, bumps once again rising to the surface.
when he hopped back onto the bed with that beautiful fucking smile of his, warmth enveloped you once more. he pecked you once before hovering over your face, brushing a piece of hair away from your cheeks.
“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” his eyes bored into yours with a seriousness he wanted you to feel. you smiled, cheeks flushing, arms wrapping over your chest.
your lips scrunched together in your smile, muttering a thank you while shying away from his eye contact and shifting your focus to his pillows.
you felt like a brand new person — one that goes on dates, one that has sex, real sex. one that communicates, one that doesn’t shy away from a real conversation, one that is now fully open to having a relationship.
by the end of the night when you and hyunjin were fighting for him to take you home (you wanted to go home, he wanted you to stay the night) you thought that maybe you wouldn’t have to go on any more dates. maybe hyunjin was it for you, art nerd and all, he could be the one to show off to your cousins— get that family ring around your finger.
when he kissed you goodbye in front of your front door you were convinced. optimistic as ever and excited, full of adrenaline, you skipped into your dark house and fled up to your room, smiling from the time you hopped in the shower until your head hit your pillow.
📱skz texts — feeling a little insecure about your body
| including. bang chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin
type. not requested
warnings. f!reader, talk of weight, being a curvy/plus size girlie
a/n. as a curvy girl who’s been having mixed feelings about her appearance her whole life, i kinda wrote this for myself😬 it can be hard to feel comfortable with our bodies when a lot of the content we see glorifies skinnier bodies, i myself got so many times weird or rude comments based on my appearance and it felt good to imagine scenarios where someone would be there to reassure me about my insecurities, i hope these will have the same effect on you guys and that you’ll like them mwah <3
felix comforts you after a break up (plus a little more)
tw: swearing (felix does say cunt btw), being called unlovable, needing reassurance, beating your ex’s ass, mentions of a crime scene,
an: heyyyy guys! i hope you all enjoy, finals are coming up for me so i’m going to try to finish out this little series before then (fingers crossed) anyways i hope you didn’t hate this!!
if you do like what you see and want to read more, you can find my masterlist here!
! This is an 18+ collection of works, minors do not interact.
! Please read responsibly, and remember that all works are fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
! Works should only be found here, and on my ao3 account of the same name. Reposting my work elsewhere is strictly prohibited.
! While I mostly write sweet + fluffy romances, I do like to dabble in dark concepts from time to time. Please heed warnings listed for my darker fics before engaging with them.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bang Chan
♡ If You Call Me; college au, strangers to friends to lovers, heavy angst, fluff, slow burn mutual pining, eventual smut, 43.4k
♡ One & Only; fluff, smut, valentine's day special, 4.6k
♡ Coy; fluff and smut with inexperienced chan, 7.7k
♡ Hopelessly Devoted To You; grease inspired 50s au, some angst and fluff, basically porn with plot, 11.2k
₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Seo Changbin
♡ I Hate To Admit; mafia au (in which changbin is chief of police, and reader is a mafia member), lots of angst, lots of fluff, multiple smut scenes, 47.4k
♡ Purple Hydrangeas; sunshine binnie x pessimistic reader, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, written for the @skzwritingcafe blossoming love prompt, 7.1k
♡ Misbehave; smut, sub!bin with mommy kink, 4k
♡ Slow Bloom; fluff and smut with inexperienced changbin, 8.5k
♡ Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out); fwb to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, 12k
♡ Evermore; beauty and the beast inspired fantasy au, monster/human relationship, light angst, fluff, eventual smut, 15.1k
♡ Suit Dance; office au, smut, rich & sexy ceo trope with sub!bin, 7.8k
₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hwang Hyunjin
♡ Crave; supernatural au, demon au, demon/human relationship, basically porn with plot, see post for additional warnings (there are several lol) 21.9k
₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Han Jisung
♡ White Lines And Red Lights; college au, best friends to lovers, idiots in love trope, pure fluff and mutual pining, eventual smut, written for the @skzwritingcafe summertime confessions prompt, 13.4k
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Changbin Series; Outlaw AU
♡ Part 1, Outlaw; cowboy/outlaw au, wild west au, dubcon, porn with plot, 4.9k
♡ Part 2, Sugar; cowboy/outlaw au, wild west au, references to past dubcon, porn with plot, 7.5k
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ot8 Series; Royalty AU
♡ Connected; chan x reader, princess x royal knight, arranged marriage (reader only), angst, fluff, forbidden love, childhood friends to lovers, eventual smut, 15.9k
♡ All About You; minho x reader, princess x royal knight, arranged marriage (reader only), angst, implied forbidden love, age gap, porn with plot, 7.5k
♡ After The Rain With You; changbin x reader, princess x commoner, fluff and angst, forbidden love, eventual smut, 13.8k
♡ Reverie; hyunjin x reader, prince x lord's daughter, love at first sight, fairy tale elements, fluff and angst, eventual smut, 18.9k
♡ Aurora; felix x reader, prince x duke's daughter, arranged marriage, light angst, fluff, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, eventual smut, 21.8k
♡ Piece of a Puzzle; seungmin x reader, princess x duke's son, lots of angst, fluff, love triangle feat. hyunjin, fake dating, lots of pining from seungmin, eventual smut, 20.4k
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ BinChan Series; Little Red Riding Hood AU
♡ Scent Of You; chan x reader x changbin, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot, dubcon, 7.8k
♡ Desire; chan x reader x changbin, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot, 10.9k
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Kinktober 2024
♡ Danse Macabre; serial killer!chan x reader, horror themes, dark romance, smut, for kinktober 2024, 3.9k
♡ Angel of Music; phantom!minho x opera singer!reader, horror themes, dark romance, smut, for kinktober 2024, 5.8k
♡ Moonstruck; changbin x ghost!reader, horror in a goofy + silly + fluffy sort of way, ghost / human relationship, smut, for kinktober 2024, 6.5k
♡ Revelation; vampire priest!jeongin x reader, horror themes, vampire / human relationship, smut, for kinktober 2024, 4k
♡ Pairing: Police Chief!Changbin x Plus Size Fem ("ex") Mafia Member!Reader
♡ Genre: mafia au, heavy angst and fluff, enemies to lovers kinda (it's not in the traditional sense lol)
♡ Word Count: 47.4k
♡ Summary: Y/N is an ex-mafia member whose specialty was romancing targets for information. No feelings involved, she did what she had to do and then moved on promptly. That life eventually became toxic and tiring for her so she quit, and decided to live a normal life, with a normal career and normal friends. However, after her older brother Chan's closest advisor is arrested in a sting operation, she's called in for one last job– her latest target being Seo Changbin, the divorced chief of Seoul’s police force who is returning to dating for the first time in 2 years. It should be an easy job; get the info she needs and then vanish as she always did. But the job becomes anything but easy when she realizes she’s falling in love with him.
♡ Warnings: past character abuse (not described), past parental death (not described), implied past SA (because consent should be enthusiastic), blood and injury, gun violence, adjusted ages (everyone is late 20s, early 30s), specficially y/n ~29 and changbin is ~30, changbin is divorced from a previous marriage, chan has an antagonistic role for the plot (i'm sorry!!)
♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): multiple smut scenes, soft dom changbin, lots of love bombs and check-ins, possibly too much exposition for a sex scene lol i am so sorry, petnames (love, honey, baby), gendered language such as "good girl," handjob, nipple play, clit play, fingering, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on birth control), overstimulation, creampie, over all very vanilla and soft, brief mentions of reader being heavy
♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03, where it is divided into chapters here! and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams. updated 08/30/24: formatting fixes, slight changes to scenes and dialogue for improved cohesion
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
Can we talk?
A mundane message, but one that can sow dread within you at a rapid pace. Those three little words on your phone screen mock you, the silent trepidation seeping into your pores, and rooting in your bones.
Some may look at this scenario and think you’re overdramatic; what’s so scary about your brother asking you to talk? Why would this seemingly innocent message fill you with such unease?
The answer to that is that those people are simply ignorant– blissfully so. To not understand why this would shake you meant that the life they lived up to this point was one of relative ease. Something terrible always followed a message like this. Always.
And coming from your brother? That was even more cause for alarm. He only texted you like this when he had something terrible and important to tell you, something that had the ability to shake the foundations of your existence, to send you reeling head first into a reality you don’t want to face.
You stare at your screen for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it’s as little as a minute (according to the timestamp on your phone, at least.) Chan sent a short followup message that simply said, “Come by the house.”
The house. A place you haven’t returned to in 6 months. You swallow in apprehension as you type a response. Whatever he has to say has to be serious, and your mind races with possibilities.
I’m on my way.
Your hands tremble as you approach your childhood home, taking slow measured steps through the entrance and subsequent halls. It’d been a long time since you last lived in the house, but until recently, you had still regularly visited it. Your brother, Chan, still lived here, along with various others he’d grown close to over the years, the people he considered his most trusted confidants.
You didn’t hate your brother by any means, nor any of the other people you’d become friends with over the span of your life, but to live the mafia lifestyle was exhausting to say the least. And not just physically like most people might jump to, but emotionally.
To be in fear for your life and the lives of your closest friends and loved ones, the stability of your home and finances, the balancing act between the life you lead in the day and the one you lead at night– all of it was so utterly exhausting.
And you admired your brother’s perseverance, his resolve to carry on where your parents left off, but this wasn’t a life you wanted to lead anymore. Chan understood when you told him, and he didn’t fault you when you expressed how taxing this life was on your health, so you left the ‘official’ rankings of the family with his blessing.
For your sake, he minimized the contact the two of you shared in the last few months, but he was never going to entirely abandon his baby sister. He still checked in on you on important dates, made sure you were making enough money to live well, and that you had a job that made you happy with a fulfilling social life.
All in all, he was the perfect older brother. He had a responsibility, and he carried it well, while ensuring the comfort of you, the baby sister who found it too stressful and overwhelming to continue to be a part of. But just because you no longer saw violence happen, it doesn’t mean it stopped.
Sure, not regularly seeing your brother hurt, or hearing about losses and close calls, was beneficial to your mental health, but it still happened all the time. You just entered a space of blissful ignorance, of avoidance. If you didn’t see it, if you didn’t hear it, the problem didn’t exist anymore, simple as that.
And obviously that will never be true; terrible things will always happen regardless of who is or isn’t there to bear witness to them. But you could pretend. You could go to your monotonous office job like a regular person, chat about the mundane things like the weather and what your coworkers' children are getting up to these days.
You could have dinner on the couch while you facetime your best friend, gossiping about local drama or what new project their partner started while you have some random video playing as background noise. You could take a relaxing soak in the tub, listening to your new favorite song on repeat before you slip into your comfiest pair of pajamas and go to bed.
And you could pretend. Everything was perfectly fine, your brother was running things well, there were no problems and no losses. Your past was behind you, your family and friends were well, and you could live a normal life without any repercussions or consequences coming back to haunt you. A naive dream that someday reality would cruelly remind you couldn't happen.
“Noona, you’re here!” Felix smiles as you make your approach to your brother's office, a bright one that would cause your heart to flutter if you weren’t so riddled with anxiety. Felix was your previous bodyguard while you were still living within the walls of your childhood home.
Eventually, when you moved locations for various jobs assigned to you, he’d take point close by, watching from a careful distance in case something happened and he needed to protect you. He was also the first to pick up on your desire to leave, clearly being able to see the ripple effect the danger that this life held had on you.
He broached the subject carefully, and gave you a soft smile when you admitted that his observations were correct. He supported you and gave you helpful advice, encouraging you to be honest with Chan and do what makes you happy.
If you were being honest, Felix was one of the people you missed the most. You spent a lot of time with him over the years, and you could easily imagine what a future with him would be like if he had been willing to leave with you.
It broke your heart to realize he'd never leave it all behind, but you accepted it for what it was, and thanked him for his support for you up until the day you left. You still talked sometimes, and you often wondered what he does now that he's no longer your bodyguard; but he felt it best to give you distance while you transition into your new life.
“Hi Lixie,” you do your best to return his smile despite the anxiety stuck in your chest. "I've missed you," he says after giving you a brisk hug, "have you been well?"
"My job is a little boring sometimes to be honest, but I like it,” you answer. You can tell the conversation will move into awkward small talk territory, so you qucikly shift the topic to the reason you're here. “Do you know what Chan wants to talk to me about?”
Felix’s smile shifts to a small frown as he nods his head tentatively. “I have an idea, yes,” he answers after a pause. Before you can ask him what he knows, your brother’s door swings open.
To your relief, he doesn’t look any different than he did when you last saw him. That had to mean whatever he was going to tell you couldn't be as bad as your head is making it out to be, right? “Y/N, come in!” Chan ushers you towards him, beckoning you into the room. You glance at Felix, who offers you a sympathetic smile, before you fully enter the office.
You take a seat across from his desk, hands wringing the bottom of your shirt as your eyes dart to various points in the room, trying to distract your apprehensive mind by observing any potential changes. A new painting? More books? A change in desk chair? Anything, no matter how minute, is enough of a distraction at this point.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” he says as he takes his seat across from you, his expression serious. “I have a job I’d like you to do.” It was typical of Chan to cut to the chase, never one to waste time with pleasantries if there was something serious to discuss, but despite expecting this, you were wholly unprepared to hear the words that actually came out of his mouth.
“Chan, you know I left this behind for a reason, I– I can't..” you start, searching his expression for answers. Why would he ask you to come back to this? You thought he understood from your discussion prior to leaving that you’d never put yourself through the hurt again. You just couldn’t bear it anymore.
"I know it's a lot to ask but it's important, and there's no one I trust more than you to get it done. I can't ask anyone but you to do this," Chan responds, his pleading tone conveying how desperate he is right now.
You frown, knowing very well that there was only ever one type of job Chan assigned you to, and what he would be expecting from you. “I.. I can't do this again,” you manage to say, your balled up hands trembling in your lap, your tone pleading with him to understand.
Chan sighs, a sadness overtaking his features that you haven’t seen in years. “I understand, I really do, but..” He looks away, jaw clenched and expression pained. Your mind repeats his words to you; there’s no one else I trust, no one else I can ask.
Was his situation really so grave that he had no choice but to reach out for your help? And did you really have it in you to deny your brother of help when he was looking at you with such downtrodden eyes?
You sigh as you resolve yourself to hear him out at least; if this was really that important to him, you couldn’t turn him down without at least hearing him out. You loved him after all, and despite any pain you might face, you wanted to help him if you could. “Who is it?” you ask finally, ignoring the way your nerves scream in protest.
“Seo Changbin, chief of Seoul police.” Your brows furrow at his response, mouth slightly agape in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious– and yet his stern expression told you that he was.
“That’s impossible, there’s no way I can do that!” you exclaim, rising to your feet quickly. Sure, you were no stranger to seducing men for your family’s advantage, but it was usually petty criminals and rivaling bosses, not a police officer. And an incredibly powerful police officer at that!
"Minho was arrested," Chan says as he rises to his feet as well, hoping the declaration is enough to stop you from leaving. You freeze, heart sinking to your stomach.
“..What? How?” you ask as you slowly sink back in your seat, listening intently as Chan shared the events of the last few months with you.
3 months ago, a deal gone wrong led to the arrest of your brother’s second in command and most trusted friend. Things have been tense and strained between members since then, but tensions were at their worst with Chan, who suspected there was a rat among them who fed information to a third party.
The location was well guarded and scoped out well before the meeting between your brother and another leader he was striking a deal with was to take place, which lead him to one conclusion– someone had to have leaked it.
The plan was to join teams, effectively ending the rivalry and expanding territory in the process. The rival leader would release their hold on southern Seoul, with the promise that Chan in turn gave him a high ranking position and integrated his boys into the appropriate ranks.
Everything seemed to be going well at first, with Chan and Minho proceeding with negotiations with little conflict. However, an unanticipated raid on their meeting location caused the men to break out into chaos. Some fought, others ran while throwing shots, but Minho got caught in the crossfire while ensuring that Chan got out of the situation intact.
In the end, no deal was made, trust broken between the two groups as they blamed one another, and Chan’s most trusted ally was behind bars with nothing to show for his efforts. Your brother didn’t want to believe that someone in your group had spilled secrets and allowed officers to raid their meeting, but he couldn’t disregard the possibility.
In their world, anything was possible, and he couldn’t have blind faith in his team despite how bad he wanted to trust them. So with that in mind, the last few months were dedicated to keeping a watchful eye on his lackeys, looking for any slip ups or deviations in routine.
“You need to find out what the police have on him, on us, so we can build a defense for Minho,” Chan continues, the anger and grief on his face clear, “Or at the very least, discover who our rat is. Even if it's not someone on our side, I don’t plan on letting whoever sold us out walk away. They’ll regret ever betraying us, or their brothers.”
Chan’s expression is one of unbridled rage, and now you understand why. A betrayal of this magnitude is something your brother could never forgive, no matter how kind of a leader he is, no matter which affliation to other families the rat held.
And he wasn’t just betrayed, but his brother in arms was gone now too. Wherever Chan was, Minho was never far behind, and you honestly couldn't remember a time in your life where you didn’t see the two of them together.
Minho was just as much a brother to you as Chan, having spent years of your life with the both of them by your side. You can’t imagine the amount of grief your brother has been shouldering on his own up until now.
“How do I get close to him?” you finally question with a frown. You don’t doubt that Chan has a plan; he never sent you into a situation unprepared, but you’re still perplexed by the idea.
This wasn’t the usual low hanging fruit you were tasked with getting close to, and even when set to romance rivaling bosses, you knew you had Chan and Felix’s protection if things went south. But here, there was no protection. If this Seo Changbin guy figured you out, you’d all be nailed without hesitation.
“Jeongin. I planted him on the force after Minho’s arrest– he’s your in.” Chan answers easily, though the pain in his voice at the mention of Minho doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He prepared carefully when he realized he would need your help, not allowing for any possible error in his preparations.
Chan didn’t want to throw you into a situation you weren’t capable of handling. Yes, he was desperate to find out where they might've went wrong, but patience was key; and he couldn’t throw his sister in the line of danger over just anything. You were not only a valuable asset to him, but also his only family left, and he wouldn’t lose you too over a half baked plot made in desperation.
So with that in mind, he moved slowly and carefully, keeping a watchful eye on those around him while planting trusted members in key locations. And Yang Jeongin was one of those trusted members, a childhood friend who was fiercely loyal and dedicated to the family as he also grew up in this lifestyle.
He had proved his loyalty many times over in Chan’s eyes, so he gave Jeongin the task to infiltrate the force and learn anything he could about what happened on that fateful night months ago. He was younger than you and Felix, and you imagined it'd be easy for him to pass as a fresh recruit eager to work with his cute, boyish smile.
Han Jisung, another trusted member of the group, easily got all the necessary documents together to allow Jeongin onto the force. Jisung’s talent for forgery and information gathering was greatly appreciated, often allowing you and others into spaces they normally would not be allowed in.
Chan informs you that while Jeongin is too low rank on the force to get the details they really want, he has been able to uncover other useful information that they can use to their advantage– namely, information on police chief Seo Changbin. The chief is back on the dating field for the first time since his divorce finalized a few years back, which is where you come in.
Jeongin often joined his “colleagues” for drinks after Friday shifts in the hopes that one of them would spill something in their inebriated state. And while Changbin didn’t spill anything work related that Jeongin didn't already know, he did share some personal details, which included the progression his love life (or lack thereof.)
“Is he really going to go on a blind date with someone his subordinate hooks him up with?” you ask, hesitancy clear in your voice. Chan understands the hesitation however and doesn’t hold the way you’re questioning him against you; he knows how far-fetched this all sounds.
“He’s already agreed to it,” Chan answers and this is where it all clicks for you. Of course he already agreed to it– Chan wouldn’t be giving you this task otherwise.
You sigh as you decide to commit to the job, still uneasy but unable to tell your brother “no” when he’s placing so much faith in you. All you can do now is hope that things proceed smoothly and that Seo Changbin isn’t as much of an asshole as some of the other men you’ve had the displeasure of beguiling into spilling their most closely held secrets.
“This is all the intel Jeongin has gotten on him, along with some things Jisung got through some digging. Read it over thoroughly and prepare for Friday night,” Chan says as he hands you a rather sparse manila folder.
Normally you had much more information to work with, but you suppose it makes sense that there isn’t much to dig up about him. You imagine that he’s either some self righteous do-gooder with not a single speck on his perfect record, or a corrupt officer who's incredibly good at covering up his messes.
You aren’t sure which you prefer either way, but no matter the outcome, you have to see it through. So you simply step out of Chan’s office, folder in hand as you head home to prepare.
As you expected by how little the folder held, you didn’t actually learn all that much about who Changbin is as a person. On Jisung's report was the typical boring information– which high school he graduated from, and how long he’s been on the police force for instance. There wasn’t much you could put to use.
A medal won here, a promotion there, but nothing that would help you woo the man. On Jeongin’s end, he reported mostly on things he heard come out of Changbin’s mouth while he was drinking, or idle gossip from other colleagues.
You knew Changbin has been divorced for over 2 years now, and you knew that he wanted to be in a relationship again, but there wasn’t much else for Jeongin to tell you.
Changbin seemed to be well guarded on all fronts, which you suppose made sense given his career. If the chief of police in a city as large and populated as Seoul was flippant with his mouth, you could only imagine what kind of trouble it would cause. It was easy to imagine that he held his private life close to his chest.
You knew from firsthand experience that knowing personal details and secrets about a person can ruin them, and someone as influential as Changbin having his private life on display would surely be a disaster. Still, you found it incredible that even while intoxicated, he didn’t reveal too much about himself.
Nothing critical or of importance, just minor or vague passing comments that anyone could infer. Anyone could guess that a divorced man would put himself back out there eventually– it was only a matter of time, and thus not a groundbreaking confession.
So, the only things you knew about him were either insignificant drunken confessions, speculation based on rumor, or observations made by Jeongin from working under him from the past 2 and a half months; all things that don't necessarily aid you in any way.
He noted that Changbin had a routine, that he stuck to a specific diet to maintain his health and body, and that he was very prompt and careful with everything he did. Normally, you used the information gathered on a target to plan your approach. If you could appeal to their tastes, you were much more likely to get them to like you and want to pursue you, which made your job all the more easy.
But Changbin was basically a mystery to you; no prominent social media accounts to scour for likes and dislikes, opinions or preferences that you could play into, nor any substantial records to pour though to learn about him.
You were basically going in blind, which made you all the more nervous to be in front of him this afternoon. You didn’t have a crutch to lean on, and all you could really do was hope that whatever you did tonight was enough to make Changbin want to keep seeing you.
You had also gone over your story with Chan and Jeongin a couple times to ingrain it in your memory and make sure there were no mistakes. The story was mostly truthful, as the best lies have some truth to them, but there were obviously some things that had to be changed about the relationship you have.
Jeongin was like a little brother to you, which was true, and you had a good relationship with his mother, which was also true. What wasn’t true however, was the reason behind those facts. Your story was that your mothers were close friends, which led to you having a big part in Jeongin’s life– and again, that was partially true. The lie came from why they were close friends.
The mafia life wasn’t some new endeavor that your brother decided to pursue while you followed– he was born into it, with your father being the previous head of the family; and that was similarly true for Jeongin. His dedication to Chan, and you by proxy, was instilled in him by his father, in the same way your own father instilled the values of the family into you and Chan.
So yes, your families were close, but not for the reasons your cover story will lead Changbin to believe. Your fathers worked together, which meant your mothers became close friends; and when Jeongin turned 18 he took over where his father had left off without hesitation.
It was a bittersweet feeling when Jeongin joined your ranks officially. He wasn't obligated to continue his father’s path like you and Chan, which gave him the chance to leave this all behind if he wanted to. You truly did view the boy like your own little brother, and you knew accepting this life meant putting himself in harm's way– but you also understood that he was old enough to make his own choices.
And it would be a lie to say his dedication and loyalty was unappreciated by you or your brother. You firmly believed that if Minho wasn't so close in age to Chan, Jeongin would be second in command instead. It had really only come down to the fact that Minho was older with more real world experience that led to him being Chan’s direct subordinate.
You play your story over and over again in your head as you prepare for your date. A slip up could prove devastating, so you were putting extra care into making sure you would execute everything flawlessly.
The location of your date was a fairly nice restaurant (at least you assumed it was based on your google search), so you planned your outfit based on that. It was more on the formal side, but not so much that it called for you to pull your most expensive pieces out of the closet, so you chose a dress on the simpler side.
Besides, you figured showing up in something extravagant would be jarring; unlike when you're going after low level thugs, flashing wealth isn't necessary here. Changbin is expecting a version of you close in line to who you truly are now– that being a nice girl who works an office job for a living.
Keeping in line with that train of thought, you also chose more subtle, natural looking makeup, and kept a more relaxed hair style. It’d been a while since you went on a date with a more natural style, but it was refreshing to not have to pull out all the stops.
Normally, you had to play into a persona, or be an exaggerated version of yourself, but Changbin was expecting someone average. Just a nice girl with a modest job– nothing crazy, and nothing for you to play into.
You were definitely still anxious about not having something tangible to latch on to, but hopefully being more on the truthful, down to earth side would appeal to him. After all, no matter what caricature of him you made up in your mind, he was likely the most normal person you’d ever been assigned to.
The drive to your destination was as uneventful as it could be, spent mostly with you internally going over everything one last time, and occasionally checking how you looked at red lights. You arrived a bit early, which you hoped would reflect positively on you given that Jeongin said that Changbin was a prompt person (and it was really one of the only things you had to go on.)
You were probably standing in front of the building for less than a minute or so before you heard a voice from the left. “Excuse me, ma'am– are you Y/N?” the voice asks, and you turn quickly to look at the man for the first time. His voice is less gruff than you were expecting; it was actually quite light, warm, and uniquely inviting.
He was also much more broad than you’d anticipated, clearly the result of years of dedicated training and diligence; the few pictures you saw of him didn't do him enough justice. You can immediately understand why his subordinates, and those unlucky enough to be arrested by him would find him intimidating, but his gaze is surprisingly jovial.
The contrast isn’t by any means unpleasant, but it is foreign to you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone so outwardly rough-looking have such a cheery disposition. “You’re Changbin then?” you smile, his own brightness helping to put you more at ease, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too! You havent been waiting long have you?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head, assuring him you’ve only been here for a few minutes at most. He ushers you to follow him, making small talk as you walk inside together.
You’re guided to your seats promptly, courtesy of his reservation, and he pulls your chair out for you. You sit with a smile; when was the last time you went on a date with someone chivalrous? You honestly couldn’t remember; most men in your life have been far from gentlemanly.
Contrary to what you would expect, conversation flowed naturally– though you would give the credit for that to Changbin. He was very.. natural. He had an air of ease and confidence, but not in the sort of arrogant way you would find distasteful. If he was at all nervous it didn’t show, he wasn’t hesitant or awkward with any of his words.
He had the kind of confidence that comes with age and life experience, sure of himself but not overly serious, as well as the ability to poke fun at himself if the moment called for it. He was also much more open than you had anticipated, freely sharing details of himself, even if the story was something someone would consider embarrassing.
An old mess up? Something stupid he did at his 21st birthday party? A silly mistake when he was still in the officer's academy? All of it was divulged freely, giggling at himself as he shared his stories with you. It surprised you just how himself he was.
You expected someone secretive and closed off, or someone serious to a fault with no fun to be found. Neither extreme you made up in your head fit him; and maybe he was just private and stern in work settings, while his real self was mirthful and easy going.
You shared things about yourself as well, trying to maintain the carefree vibe he has created for your dinner together. Simple things mostly, majority of which are completely true minus the tweaking of some details to not give away anything you shouldn’t.
Memories of your childhood, what working in an office is like, and embarrassing stories of Jeongin for him to keep in his back pocket until he can bring them up at an opportune time. Time passes much quicker than you thought it would, with Changbin already taking out his card to pay the bill.
“I could pay for myself,” you say with a slight pout, though you truthfully like that he intends to pay for you; truly, he's a gentleman.
“I can’t let a pretty girl pay for her meal on a first date! It just isn’t right!” Changbin exclaims, and you can’t help but smile at his reaction. Whether or not his gentlemanly behavior is an act or not remains to be seen, but the romantic lying deep within you can’t help but enjoy it.
“How about I pay next time then? To keep it fair,” you say with a smile that Changbin returns without hesitation. “So there’s a next time?” he asks, delight written across his features.
“Of course, as long as that’s okay with you,” you say and he nods eagerly, not at all hiding his excitement. He’s a more of an open book than you were expecting, but you like it; it makes you wonder how those who work with him would feel if they could see their superior right now– all smiles and laughter, no hint of the intimidating and private man they normally see at the station.
You find the duality appealing. Of course, there’s always the chance that he’s doing the same thing you usually do; playing up his personality, or exaggerating to make you like him more– if that is the case he definitely succeeded. You don’t think you’ve ever been so genuinely entranced by someone since high school; and it’ll certainly make your task more pleasant if you don’t hate the person you’re dealing with.
You exchange numbers as you begin to walk away from the table, and he keeps a respectful distance away from you; appropriate for a first date. He continues to chat with you about what your “next time” can entail as you approach the doors to leave the restaurant, and you like that he’s forward without being overbearing.
He says clearly what he wants and hopes for, and though you were the first to suggest a second date, you get the impression that he wouldn't have been bitter or resentful if this was where your time together ended. He's so honest, and respectful– completely unlike other men you've dealt with.
“Shall I walk you to your car?” Changbin asks as you step outside together. The sun has set during your time spent chatting and eating, but it’s not terribly dark out– the street lamps and other business offer more than enough illumination.
“No, that’s okay. I parked nearby, so it won’t take me long to get to it,” you answer. You didn’t sense any ulterior motives from Changbin, but felt it best to err on the side of caution, and not let a man you just met see the kind of car you drive. He nods understandingly, offering one last smile and telling you to be safe before he bids his goodbye to you.
You find yourself smiling the entire drive back to your apartment, and it remains even as you undress and clean yourself up. You look at your phone when you leave the shower, and the smile grows when you realize you have a text from Changbin already, telling you he got home safe and that he had a great time with you. You flop on your bed with your phone in hand, giddy as you type your own reply.
What you feel now is a kind of feeling you don’t recognize at first; the kind you’d feel when you have your first crush in elementary school, you think. The kind that makes you want to kick your feet as you lie under the blankets, or bury your head in the pillow and squeal.
And that’s when realization hits you; do you actually like him? Genuinely, truly like him?
You frown as you stare up at the ceiling. It has to just be puppy love– there’s no way you genuinely like him after just meeting him once, right? On one hand, if you do like Changbin, that makes your task easier. You’d enjoy being around him, wouldn’t dread your future interactions, and would likely have a lot of fun most days. But on the other hand, wouldn’t it make things more complicated in the long run?
Well, there’s no use worrying about it right now– at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Nothing has even seriously happened yet to confirm that the two of you will be a couple, and stressing yourself out over all the possibilities is something you recognize will only do more harm than good at the moment. It’d be better to make a plan when you’re more sure of where things are going instead of trying to plan for every outcome now.
You sigh, tossing your phone on the nightstand as you make a conscious choice to just go to sleep. Whatever your feelings are, you’ll have plenty of time to figure things out later. For now, all you can really do is keep on the task at hand– and currently, that task is going on a 2nd date with Seo Changbin.
“What’s got you smiling so hard?” your coworker says from your left, his sudden voice making you nearly jump out of your skin. “Seungmin!” you exclaim, hand clutching your chest as you swivel in your seat to face him. “You scared the life out of me!”
Seungmin laughs in response, clearly not at all concerned over the fact that he almost sent you to an early grave. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think you were that focused on your phone,” he says with an amused smile. Your face flushes as you realize that yes, you were incredibly focused on your phone, and yes, you were smiling very hard.
And Seungmin, being the menace of a friend that he is, couldn’t let it go unannounced. “Let me guess,” he says as rolls his chair over to your desk, crossing his legs and folding his hands together in a dramatic fashion as he leans forward, “you’re texting Mr. Blind Date?”
“I’ve told you a million times, his name is Changbin,” you say as you push his chair away from your desk. He laughs again before rolling his way back over to you. It’s evident that he is unphased by your push, and instead finds it extremely funny.
“What’s got you so hostile? All I did was ask a simple question!” He puts his hands up in a faux surrender gesture, though the amused smirk doesn’t leave his face. You wouldn’t say you were embarrassed per se, but… Well, maybe you were.
It’d been a long time since you were genuinely infatuated by someone like this, and being caught with hearts in your eyes in a work environment wasn’t the greatest feeling. Apart from that, this was someone you were supposed to pretend to like, not actually like. But, at least if anyone was going to catch you in this state, it was your perfectly oblivious friend.
“Yeah, well.. I really like him, I guess,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that Seungmin clearly saw the depth of your infatuation.
“Oh, I really like him, I guess,” he mocks, laughing when you shoot him an ‘I’ll kill you’ look. “You have your next date planned yet?” he asks next, putting his joking aside to ask sincerely.
Seungmin had quickly become a great friend to you when you were accepted to the office, and while you definitely didn’t confess every detail of what your life was like before being hired here, you did allude to the fact that your past relationships were less than great. He could see the genuine pain in your eyes whenever someone else in the cubicle block brought up their perfect relationships and idyllic families.
So, despite the teasing, he did genuinely care. He wanted you to be happy, and he was silently hoping that this Changbin person you met on your blind date would be the one to bring you that happiness. Of course, he didn’t know the ulterior motives behind said blind date, or about any of the previous mafia ties that led you here– though, technically those ties are no longer ‘previous.’
“We’re gonna meet up again tomorrow. There’s an art exhibit he wants to go to,” you answer and Seungmin lets out a little ‘oooo~’ which you roll your eyes at.
“So he’s an arts guy then?” he asks and you shake your head. “Not really, but his best friend's works are gonna be on display, and he wants to support him. He asked me if I wanted to be his plus one.”
“Oh, ‘plus one~’, sounds fancy,” Seungmin teases, which you scoff at. “It’s nothing extravagant, Min, don’t be dramatic.” You push his shoulder, which he then clutches with a small gasp as if you actually hurt him. The rest of your coworkers shuffle into the room not long after, signaling that break time is officially over and it’s time to get back to work.
The rest of the work day is nothing short of a hectic, stress induced mess following your break time antics. You and Seungmin are practically buried in work due to multiple people calling off after catching a cold.
All the catch up work to make deadlines is running you ragged, but the thought of having a fun day out after this is all over is keeping you going. That, and Changbin sending you cute texts of encouragement every time you complain to him about the workload.
You breathe a sigh of relief when the backlog is finally finished, slumping in your chair and letting yourself roll away from the desk. It’s way past the time you’d usually leave for the day, but at least you’re being well compensated for the work; it was tiring, but the fat check will make it all worth it in the end. Maybe you’ll finally be able to splurge on some new clothes like you’ve been wanting to.
Seungmin finishes his own work just moments later and throws his hands in the air with an exclamation, “Hell is over!” You laugh as you pull yourself back up to prepare yourself to go home. “I’m so ready to crash after this. I think I’m gonna collapse as soon as I step in the house," he says as he shuts down his work computer.
“Don’t crash before you have dinner at least,” you say and Seungmin groans, as if doing anything other than immediately going to sleep will ruin him. “I can eat when I wake up! Getting my beauty sleep is more important.”
“Yeah, those dark circles are getting a bit egregious,” you joke and Seungmin shoots a glare at you before he stands. The pair of you continue to bicker and laugh before you say your goodbyes, and Seungmin makes sure you promise to give him all the details of your second date when you return on Monday.
It’s painfully obvious that you’re sick when you wake up the next morning; sore throat, cough, fatigue, and all the works. It’s also painfully obvious where you got your cold from, given all the office absentees.
The sickness that ran rampant through your coworkers was bound to catch up to you eventually, you suppose. But did it have to be today of all days?
Canceling on Changbin made you feel awful; much more than you expected it to. You always felt bad when you had to cancel plans of course, it was never a happy thing to do, but the sadness you felt now was unmatched by any time before it.
You tell yourself it’s because you have a lot riding on this date, because your brother needs you to see this through and you can’t let anything deter Changbin from wanting to be with you, but you know deep down that’s not the truth.
The truth is that you were actually looking forward to seeing him. That you liked him. That you wanted to hold his hand as you walked through the gallery together, to share your thoughts over a nice dinner, to maybe end the night with a kiss or two. And God, did the fact that you actually like him make you feel stupid.
What kind of idiot actually starts to like the person they are supposed to dupe in the end? Did leaving for half a year revert you back to an amateur? Did you forget all of your previous bad experiences with other men you had to do this with?
When you walked away, you told yourself you wouldn’t be in a relationship again for a long time, sincere or otherwise. Being with awful men jaded you, and the rare times you did feel a genuine connection, the nature of your life and family ruined it.
There was a point in your life that you started to believe you didn’t deserve anything good. Everyone you met either treated you like shit, or resented the reality of what being with you entailed. Nothing you wanted was ever worth the effort or the risk for them.
With every subsequent forced proximity with a man you loathed, with every spark of love that faded because of who you are and what your family does, you withered. People will compare being adolescent to a bud, likening the growth and transition into adult life to that of a flower's first bloom. But you always felt like your bloom never came; Mother Nature skipped over you, deeming you unworthy, leaving you to rot before you ever had a chance for something more.
While other people were vibrant and colorful, you were dull and withered. The garden that was your life was barren and devoid of nutrients, and always would be. At least, that’s how you felt until fairly recently. It took time for you to realize you were deserving of good things, and that a change of environment would help you turn your life into the kind that you would be happy to live.
Even when you started to feel good about life, and about yourself again, you figured it would still be a while before you ever began to crave the presence of a significant other again. You’d hurt and been hurt too many times, seen the worst in countless people, saw the depths of cruelty and hatred that someone could have. And good people existed, of course they did, but your world view was tainted by the ceaseless callousness you were confronted with.
How could you believe that kind people were out there when you often saw the opposite? The depravity, selfishness, and heartless disregard for anyone but themselves? The fact that you had good people in your life began to feel like a fluke, your handful of close family members and friends like small faint glimmers of light in a sea of black.
But even when you were blind to it, even when your vision was clouded by the suffering you experienced, good people existed. Selfless people, who would give the last of what they had to help someone else. Kind people, who helped someone in need without asking for anything in return. Happy people, whose only goal was to make the world a bit brighter than it was yesterday, with one small kindness at a time.
Changbin was one of those people. And maybe it was naive to believe that so soon, to have faith that he was different from the other men you’ve known, but you couldn’t help it. He just radiated sincerity, exuded warmth, emanated positivity.
Talking with him brought you back to the feeling of having a grade school crush; it was like he woke up a part of you that had been sleeping for years. A part of you that wanted a love like in romance movies, where everything is filled with cheesy quotes of adoration and over dramatic declarations of love. Flourishes of passion, moments where all you can think about is seeing him again, where the smallest of gestures makes your heart burst with excitement.
You’ve only known him a short time, but you felt so utterly infatuated. Every time you spoke to each other, it felt like being on a cloud– soft and inviting, warm and bright. He was like a blanket fresh out of the dryer, offering you unmatched comfort and peace. The weeks leading up to this 2nd date where you spent hours texting, talking on the phone or facetiming was almost euphoric.
And you suppose that’s another reason missing out on today is that much more devastating to you. Changbin became swamped with work shortly following your first date, promising that the first free weekend he’d got he’d take you on that date he promised.
Then, when things were finally calming down for him, you ended up being buried under the workload of your sick coworkers. And finally, finally, your patience would've been rewarded with today’s date.
Would it be overdramatic to kick and scream? Maybe, but it’s all you wanted to do. And maybe tell God, or whatever higher power exists, to please let Changbin not hate you for canceling today.
Of course, he was very understanding, even offering to drive over to you and pick up anything you might need. You turned him down, telling him to go to the exhibit and enjoy it, and that you’d just get some more sleep after you took some medicine.
It was late in the afternoon when you woke up from your cough medicine induced coma, the sun just barely still on the horizon. You knew you really should get some food in you, but the prospect of walking around your kitchen and cooking something sounded extremely daunting.
You wondered if it was too late to take Changbin up on his offer? Having someone bring you some more medicine and something to eat would be a godsend. And besides that, you just want to see him.
You unlock your phone and immediately smile upon seeing your texts; Changbin knew you were getting your rest of course, but he still sent updates, including pictures of the art pieces and how he tried his best to interpret their meaning despite not really understanding what he was looking at most times.
His friends works were the most praised by him of course, and his enthused “This one is by Hyunjin!! My best friend is so talented!!” was endearing to read.
You decide to send a simple text, saying you just woke up and were hoping his offer to come by still stands if it’s not any trouble. To your surprise, a facetime request comes through moments later, and you scramble to settle into a presentable position (not that it really matters given how sick you are.)
“Y/N~” he coos when you finally answer, a small pout forming on his features when he sees your tired eyes and red nose. Changbin is sitting in his car, phone propped up on the dash as he sits in what you assumed to be the driveway of his home.
His hair is damp and his clothes loose and comfortable, giving away that he just recently took a shower and was going to start settling in for the night before you texted him. Did he rush to his car after he got your text? You suspect he did.
And you’re not sure if it’s the damp look, or the way the light of the setting sun illuminates his skin that makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst, but he’s handsome. So devastatingly handsome that you almost want to hide your sick face away.
Changbin asks all sorts of questions during your call, like what medicines you took, what you need restocked, what you want to eat and from where. Every time you offer to pay him back, he shuts you down, always reminding you that he wants to do this for you.
He hangs up when he starts to drive so he won't be distracted, and you decide to relocate to your living room. You bring your favorite blanket and an extra pillow with you, settling in on the sofa while turning the tv to some random show you don’t intend on paying much attention to– you just want the noise.
It’s around an hour later when Changbin calls again to let you know he’s at your apartment. You were surprised he took so long, and when you open the door for him it’s easy to see why. His hands are full of bags all from the same store, apart from your food order.
“Changbin, you– what is all this?” you ask, nearly stunned. He shuffles his way inside, placing everything carefully down your kitchen counters as your front door closes behind him.
“Well, I know you only needed a couple things but..” he says as he starts to separate the bags, placing your food off to the side as he digs through them, showing you the contents one by one. “This is the medicine you asked for. And I got you this anti-drowsy version for the daytime. Oh, and this is vitamin c, your immune system will need it! This is tea for your throat, and this is-”
You nod along to what he’s saying, but your brain has long since stopped processing the information. You're stuck on the fact that he even bought all of this for you, that he seemed to care so much that he went above and beyond what you asked for.
When he looks up and sees your bewildered expression, he pauses, brows furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong? Is it getting worse? Do you need to lay back down?”
“Oh, no, I..” you start to answer but well.. What do you even say? It’s hard to explain why such a simple kindness would render you so incapacitated.
“If you’re worried about how much I spent, it’s fine! Nothing I can’t make up with another day at the office,” he says with a smile. “Oh, but you shouldn’t still be standing! Here, let’s sit you down.” Changbin guides you to your sofa, hurrying back to your kitchen to grab the food and bring it to you. He places it carefully in your hands before he sits down next to you.
You stare at the food in your hands, blinking as you try to process. He really did all this for you because he cares? He doesn’t expect anything in return? He isn’t going to complain about the costs or the effort, or make you feel like a burden?
No, you know that he won’t, and that’s the part that sends waves of an indescribable emotion through you. “Is it wrong? Did you lose your appetite?” he asks when he notices you just looking at it, leaning closer to inspect the meal in your hands, then back up to your face.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I did for a second. I’m good to eat now though,” you fib, but smile afterwards to ease any worries he has.
“No need to say sorry for that, just eat before it happens again, okay?” Changbin watches for a few moments, making sure that the food isn’t going to make you more ill. As much as he wants you to eat to get better, he knows how hard it can be to force yourself, and how it can make any nausea you feel worse.
When he is assured that your appetite is in fact back and that you’re eating well, he turns back to his own meal. You share a comfortable silence for a time as you focus on getting food in your system, though Changbin finishes much faster than you due to the cold slowing your pace. He doesn’t spend the time waiting for you to finish idly though– instead, he prepares more medicine for you, gets you more water, and cleans up any messes left in his wake.
“So, what show is this?” he asks when he’s finished cleaning up the trash from your meals. You told him he didn’t have to and that you’d clean it up later of course, but he insisted upon it.
“I don’t know actually. I just put anything on,” you answer. Changbin frowns a little, cutely you might add, before he speaks. “That’s no good, you should watch your favorite things when you don’t feel good. Like.. a comfort movie! What's your favorite? We’ll watch that!”
He quickly reaches for the remote before looking at you expectantly. “Oh, uhm..” You hesitate, hoping that you appear to just be thinking about it instead of taken aback like you truly were.
You couldn’t remember the last time you had a boyfriend (genuine or otherwise) that valued any of your opinions, that wanted to give the things you liked a try, or indulge in any interests you had. Something as small as letting you choose what to watch on tv meant more to you than he could possibly realize.
It doesn’t take much actual thought to make your suggestion and tell him where he can find it, and he beams as he follows your instructions to get the movie playing. The only problem now, you soon realize, is that you have no space to lay back down.
Given that you live alone and don’t often have company, you chose to buy a smaller sofa and save the extra money. That decision seemed smart at the time, but now you wondered if you should’ve just gone for the bigger furniture, additional cost be damned.
Changbin watches you fumble with your pillow for a few moments, trying to find different ways to prop it up and make it comfortable to lay against, before he gets the courage to speak up. “Do you want to lay on me?”
“Huh?” you say, not because you didn’t hear him, but because you’re surprised he asked. “We can cuddle..? If you want?” he offers, the slightest bit of pink dusting his cheeks. Oh, you’re fucked. There’s no reason the prospect of cuddling should make butterflies erupt in your stomach like this.
You nod, tentatively passing your pillow over to him. Changbin places it carefully against the arm rest before he props himself against it, motioning for you to lay against him once he’s settled. Your head rests on his chest, and Changbin wraps his arm around you carefully, ensuring that his touch is comforting and not inappropriate. You unwittingly let out a sigh as your body relaxes, and Changbin has to suppress a smile in response.
Before you know it, your eyes are closing– Changbin is just so warm and comfortable, you can’t fight it. He smells good and his gentle touch is soothing, the slow circles he draws on your skin with his thumb lulling you to sleep. The sound of your comfort movie playing becomes almost silent in your ears, being replaced instead by the sound of Changbin’s breathing and the steady beating of his heart.
The movement of Changbin’s leg eventually stirs you awake, and you sit up with a yawn, rubbing your tired eyes. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologizes before he stretches out his legs. You guess they must’ve fallen asleep after being in the same position for a while.
“How long was I asleep?” you ask as you turn your attention to the tv. The movie you picked was no longer playing, and it seemed to be half way through a different one.
“I’m not sure, a few hours maybe?” he replies; after you settled on him, he couldn't reach his phone. His only judge of time has been the movies playing.
“What? Really?!” You scramble for your phone to check the time and see that Changbin was right– you have been asleep on him for at least 2 and a half hours. “You could’ve woken me up,” you frown, but Changbin shakes his head vigorously, as if that was never an option.
“No, you’re sick! You needed the rest.” He had a point of course, but you still felt bad that he was probably bored out of his mind uncomfortable letting you sleep on him like that for so long.
Changbin notes your pout, and thinks about how cute you are to him, even when you’re sick, and puffy, and tired. “Why don’t you go to bed for the night? Your body needs it,” he suggests after you let out yet another yawn.
“Yeah, okay,” you nod, and Changbin quickly rises to his feet to help you stand (though you would argue you are stable enough to walk on your own.) He carries your pillow for you, and would’ve carried your blanket as well if not for the fact that you currently had it wrapped around your body like a cocoon.
Your room is a bit messy, but thankfully there’s nothing lying around that you would be embarrassed for him to see. Changbin sets your pillow down before ensuring that you get in the bed. He turns to walk away once you're settled, promising he’ll lock the door on his way out and text you tomorrow.
But in a move that surprises even yourself, you call out to him before he makes it back to your bedroom door. He faces you quickly, head tilted as asks what’s wrong. “Do you want to stay?” your voice comes out smaller than intended, but Changbin hears you clearly.
And it’s his turn for his heart to feel like it’s going to burst, hoping that the faint blush rising to his cheeks is masked by the darkness in you room. “I mean, it’s late so..” you continue when he doesn’t answer right away, hoping you haven’t overstepped a boundary by asking.
“Of course, I’d like that,” he says to your relief. He’s nervous as he makes the short trek back to your bed, both of your hearts pounding in your chests as he moves the blanket to lie down next to you. It feels like you’re a teenager again rather than an adult pushing thirty when he settles in and looks at you, face just a few mere inches away from yours. It's almost embarrassing how easily he gives you butterflies.
“I want to kiss you so bad,” he admits suddenly, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes search for yours in the darkness. “What if you get sick?” you ask, laughing when he exclaims in response. “I wouldn’t be here right now if I cared about getting sick!”
“Fair point,” you smile as you inch your way a bit closer to him. He reaches out for you, arm wrapping around your waist as he moves in, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. The first kiss you share is light, almost careful, and soft, but it’s enough to make your stomach flip. Changbin has a small smile when he pulls away, which makes you smile as well.
“Thank you for tonight,” you say and he shakes his head, his own smile growing. “It’s the least I can do for my girlfriend. I mean.. I hope you will be, anyways.”
“Of course I will be,” you giggle, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” “In that case!” Changbin rises suddenly, surprising you as he clasps your hands in his. “Y/N. In case it’s not obvious, I really like you. Will you be my girlfriend?”
You giggle as you accept, and his smile is beaming as he lies back down and pulls you into another kiss. “Get some rest now, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up,” Changbin speaks softly as his arms wrap around you in a hug.
You close your eyes as you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, feeling nothing but happiness and comfort as you once again fall asleep against him.
The weeks following making your relationship with Changbin official are simultaneously the most elating and the most fraught you’d ever lived. Both of which due to the fact that Changbin seems to be literally perfect.
He’s attentive, funny, and incredibly caring, all while being devastatingly cute and handsome. He’s also the most selfless and encouraging person you’ve ever been with, and it riddles you with guilt every time you remember what you ultimately have to do.
Can you bring yourself to betray him after all this? Your allegiance is supposed to align with your brother, but the more time you spend with Changbin, the more you question if it’s something you can really do. He was just so different, almost painfully so– the mere thought of breaking his trust fills you with a dread you’ve never experienced before now.
Apart from that, as you expected, Changbin keeps his work life and home life separate. He might tell you he’s stressed, or in vague terms he'll talk about why a case is hard for him currently, but he never shares details. And you never press him, though technically you should.
That’s what you were supposed to be doing here– getting information, passing it along, giving Chan the upper hand he needs to help Minho. And the fact that you don’t press for details, the fact that you don’t want to, also fills you with guilt.
You should want to help your brother, to help Minho out of his situation, but you don’t. Plus, you’re only here because Chan asked you to be, because he set everything up for you, because he put his trust in you.
Yet here you are, 3 months later with nothing to show for it. Chan is patient, he isn’t expecting any huge revelation right away as he knew building trust with someone isn’t something that happens over night, but it won’t be that way forever.
You don’t know when, but a time will come when your brother asks you what you have. What you’ve learned, how your progress with Changbin is, and what steps you’ve been taking to gather information. But what will you even say in response?
Can you be honest in that situation, and admit that you like Changbin too much to hurt him? You’re torn between the obligation you have to your brother, and the feelings you have for Changbin. What will you do when you inevitably have to choose between them, and decide which bond is the more important one to uphold?
“You okay, honey?” Changbin’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Oh, sorry, just nervous I guess,” you answer with a smile that you hope he can’t tell is forced.
“Don’t worry, Hyunjin’s nice, I promise! And he’ll love you, I’m sure of it,” he smiles as he gives you a peck on the head. You smile and thank him, feeling a bit guilty that he’s trying to comfort you over a white lie, but telling the truth certainly isn’t something you’re ready to do yet.
Well, maybe it isn’t entirely a lie– you are nervous to meet Hyunjin for the first time too. That’s what brought you to Changbin’s place today; his best friend, who you were originally supposed to meet the night of your 2nd date, is coming over for dinner today.
He finally has free time in his schedule following the exhibit and family responsibilities, and Changbin excitedly planned for, in his words, his best friend and his favorite girl to finally meet.
Changbin, despite considering himself to not be much of a cook, did a lot of work to make the dinner nice. Not so much for Hyunjin of course, but for you. He’s secretly hoping you’ll be impressed by his efforts and compliment him (he lives for your praise, you've begun to notice.)
It doesn’t take much longer for Hyunjin to arrive, with Changbin being full of smiles as he introduces the two of you to each other. You try your best to not be awkward as you make small talk, though thankfully (and as usual) Changbin easily steers the conversations and makes them lively.
He encourages you to talk about yourself as well, as opposed to just making you listen to them catch up, and you appreciate that he wants you to be an active participant of the conversation instead of just existing there.
“Did Changbin tell you how we became friends?” Hyunjin asks towards the end of the meal, which makes Changbin audibly groan in response. “Do you have to bring that up every time? It’s embarrassing!”
You chuckle as you listen to your boyfriend complain. He’s brought up embarrassing memories to you before so you are a bit surprised by his outburst, but maybe it’s because he wanted to tell you on his own time.
“But it’s my favorite story! And it’s not even embarrassing, you’re just dramatic,” Hyunjin says and Changbin pouts and crosses his arms. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide which of my memories are embarrassing or not?”
“Well it’s my memory too, and I say it’s not,” Hyunjin says matter-of-factly. Changbin’s pout grows as he looks over at you and notices your eager expression. You definitely want to hear the story now; you’re so curious! “Fine,” he sighs in defeat as he lets his head fall to the table. “But you better not laugh!”
“I won’t, I promise,” you say with a sweet smile. You can tell he’s not genuinely upset; if he was it would be obvious. Maybe he’s just a little nervous about what your reaction will be? But you’ll give him all the reassurance he needs that you won’t find this funny if it’s not something he’s able to laugh at too.
You give him a small kiss for being a good sport, which causes him to turn his head away to hide the smile that starts to grow when you do. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin as he begins telling the story.
“So, we’re in middle school right? And I didn’t have any friends. I was the kind of kid that preferred to stay indoors and read or draw than be outside, so I didn’t get along much with the other kids who loved to play around roughly in the yard. I wouldn’t say I was bullied, but the other boys weren’t quiet about the fact that I was weird.”
“And then Changbin transfers in later in the year, and not even a few days into his first week there, he’s already fighting kids for being mean to me! Just a boy in his class he’s never even spoken to before, and he wanted to defend me anyways.”
It’s easy to see why this is Hyunjin’s favorite story, and he smiles warmly as he tells it. “And it might be hard to imagine, but he was small back then, so he was fighting kids like, twice his size.”
“Yah! You didn’t have to bring that part up!” Changbin lifts his head to exclaim, making you giggle. “What’s wrong with that? It shows how kind and brave you were,” you say.
The pout practically melts off his face, easily turning into a small smile at your compliment. “Yeah, well.. I still am, you know.”
“Of course I know, that’s why I like you so much,” you say before giving him another peck. His bashful smile is so sweet and cute, you have to resist the urge to attack him with more kisses in front of Hyunjin.
“See, I did you a favor by telling her! You loved the story, right Y/N?” Hyunjin wears a victorious, almost I-told-you-so type of smile as you nod. It just makes you like him more, to be honest, knowing that he’s been this way since he was young– chivalrous and sweet above all else.
“We became good friends after that. And eventually Changbin told me he wanted to help everyone someday, like a superhero.” Changbin groans again as you giggle at Hyunjin’s words. That must be another reason he’s embarrassed– wanting to be a superhero when you grow up isn’t the most realistic thing to aspire to.
Still, it's more than common for kids to want to be something impossible– and it warms your heart just how selfless he was, even then. “I knew you’d laugh,” he grumbles as he pouts.
“I’m not laughing at you Binnie, I just think you’re cute,” you tell him sweetly, and his face turns a light shade of pink. “I feel like I’m being bullied right now,” Changbin says as he points between the two of you. “You’re banding together to embarrass me.”
“Here, I’ll make it up to you by cleaning up,” you say as you rise to your feet. “Wait, no, I’ll do it!” Changbin protests, grabbing your used plate from your hands. “You’re my guest, I’ll take care of it.”
You want to argue and help, but you know there’s no point; Changbin is stubborn about things like this. So you concede easily and sit back down.
“Changbin seems happy. I’m glad he has you,” Hyunjin says after Changbin steps away to put the dishes in his sink, apparently not wanting to fluster the man further by saying it in front of him. “It might be hard to tell now, but he was depressed for a long time.”
Your heart squeezes in your chest at the words. You loved that you were able to make Changbin happier, but it was equally painful. You know what your reality is, and what you’re supposed to be doing here. You know, but you don’t want to.
“He’s a good man,” you reply, “he deserves to be happy.” Hyunjin smiles, and Changbin walks back in, equally as smiley and oblivious to the small conversation you just had.
Fuck, you felt terrible. You now knew quite a bit about Changbin's best with his ex, and what led to his divorce. He bore the entirety of his heart to you, feeling like it was important to bring up when you were starting to get serious so that the problems he experienced back then wouldn’t repeat themselves in his relationship with you.
He worked really hard to get where he is today, to become chief of police. He had a strong sense of justice, and an equally strong urge to help people. But eventually, that passion started to cause a rift in his relationship. His ex felt neglected and alone most nights while Changbin was spending all his free time putting in extra hours, working harder than he had to.
But he wanted to, he loved doing it, he had so much pride in his career. And that pride and passion led him to his dream position, and effectively made him the youngest person to get so far in such a short amount of time. He was proud of himself, of the life he built, and it devastated him when he realized his partner didn’t feel the same way.
Changbin’s ex didn’t want someone who spent all their free time buried in work, they wanted him to be more present. They wanted someone to spend quality time with, who would make time for them and the family they planned to one day build, who would prioritize them above all else.
Even on his time off he thought about work, he talked about cases and sometimes even brought his work home with him– but his partner didn’t want that to be their entire life. He explained that he was confused at first; he didn’t understand how his dedication to his career could cause this to happen.
In his mind, everything was perfect– his dream career, a beautiful house, and a loving partner. It took time for him to understand their perspective and see what he could have done differently, but it was too late by then for him to make it work.
His career was important to him and he wasn’t wrong for that, but they also weren’t wrong for wanting to be with someone more attentive and less busy, and he understood that now.
That’s why he wanted to make sure you understood that about him, and would accept him if he ever spent long hours in his office or a case required his urgent attention. And in return, he’d make sure he’d do what he should to be a good boyfriend on his time off.
He'd do his best to leave work at work, to make adequate time for you and not let you fall to the wayside when a case is capturing his attention. He'd shower you with affection, he'd make time for you in whatever ways he could, he's be present– that was his promise to you.
Those years were hard for him, but he learned a lot from it; about how to find the balance between his work and home life, how to turn off his 'police chief' brain at the end of the shift, and use his time off for what it's meant for.
It’s also part of the reason he doesn’t tell you about things in detail, afraid that you might begin to resent him in the same way his ex had. That if he spends too much time absorbed in his work that you’ll just decide you’ve had enough and walk away from him.
It was hard for Changbin to admit that to you, but he knew he had to bring it up early so you knew. But truthfully, you only ever admired him. You loved when he was passionate or excited, and you couldn’t imagine ever shutting him down or making him feel bad for it.
You loved seeing his beaming smile every time he said a case was solved, when there was a successful interrogation at the office, or evidence came back nailing their suspect. You couldn’t imagine ever seeing that unbridled joy and not smiling along with him.
And so, because his ex didn’t, you told him you were proud of him. You told him he did a good job, you shared in his happiness, you met his enthusiasm with love.
Love? Were you in love?
Is that why your heart ached so much? But it’s natural to feel bad right? Changbin is a good person and you don’t want to do something cruel to him. It’s normal to be upset about that.
It’s normal for your heart to hurt over this. It’s normal for dread to course through your veins, to not want to imagine how much pain he would be in if you betrayed his trust. That’s all normal, so surely you’re not in love with him already? Right?
You swallow apprehensively as you look at Changbin. He’s talking animatedly with Hyunjin, his smile as bright as ever, his loud voice full of joy. Normally seeing him like that made you happy too; you’d smile right along with him, giggling at all his cute expressions and declarations.
But now there’s a lump in your throat, hands shaking as the anxiety starts to consume you. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don't want to be the reason all his progress his undone.
Changbin is an observant man, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom before he can read your expression and see that something is bothering you. You take deep breaths, hands trembling as you try to calm yourself.
You’re just anxious, that’s all it is, it’ll pass, you’ll be fine, you tell yourself. You give yourself a moment longer before washing your hands and stepping out to rejoin the men.
Thankfully, you successfully managed to calm yourself for now, and rejoin their conversation organically. It was a relief honestly that Changbin didn’t seem to be aware of the internal battle you were having with yourself.
You mentally thanked Hyunjin for keeping him distracted enough, as you knew Changbin’s care for you would make all those emotions you’re trying to hold back erupt. And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to face those feelings just yet.
It didn’t take much longer for the day to transition into night, with Hyunjin needing to bid his goodbyes to return to his family. Changbin made him promise to bring them next time, of course, and Hyunjin happily agreed to bring them if they were able.
The moment his friend leaves, Changbin turns to you with an almost hopeful look. “You don’t work tomorrow, right?” he asks, and you can tell by the small pout on his lips that he intends to ask something of you.
“No, I don’t,” you assure with a soft smile, wondering what he was about to segway into. “Stay the night with me,” he continues his pout, looking at you with his puppy eyes that you’ve grown fond of.
“But none of my things are here,” you say with a small frown, which only makes his pouting even more blatant. “You can just wear something of mine! Please?”
It wasn’t really the clothes you were worried about; you had makeup on and your skin would surely suffer if you left it on all night. You weren’t sure if Changbin had anything in his cabinet that would be sufficient enough to remove it.
But God, his cute begging always made you so weak. How were you supposed to say no when he hit you with the puppy dog look? So you supposed you would have to make do with whatever he may or may not have, and apologize to your skin tomorrow by giving it some extra care once you return home.
“I’ll stay,” you say with a faux exasperated sigh but Changbin is unphased by it, immediately beaming at you with pure happiness. “I’ll grab something for you, wait here,” he smiles as he turns quickly to his bedroom to search for suitable pajamas for you.
You can't help but smile as well by his cute behavior; Changbin may look intimidating, but he truly is a softie underneath it all. He was easily the most clingy man you’d ever met, and he had no shame in pouting or pulling a cute face to get a kiss or a smile from you.
Honestly, you really liked it. After years of dating hard men who showed no affection or genuine kindness, you loved that he seemed to have it in droves, and offered it freely.
“Here you go baby,” he says in his cheery tone, placing his selection carefully in your hands when he returns. “You go ahead and get changed, I’m gonna clean up in here first.” He said after giving you a quick peck on the lips, turning his attention to the dishes that mounted in the sink from your dinner with Hyunjin.
You walk to his bathroom, and set his clothes down on the sink as you try to make a plan on how you can remove your makeup while doing minimal damage to your skin.
You feel like you’ve done a decent enough job with what you had at your disposal, and now that you feel content with your makeup removal, you decide it's time to change into the shirt that Changbin provided you.
While you haven’t seen Changbin without a shirt before, anyone can tell just from a look that his muscles are big, so you hope that the shirt he provided you with will be loose enough to keep you comfortable tonight. Once it’s pulled over your head, you feel happy enough with the way it fits on you.
It wasn’t long enough to conceal your underwear by any means, and your curves are still obvious, but it’s not overly tight or restrictive at all; you find yourself hoping that Changbin will like the way you look in it. Scooping up the dress you wore for dinner in your arms, you stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the living room where your bag was still resting on the couch.
The light in the kitchen was off, the only illumination between the spaces being the night light plugged in next to his couch. Deciding that must mean Changbin was finished cleaning up and is already in his bedroom, you swiftly shove your dress into your bag before picking it up to take with you.
The door to his bedroom is ajar, allowing light to filter into the hallway and confirming to you that's where he is. You knock carefully, deciding you shouldn’t just barge into his room if he is changing. “You can come in!” You hear his voice call out, and so you push the door open further to step inside.
As expected, Changbin had changed into his own selection of pajamas (a simple shirt and sweatpants), and was sitting at the foot of the bed with his tv remote in hand, shuffling through his selection of streaming services. Stepping in fully, you close his door behind you as you had learned from your nights together that was his preference when sleeping.
You noticed him swallow after he turned his gaze to you, but he didn’t allow his eyes to travel down to your legs. “Is the shirt comfortable enough? Do– Do you need anything else? I have shorts and–”
“No, I’m comfortable, thank you Binnie,” you smile as you step towards the bed, placing your bag down next to the nightstand. You were sure that he wanted to look, but you strangely liked that he hadn’t. Changbin was always careful and respectful, and you were sure that as soon as he realized the shirt didn’t cover you fully, he made a conscious effort to keep his eyes on your face.
Plus, he asked if you were comfortable and offered more clothes without hesitation, which you appreciated and once again testified his chivalrous nature to you. His posture relaxed at your answer; his intention was for your body to be completely covered but as long as you were comfortable that was all that mattered to him.
“I can’t remember whose turn it is to pick tonight so I started looking just in case,” he explains, quickly moving on now that your comfort is assured to him. You and Changbin had made a habit of going back and forth picking things to watch on the nights you stayed together, a ritual that you had come to really look forward to.
And you were fairly sure it is your turn to pick tonight, but since Changbin has been so sweet and kind to you, you wanted to let him put on whatever might have caught his eye. “It’s your turn,” you say as you settle onto his bed.
“In that case, let's watch this!” he says with a smile as he quickly shuffles through a selection of animated movies and lands on Howl’s Moving Castle. “Hyunjin was obsessed with this movie when we were kids, we’d watch it all the time,” he says with a fond smile.
You’ve seen it as well, but Changbin’s earnest joy to share a childhood film with you is incredibly sweet, so you feign ignorance as he excitedly shares his memories with you. He continues talking even as he stands to turn off the light, and crawls his way into bed next to you.
You find his nostalgia trip heartwarming, and you listen to his tales with a soft smile, interjecting only if you have to. After getting under the blanket, he settles in against his headboard and opens his arm out for you to curl up against him as you always did.
Keeping in line with your routine, you don't hesitate to get close and lay your head against his shoulder, letting his arm wrap around you comfortably. “Comfy, baby?” he asks after you’ve finished shuffling into your usual position, and you nod, assuring him that you’re ready for him to play the movie.
Time passes in comfortable silence, with the occasional small laugh coming from Changbin at Calcifer’s attitude. You, on the other hand, wanted to pay attention to the movie and enjoy it with him, but instead became lost in thought, not focusing at all on the scenes playing in front of you.
Your mind had wandered back to what a future with Changbin would be like. Would this routine continue even years in the future? Would you cook dinner for each other after late nights, cuddle under blankets as you watched tv, talk about the mundane things in life over morning coffee? Would you still share soft kisses, hold each other's hand at every opportunity, text each other during work just to check in and say you missed each other?
You stopped hoping for a love like this a long time ago; the domesticity that comes with sharing your life with someone you love always feeling like a hopeless dream. Was it Changbin that awoke something deep inside you, or were your feelings always there, but pushed so deep you couldn't find them anymore, where they lied forgotten and left to rot?
You’d never met someone so gentle and considerate until Changbin, and his care was laced in every interaction you had with him. Every word, every gesture, every look was so full of affection and tenderness that it left you reeling. How could someone like him exist?
Noticing you’ve been quieter than usual, Changbin turns his head to look at you, checking if you’ve already fallen asleep. “Are you still awake, love?” he whispers softly, moving his hand from your waist to rub careful circles on your arm.
“Mm, sorry, I spaced out,” you answer, not sure if you're ready to tell him how badly you want to spend forever with him. You know you love him– it's obvious that love is what this unfamiliar feeling you are failing to push away is, but wasn't it too soon to say? You didn't want to scare him off by confessing something so deep after only having dated for a few months.
"Are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks with a frown, concern clearly showing in his eyes. He was pretty sure he hadn't said or done anything wrong, at least not on purpose; he couldn't guess what could possibly be bothering you. But he can tell something is– he's never seen you look so sullen.
You swallow as you look up at him. What are you supposed to say? 'I'm in love with you, I want to spend all my days with you, you're everything I've ever wanted.' There was absolutely no way you could say all that right now– it was too much, and left you too vulnerable.
And then there was the matter of how this relationship even started. You were supposed to make Changbin trust you so could start leaking information to Chan; the entire foundation was built with the intent of deceiving him. You didn't think you could handle the heartbreak you'd feel if you lost him; your days with him were the safest and happiest you'd ever felt, and you were scared of losing it.
You were terrified of that truth being revealed to Changbin, dread settling in your gut when you thought about what kind of expression he'd have. Anger, resentment, disgust.. All possibilities you didn't want to see on him.
But it's not like you could simply open up about this. Sure, Chan was your brother and he wanted you to be happy, but could he really accept you being with the very officer that oversaw the arrest of Minho? Wouldn't that feel like a betrayal to him? Would he offer his blessing for you to be with someone who threatened the very existence of his life?
You couldn't imagine a scenario where he'd ever be okay with such a thing. Even if he understood you couldn't help it, you knew he'd still be upset and want you to end your relationship with Changbin regardless of your feelings.
Everything was so complicated and there was no easy solution. No matter what choice was made, someone would be hurt– but you couldn't bear for that person to be Changbin. He doesn't deserve it, he's already been through so much pain, his healing process long and difficult. The thought of you making it worse when you were supposed to be the person helping him feel secure made your heart ache unbearably.
Before you could even realize it was happening, tears had welled in your eyes and began falling. Changbin's heart sank when he saw your tears, panic settling in as he carefully turned to cup your face in his hands. "Why are you crying, baby? What is it?" He asked, voice soft as he wiped the tears away with his thumbs.
What are you supposed to say? 'Our relationship is built on lies. My brother is the man you've been searching for for so long. I'm scared that you'll hate me for lying to you. I'm scared to be alone after knowing what real love feels like.' Your lip quivers as the thoughts cycle in your mind.
Anxiety is welling within Changbin, but he's trying to keep a calm exterior for your sake. He doesn't want to agitate whatever might be bothering you and make it worse, but he can't help the way his mind races through the possibilities.
He'd never seen you like this before, and it felt so sudden that he didn't know what to do for you. Everything was fine before now, but maybe you were just good at disguising when something was wrong. Maybe he had upset you without realizing, and you just pushed it aside until you couldn't any longer.
"I.." you start, trying your best to get anything out at this point. Changbin was being so gentle and patient with you, which only spurred on your intense emotions. His gaze was fixed on you, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your skin and wiping away tears when they fell.
Even with anxiety growing in him, he didn't push you. He waited for you to answer on your own time, whispering soothing words to you. "It's okay, everything's okay, I've got you," he'd say, doing his best to console you despite not knowing the cause for your tears.
"I love you," you say quietly, voice trembling as you wait for rejection. There's no way he'd return your feelings after such a short amount of time. Wasn’t 3 months too soon to fall in love with someone so entirely?
There's no way he'd look at you right now and think this was normal. His rejection wouldn't be harsh, he was much too considerate to hurt you, but knowing he didn't feel the same would be enough to shatter you into pieces.
Changbin was completely stunned, brows furrowing in concern. "You're.. crying because you love me?" he asks, trying to wrap his head around your answer, and understand why that would cause you to cry like this. He certainly didn't expect this to be the way he first hears that admission from your lips.
He watches your expression carefully, trying to be patient and hear your thoughts without jumping to any conclusions or putting words in your mouth. "I.. I've never been with someone as good as you. And you're– you're so sweet to me, and I'm scared you'll leave me," you say between shaky inhales and his heart aches in response. What had you been through before now to make you feel this way?
"I'm not going to leave you, I begged you to be here, remember?" he said, hoping the memory of him cutely begging for you to stay with him tonight would help you feel better. He continues after you nod, moving his hands to your own to hold them. "I'm not ever going to leave you, okay? I promise."
He squeezes your hands gently as your lip quivers again, eyes threatening to spill more tears as you look down at his hands grasping yours. It was so bittersweet.
You were comforted by his words, hearing them made you happy, but at the same time you knew it couldn't be true. If he learned the truth he'd hate you, he'd leave you, you were sure of it.
But you wanted to believe he wouldn't, wanted to believe in this promise. You wanted to believe you could have a future together, where every day was full of joy and love. Even if the rational part of your brain knew how impossible it was, you wanted nothing more than for that to be your reality.
"Can you look at me?" he asks softly, and you take a deep breath before obliging, hands trembling as you once again meet his eyes. "I love you," he says and you suck in your breath, trying your best not to cry even harder than you already have been. "I love you," he repeats, keeping one hand wrapped around your own while the other returns to your face.
He kisses you as if you're made of glass, so careful that you almost don't register it. Was it possible for a heart to break and mend at the same time? To feel euphoric and devastated all at once? Rational and coherent thought leaves you now, being overtaken by your yearning for the man in front of you. He changes his hold on your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away to read your expression.
"I don't know what you've been through before to make you cry like this, but I'm here for you now," he says softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner and made you worry, but I'll repeat it as many times as you need to hear it. I love you."
You look into his eyes, seeing for yourself the true depth of his words. You knew Changbin was careful and considerate toward you, but he also upheld truth above all else. He didn't say things he didn't mean; he was honest even to a fault. He always said the things he truly thought, regardless of what any consequence may be. You believed he wouldn't say something like this just to make you feel better.
So, to hear him say "I love you," it can only be true. You were both scarred from your pasts, you with abusive exes and relationships built on false pretenses with no genuine love to be had, and Changbin the sufferer of a devestating divorce, left alone by the only person he'd loved before now.
Maybe fate brought you together because you were both desperately in need of something that wasn't obtainable before. Love, connection, understanding, belonging.. Foreign feelings that had rooted in you faster than you could even fathom.
"Kiss me again please," you say so quietly it's almost a whisper. You want the feeling of Changbin to consume you completely, this feeling of love and acceptance to encompass you in your entirety, to quell the torrential downpour of thoughts raging in your mind until he is all that is left.
Changbin hears your request despite how softly you speak, and quickly moves to oblige you, squeezing the fingers intertwined with his as a gesture of comfort. His lips against yours tune out the world around you, the movie playing in the background long since forgotten.
His kisses are one after another, soft and gentle but still enough to leave you breathless. "I love you," he reminds you again between breaths, and you don't hesitate to say it back each time, even with the way the air has dissipated from your lungs with each moment of his lips on yours.
When he finally stops kissing you to allow you both to breathe, he rests his forehead against yours, looking straight at you once again. You thankfully have stopped crying, the crashing waves of anxiety you had felt moments ago receding with each of Changbin’s sweet touches and words.
You knew they'd return, there was no escaping from your problems, but at least for some small amount of time you could lose yourself in this moment and forget about it all. "You have no idea how much I adore you," Changbin tells you as he separates one of his hands from yours, reaching up to instead rub his thumb against your cheek.
"Thank you, Binnie… I'm sorry for crying, I must've startled you.." you frown as you look at him, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable from your outpouring of emotions. "Don't be sorry honey, it's okay.. All that matters to me is that you feel better," he says, still using his soft and gentle tone.
Separating your hand from his, you move to pull him into a tight hug, wrapping your arms around him as you bury your head into his shoulder. "You feeling okay now?" he asks as he wraps his own arm around your waist, and you nod against his neck, telling him that you just want to be close to him.
He smiles, finding the sudden clinginess endearing. After all, It's usually him being the overly touchy and clingy one of the two of you. "Let's get more comfy then," he says as he uses the strength of his arms to pull you into his lap before he shifts to let his back rest against the headboard of the bed, your legs on either side of him.
One arm stays firmly wrapped around you, while the other travels up and down your back, ensuring that you feel comfortable and relaxed. The movie is nearing its conclusion now, but neither of you are focused on it. You are locked in your feelings of serene comfort, of a love that you'd felt was not meant for you, the way Changbin so carefully put you back together when you were falling apart.
It meant everything to you, in ways you felt no words could express. Changbin meanwhile was observing you carefully for any changes in your demeanor or breathing, just wanting to ensure he was there for you for any and every thing.
"Binnie.." you breathe out as you sit up to look at him once more. "Yes, love?" he implores, eyes full of curiosity but also patience. He won't rush you to get anything out, giving you the time to prepare yourself to say the things that are in your head, ensuring things are always at your own pace. "I want you," you say after a breath, face heating up a bit at the admission, hoping he understands the implication of your statement.
While you are certainly no stranger to sex, you are a stranger to intimacy. The vulnerability of offering yourself up to someone, showing them all that you are and all that you have. You've never exposed yourself to someone in such a raw way, poured out feelings so intensely and honestly.
You love him, and you want him in any and every way he would have you. You want that feeling of making love that always eluded you, the feeling of trust and care that comes with being in the hands of someone who loves you, truly loves you, and wants you as much as you want them.
"You have me," he says, bringing his face close to yours once more, "I'm yours." Your face burns further at his confession, shivers running down your spine as your lips meet once again.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you lean into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. You lost track of the amount of time you spent with your lips on his, the intensity building as each kiss became more heated than the last.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you feel his tongue against your lips for the first time, as if you had never experienced such a thing before now. You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to slip inside your mouth. His tongue moves in languid circles around your own, relishing in the taste and feeling of you.
You're the first to pull away to breathe properly, looking at Changbin with a flushed face, and God, is he pretty like this. He's nearly as breathless as you, dark curly hair disheveled from your fingers absentmindedly running through it, looking at you with a look you've never seen on him before.
Yearning? Desire? "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he says as he moves one of his arms to touch your face again, cupping it in his hand. "My pretty girl."
It had to be impossible for your face to get any hotter than this, you thought. Sure, you could put together that Changbin was attracted to you, but to hear him say it like this was.. different. You weren't used to this side of him yet– the side that would shower you in love and praise while looking at you with such a lust filled gaze.
"I…" you swallow, trying to squash down the shyness bubbling within you. Was it normal to feel like this the first time with someone you love? You wouldn't really know.
"I want to.. Can you touch me..?" you finally manage to get out, despite the nervousness settling over you. "As long as you’re sure," he says, hands moving to rest on your hips as he observes your face carefully. You've had your fair share of make out sessions as your relationship progressed further, but the two of you never took it any further than that.
Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to feel you under his palms, but he hadn't yet because he wanted to take things slow and treat you right. And now it was apparent that you were going through so much internally, the last thing Changbin wanted to do was take advantage while you were emotionally vulnerable.
"I'm sure," you nod without hesitation. You were attracted to him from the day you met him, and the more you learned about him, the more you grew to fall in love with him, little by little. You love him. You trust him.
And yes, this foreign experience did leave you shyer and more vulnerable than you ever felt, but you wanted him more than you ever wanted anyone. Changbin can see the certainty clear in your eyes, and he smiles slightly, gripping your hips a little firmer than before. "Just.. tell me if you change your mind, okay?"
"I will," you promise him, though you were certain you wouldn't be changing your mind. Changbin's care and consideration for you only made him more desirable in your eyes, and assured you that trusting him would never be something you'd regret.
Changbin leans up to meet you, pressing his lips to yours once more, squeezing the meat of your hips in his hands. You part your lips when you feel his tongue against you again, allowing it to lick against your own until his hands reach the hem of the borrowed t-shirt.
"Is it okay to take it off?" he asks, and you quickly give your approval, lifting your arms so he can pull it over your head effectively. He stares at your topless form shamelessly, swallowingly thickly as he takes it all in.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he says lowly, but you barely have time to react before his lips are on yours again, needy and eager. Changbin's thumbs rub over your nipples, causing you to shudder and mewl into his mouth.
Your body is sensitive from lack of touch, and you feel as if you're becoming dizzy from the way his fingers rub and gently pinch your nipples as his tongue stays in your mouth, never separating from your own for more than a second. You're both breathing heavily by the time he pulls away from you, the longing in his eyes clear as he looks at you.
Changbin takes your hands suddenly, placing them on his own chest. "You can touch me too. Anywhere you want," he says, watching as your face heats up in response, "I'm all yours."
You swallow as you nod, the thought of touching him intimately making your heart accelerate. He had never seen you blush like this before, and he found this new shy side to you incredibly endearing, especially knowing it was all for him. Your hands tremble slightly in anticipation as you reach for the hem of his own shirt. Changbin raises his arms without you even having to say anything, and it is quickly discarded to the floor.
It's Changbin's turn to feel a newfound shyness as your eyes roam the expanse of his torso. While his body is definitely good, he doesn't make a habit of showing it to just anyone; it's something reserved only for moments like this, to be viewed only by someone he's comfortable with and trusts.
As you expected, he has an incredible amount of muscle built up, and you let your hands travel up his stomach, over his chest, down the length of his arms, taking it all in. Some areas of his skin held scars, from wounds you assumed he got from his time on the force, and you glided over them gently, treating them with care.
"You're amazing," you tell him when you look back up to his face, and he smiles, the cute kind you've grown to love so much.
"Not any more so than you," he responds, turning your compliment back to you. You smile back at him, pink dusting both your faces as you pull him into another kiss. You keep it brief this time, instead opting to move down to his neck.
You feel Changbin tense underneath you as your lips touch his skin, leaving sweet kisses before latching to a spot and sucking. The soft groan that leaves his mouth goes straight to your core, and you can immediately tell it's something you'll become addicted to hearing.
His hands are on your hips again, squeezing every time you get another groan out of him. Feeling his cock hard against you, you grind down on it experimentally, and Changbin sucks in a breath, fingers digging into your plush skin at the contact.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, head lolling back as you continue to rub yourself against him. You separate from his neck, looking at his face as you grind down against him. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in pleasure and lips parted, sharp breaths leaving him with each roll of your hips.
"Binnie," you call to him, and he quickly moves his head up right, opening his eyes to look at you. You stop your movements, instead dipping your hand in his waistband to feel his cock with your own hand as you capture his lips with another kiss. It’s thick in your hand, so much so that you almost can't wrap your fingers entirely around it.
He hisses at the contact, body shuddering as you run your thumb over the tip and smear the pre-cum gathering there. Just as he had done to you, you lick at his lips, swallowing his groans as your hand runs up and down his length.
Your free hand rests on his chest, helping to keep you stable as you enclose your fist around his cock, pumping it at a steady pace. Changbin makes no effort to quiet himself or hold back, and you love it. He's vocal, letting you hear for yourself how good you're making him feel, arousal building more and more within you for every new noise you earn from him.
He breaks away from the kiss, looking down to watch your hand work him. “God-” he groans, unconsciously bucking his hips up to meet your fist. He forgot what the feeling of having someone else’s hand on him was like, and you were good; way too good.
He would undoubtedly cum if he let you keep going, and he didn’t want that to happen before he got the chance to please you. "W-Wait," he manages to say, chest heaving as he tries to steady his heavy breaths. You quickly retract your hand, worry clear on your face as you look at him.
Did you do something wrong? Move faster than he was ready for? Changbin can easily spot the worry growing on your expression and he quickly moves a hand to your face, rubbing gently as he had done earlier to comfort you. "Don't worry baby, it felt really good. But I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you."
You flush at his words, stomach flipping in anticipation as you await his next move. "Is it still okay to touch you?" he asks, hands remaining in place until you give him your okay. "Yes.. please," you say and Changbin smiles before he gives you another quick kiss.
He reaches a hand between your legs, rubbing over your underwear and feeling the way the arousal that built up soaks through it. "Oh God," he groans at the proof of your excitement, and heat flashes over you in response. You bury your head into his shoulder, whining as embarrassment overtakes you. Changbin chuckles softly at your reaction, finding you incredibly cute like this.
"Tell me to stop at any time if it's too much," he whispers to you softly; no matter how turned on he is or how much he enjoys this new side of you, it doesn't matter if you're uncomfortable and not enjoying it with him.
"I'm going to put my hand in now," he tells you, pausing for a moment in case you want to tell him to wait. Getting no protests, he slips his hand into your underwear, rubbing between your folds carefully to start with.
"Tell me what you like,” Changbin says, his first touch of your clit being feather light and almost cautious, “What makes you feel good?" He looks at you attentively as he waits for your answer, trying his best not to smile from the bashful expression on your face.
Of course he would ask you that, it’s Changbin. He’s earnest, considerate, and thoughtful; everyone is different and he knows that, so he wants to hear what you like straight from your own mouth instead of risking fumbling around until he finds what you like through chance.
Besides all of that, he has to admit that hearing you tell him what you like yourself makes the moment all the more erotic for him. How can he skip over the opportunity to make his normally confident girlfriend a shy, blushing puddle?
You want to answer him right away, but between his gaze at your face and the way his finger rubs easily over your clit, your brain feels muddled. The way your mouth slightly opens and closes in an attempt to get something out as your face heats up for the umpteenth time doesn’t go unnoticed, so Changbin smiles softly as he whispers encouragement to you. "You can do it, love. Tell me what you like."
“A-A bit harder,” you manage to mutter, and Changbin wastes no time to do as you ask. “Like this?” he inquires as he applies more pressure, watching you closely to gauge your reaction as he does.
The way your hands grip at his shoulders tighter as your head slumps forward with a soft moan emitting from you tells him that he’s on the right track at the very least. “Is that good?” he asks, gently brushing the hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear so he can see you clearly.
You nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as a whimper escapes you. Changbin smiles, and if you were looking at his face you would clearly see the expression of soft satisfaction on him. Not smug by any means, just simply happy to see you enjoying this as much as he is.
“Can you lean back for me?” he asks, and your brows furrow, a little confused by his request, but you oblige him. You lean back, resting your palms behind you and against his legs for support.
Changbin thanks you before leaning himself forward, making the intention of his request clear by attaching his lips to your neck in the same way you had done to him. He wanted to mirror the attention you gave him, to make you feel as good as you made him feel in any way he could.
His free hand travels to one of your breasts, giving a few gentle squeezes before he begins to rub your nipple between his thumb and finger. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, your body not used to this kind of attention being given to it, that it leaves you a whining and shuddering mess on top of him.
His teeth sink gently into the skin connecting your neck with your shoulder, not enough to leave a mark just yet, but enough for you to feel pressure. The contrast between his sharp teeth and gentle licks and kisses lights a fire in you, the desire that was once a small kindling becoming a much larger, fiercer blaze.
You want more, you want him, you want, want, want. He leaves a trail of red on your skin, licking the spots his teeth sink in, peppering them with kisses, and repeating on each new patch of skin he reaches.
Changbin figures he should probably stop before he actually marks your neck; you do work an office job after all. So he pulls away, instead opting to sink his head lower. He plants soft kisses on the nipple that wasn't receiving attention from his fingers, before letting his tongue run over it.
You gasp at the feeling of his tongue on you, and cast your gaze down to look at him. His eyes are locked on yours as you watch his tongue draw circles on your nipple before enclosing his mouth around it. The view alone felt like enough to drive you crazy; it was just so hot, for lack of a better word.
Your hands reach to tangle into his hair, and he groans at each soft tug, encouraging him to keep building the pace and pressure of his fingers on your clit. You're not sure how much time the both of you spent like this; all you can really comprehend is how good it feels, and that you're nearly breathless when he pulls away from your body.
"Do you want more?" he asks you, trying not to give away how eager he actually is in case you don't want that. "Yes, yes, please," you answer quickly, too far gone to be embarrassed by your eagerness, and Changbin smiles as he pulls his hand out of your underwear. "Lay down for me please?"
You comply with his request, carefully moving yourself off his lap and laying your head against his pillows. Your body trembles in anticipation as he moves himself between your legs, his expression as lust filled as it is soft. His fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, but rather than pulling them down right away, he glances at you once more. "I want to take them off you now, is that okay?"
"Yes," you assure him, voice soft but sure, and you lift your legs up to make it easier for him. Changbin beams at you once more before he carefully moves your underwear down your legs, tossing them to the side afterwards.
He leans down to kiss you, his hand running down the soft expanse of body to reach your pussy. He rubs between your folds for a few moments, allowing his fingers to get even wetter before he slips one inside slowly. You whine into his mouth at the insertion, and Changbin begins to pump shallowly, prepping you to take another finger.
A whimper escapes you as his second finger enters you and he pulls away from your mouth to look down at you. "You're so beautiful," Changbin whispers to you as he takes in everything with his eyes. Everything about you is perfect to him, top to bottom, ethereal in every single way. And the fact that you love him, that you want him, that he gets to do this with you…
He wants to show you much you mean to him with every word and every action. He'll never leave you questioning ever again, never make you doubt your worth or his love. He's so insanely infatuated by you, and he'd never forgive himself if he made you feel unloved and unappreciated.
He took things slow at first because he needed to. Losing someone he loved because of his own mistakes was something he never wanted to feel again. He didn't want to be heartbroken and he didn't want to lose you; he wanted to show you he could treat you right if you gave him that chance.
So with that in mind he made a conscious effort to be a gentleman, to move at your pace and to respect anything you may or may not want. He gave you his undivided love and attention, he made sure to always express earnestly how much he liked you. And when he realized he was falling in love with you, he knew he had to be better than the person he once was, now more than ever.
If he wanted just sex, or a shallow connection, he could get that anywhere. What he wanted was love– real love. A person who'd cherish him as much as he did them, who would listen to him, indulge him in his needs, who'd care for him on his bad days, and he'd give it all back to that person in return.
After many failed first dates, or time spent getting to know someone only to realize they weren't compatible, he'd nearly given up hope. So when Jeongin suggested a blind date with you, he thought there was nothing to lose by giving it a shot.
He didn't expect for it to go so well, to become addicted to your smile and your voice, to crave your presence any time he was home, to want to shower you with affection and be showered with it in return. The way you're looking up at him now, entrusting yourself to him, wanting him.. It makes him happier than words can even express.
"You're perfect.. so perfect," Changbin continues, watching as your face heats up from his doting. He's always complimented you, but he understands how different it must feel for you right now. To be showered with affection and love while exposed, while vulnerable, while portraying your authentic self both emotionally and physically– he knows how overwhelming it can be.
And the way you opened up to him, the way you cried for him, the way you expressed your love for him– he knew he could never hurt you the way others have. He wanted to take your heart in his hands and cradle it, protect it. To have you was a gift he'd cherish, and he wanted to make sure you knew how much you meant to him. "I love you."
You barely have time to respond before he kisses you, beginning to move his fingers inside you in earnest. Changbin starts slow, making sure you're well adjusted and comfortable before he picks up his pace. Your breathing goes uneven when he starts to pump his fingers fast, his fingers inside up to the knuckles. You let out a loud gasp when he curls his fingers, hitting your spot expertly.
"Does it feel good, baby?" He asks as he hits your spot over and over again, making you feel dizzy with pleasure. You nod your head quickly at Changbin's question, feeling like trying to conjure words right now is beyond your capabilities.
"You look so beautiful, feeling so good for me, so perfect," he continues, chuckling softly as you whine in response, trying to resist the urge to look away from him or cover your face in embarrassment. He realizes he's just repeating himself at this point, but your reactions to his praise make it too enjoyable to resist doing.
"You're so cute," he says, placing soft kisses against your skin as he shifts himself lower, resting between your legs. Changbin pauses the movement of his fingers as he gets comfortable, waiting for you to lift your head to look at him before he continues.
You almost feel like you could pass out; his dark eyes boring into yours, his curly disheveled hair sticking to his skin as sweat forms on his brow, a slight smile evident and complimenting his features. It's overwhelming in the best way possible.
"I want to do more for you, wanna taste you. Can I?" He asks, the contrast between the soft smile and the lewd request leaving you reeling. "O-Oh, please," you answer eagerly, practically begging for Changbin to do anything and everything he wants to you.
The heat on your face is still apparent but your shyness has become increasingly overridden by need and desperation. You know he'll put all he has into pleasing you, and you want it, crave it. You almost miss the way his eyes glint in excitement before he lowers his head, not wasting any time at using his tongue against your clit.
"Oh my god-" you let out a shaky moan, head falling back against the pillows and body shuddering. His tongue moves in expertly practiced circles, lips enclosing around it as he resumes the thrusting of his fingers. His pace is fast but accurate, hitting your spot over and over as his tongue laps at you.
You're almost embarrassed by how close you're getting so quickly, whining and moaning repeatedly as your body trembles beneath him. The noises emitting from you are everything to Changbin, soft and sweet just like you, addicting and laced with honey.
Your hips are rolling against him, fingers tangled in his hair, each tug eliciting a groan from him that makes the stimulation on your clit even more intense. "S-So clo-close," you manage to gasp out, toes curling as you quickly approach your high.
As much as Changbin would love to whisper praises and encouragement as you cum, he doesn't want you to lose the built up momentum by pulling away from you to talk. Instead, he hums in acknowledgement, keeping his rhythm steady as he awaits your release.
Your climax hits you hard, back arching as the intense feeling of relief overtakes you. Your entire body is tingling, mind being numbed by pleasure as your thighs enclose around his head. Even as you clench tightly around his fingers, he keeps the pace the same, helping you ride out your high until he feels you start to squirm away in overstimulation.
He sits up when your thighs relax and fall back against the bed, looking at you with a mix of endearment and satisfaction. You're completely breathless, chest heaving and face flushed, sweat clinging to you and leaving a sheen he can only describe as ethereal. Your beauty is beyond any tangible words he can conjure, but he'll try his best to express it to you, to make you understand how perfect you are to him.
"You did so well for me, baby," he tells you as he slides his fingers out of you, watching you intently as he brings them to his mouth. You swallow as you watch Changbin lick them clean, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he maintains eye contact with you through it. "My pretty girl tastes so good too," he says as he crawls back up your body, "So perfect for me."
"Changbin," you whine with a small pout, and he chuckles as he looks at you fondly, gently brushing the hair clinging to your forehead away. "It's true, you're so perfect. My perfect girl," he smiles as he places a kiss on your temple, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. "You know that, right? You're so pretty," Changbin whispers to you, running his fingers through your hair passively as he looks down at you.
"Are you trying to make me shy on purpose?" you ask and he laughs, shaking his head. It must be payback for how he felt over dinner.
"I'm just speaking my mind! How cute your reactions are is just a bonus." He kisses you again, pulling you closer to his body as he does. He wraps his arms around you in a hug, pressing your bodies together, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thighs.
"Do you.. want to keep going..?" you pull away from his kisses to ask. "Mm, I'd love that, but do you want to?" Changbin would be overjoyed to continue, but he didn't want to assume.
If you decided this was enough excitement for you for one night, then he'd accept that, no questions asked. He had all the time in the world with you, and there was no need to rush, nor did he want you to feel pressured.
"Yes, I want to," you assure him. You knew you wanted to from the start, to feel him wholly and be consumed by the love and trust you have for him. Your mind was full of him, and you wanted your body to be the same.
“Would you like me to use a condom?” Changbin asks, motioning towards the bedside drawer where he keeps them. He knows from your time together that you’re on birth control, and that you’d be safe if he didn’t use one, but he wouldn't make any assumptions about what you’d be comfortable with. To be with someone without protection required so much trust and love; it was intimate and not something to be taken lightly.
There is a small moment of hesitation, but not because you have to think about it– no, you know for a fact you want him inside you raw. But how do you say that to his face without feeling like you’re going to combust on the spot?
The romantic inside you reasons that you want to feel him with no barriers because you love him, you want to be close to him and give yourself completely to him. The desperately horny part, meanwhile, is full to the brim with the thought of Changbin’s cum shooting inside you.
Changbin watches you patiently despite the way his body is screaming in desperation to feel you. He wants you so badly, almost carnally, but he’ll hold back as long as you need him to, be composed and accommodating for as long as necessary.
His heart nearly skips when you finally speak, the anticipation being held by the thinnest of strings, but he’ll be happy no matter what your answer is. Changbin just wants you, that’s all he knows and all that matters.
“Don’t use one, don’t want you to,” your voice is soft and timid, almost a whisper, but Changbin hears it loud and clear. He’s so focused on you, attuned to you, that he can’t miss it.
His heart quickens as he nods, rendered speechless in what was likely the only time he ever would be. He leans down to kiss you once more, so overtaken by love and excitement that he really can’t help himself.
His heart races once he's lined himself up at your entrance, but he pauses when he looks at your face, painted with a nervous expression that he can't ignore. "What's wrong? Did you change your mind?" Changbin's expression shifts to concern as he looks down at you, but you quickly shake your head, trying to dispel any worry from him.
"N-No, I still want to! I just– I've never… with someone I love, I mean." You tell him, voice slightly trembling from your admission. There was a time in your past, your first time, where you thought you knew what love was, what it meant and what it felt like. But you were so young then, and anything you felt then paled in comparison to what you felt now with Changbin.
"Y/N.." Changbin breathes, using your name for the first time all evening. His expression is one of genuine care for you, his eyes soft and full of affection as he gently moves his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. "I'll take care of you, I promise."
Those men before you who were cruel to you, who didn't treat you with the love and reverence you deserved, who didn't appreciate your beauty and kindness– they were so fucking stupid. He would never make that mistake. He'd do anything for you, love you with all he has and all he is, care for you until the end of his days. That's his promise to you.
"I know, Binnie. I trust you." You bring a hand up to his face, making sure his eyes are locked on yours as you continue. "Make love to me, please." Changbin’s heart erupts in his chest, the sound of those words falling from your lips strengthening his resolve to be the best he possibly can be for you.
He kisses you softly, squeezing your hand in comfort as his length slowly pushes into you. The stretch stings, but the choked groan Changbin makes is more than enough to make you ignore the discomfort. Changbin stills when his hips are flush with yours, letting you get used to the stretch while continuing to squeeze your hand and pepper your face with gentle kisses.
“Feeling okay, love?” he asks as he pulls away to check in with you. Tears poke the corners of your eyes, though from pain or emotion he cannot tell. You look up at him, feeling breathless at the sight of him.
The way he looks at you, so full of love and compassion, is unlike anything you’ve experienced with anyone else. “More than okay,” you answer with a soft smile that helps to ease his concern for you, “want you to move.”
Changbin starts slow, making sure you’re well adjusted before he thrusts in earnest. It doesn’t take him long to figure out the pace and angle that’ll make you see stars, his earlier doting on you with his fingers having prepared him for this moment.
It’s almost too much, your body feeling like a live wire. His free hand travels down to your leg, moving it up and hooking it into his arm to allow himself to sink deeper inside you.
“Fuck, so good, feels so good,” Changbin babbles against your skin, fingers sinking into the flesh of your thigh, letting his nails mark your skin with small crescent moons. He wants to be attentive, wants to care for you properly and make sure he’s pleasing you, but he’s losing composure much faster than he thought he would.
Changbin’s overwhelming lust for you was held in check by a cracked dam, and the more he felt you squeezing around him, the larger the cracks grew. The break is imminent, a tsunami threatening to overtake him at any moment. But he’ll do his best for you until then, make you feel good, and loved, and happy, until restraint leaves him and his high consumes him.
“Love you so much, want you to cum for me again,” he breathes out before he captures your lips in another kiss. Your kisses are much less romantic than before, having devolved into a mess of tongue and teeth, moans and whines being devoured in the shared breath between you. “You’ll cum for me again, right pretty? Want you to so bad, please, want it,” Changbin all but begs, and fuck, does that do something to you.
He starts to separate his hand from yours with the intent to give more attention to your clit, but you squeeze it firmly, not wanting to let him away from you. Instead, you let your opposite hand sink down to give yourself the stimulation you need, making Changbin groan as his eyes follow your movements. There was something about the way you needed more but weren’t willing to let go of his hand for it that made his heart, and cock, swell.
He stutters out all the praises he can, telling you how good you are, how beautiful, how soft and warm and perfect. “Kiss, please, want a kiss,” you whine out as your high looms closer, and he obliges in an instant, greedily swallowing the loud salacious moans coming from you.
Your entire body tenses, like a pulled string on the verge of snapping, and Changbin’s hips stutter in response, sloppily chasing his orgasm with you. Is it supposed to be this euphoric? To be all encompassing, to consume you completely until there was nothing left but this feeling?
The love and pleasure you feel is overwhelming, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel the taut string finally snap. You squeeze his hand once more, grounding yourself as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. Changbin follows you almost instantly, fucking you through your shared highs and whining into your mouth until overstimulation takes hold of him.
His arm unhooks your leg, letting it fall limp to the bed as he lies on top of you, breathless and spent. Despite the exhaustion slowly creeping in, he does his best not to let his body weight crush you underneath him. You’re equally as breathless, mind and body buzzing in a post orgasm haze.
His head rests against your shoulder, eyes closing as he collects himself. Your arms wrap around him, keeping him in a close embrace that Changbin finds both endearing and soothing. A content sigh escapes him as he listens to your breathing soften, a gentle calm that beckons him to fall asleep.
But despite how his body screams at him for rest, he wants to take care of you first. So he lifts his head, giving you a small kiss as he lets his softening length slip out of you. “Let’s clean you up,” Changbin says as he wraps his arms around you, picking you up from the bed effortlessly.
You can't help but squeak in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck for support as he walks to the bathroom. You always thought you weighed too much to be princess carried by anyone, but if anyone was going to prove you wrong, it would be Changbin.
He sets you down on the counter carefully before he reaches behind you to wet a cloth. He wipes between your legs carefully, making sure there is no discomfort or sting as he does. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he says softly as his hand travels over the nail indentations left behind on your thigh.
“I didn’t even feel it,” you admit as your eyes follow the path his hand travels. You were so lost in everything else Changbin was making you feel that the usual tinge of pain you’d feel from nails digging in your skin didn’t even register.
Besides that, part of you had to admit that you kind of liked it; it was proof of your time together, and having his mark etched on your skin was both comforting and exciting. You look up at his face to still see a subtle expression of concern, so you reach your hand out to his face, beckoning him to look at you.
“You can mark me more if you’d like. I want to be reminded of where you touched me.” Changbin blinks for a moment, dick unceremoniously twitching before a smile spreads across his features. “Yeah? Want everyone to know you’re mine?”
You nod with a smile of your own, and God, if his body wasn’t screaming at him to sleep he’d make you fall apart under him again, right here and now. “I’ll make sure I mark you up good next time then, love.” He takes a step back, tossing the soiled wash rag into the laundry bin and letting you use the bathroom as he washes his hands.
When you’re done, he scoops you back up in his arms, a small protest leaving your lips. You insisted that you were fine, could walk on your own, but the slightest wobble of your legs was all Changbin needed to see to decide you needed to be escorted back to bed. He sets you down carefully before crawling in next to you, his arms wasting no time to wrap around you and keep you close.
You sigh softly, head burrowing into the crook of his neck as you relax in his embrace. It’s a serenity you’ve never experienced before, being in his arms like this after sharing such an intimate moment together. For the first time in years, you had someone that made you feel safe, loved, and protected.
It doesn’t take long for Changbin to fall asleep, and you watch him for a few moments, listening to the soft sound of his measured breathing. You don't know what you'll do in the future, what will happen when you have to make a confession to your brother about what Changbin means to you, but there is one thing you do know– Changbin will never be the person you turn away from.
To say Changbin is exhausted when he returns to work on Monday would be an understatement. But it was a good kind of exhausted; the kind you’d feel after completing a marathon or climbing a mountain, he imagines.
He’s never been so happy to be tired in his entire life, he thinks. Even as the caffeine from his copious amounts of coffee leaves his system, his joy carries him through the work day.
The Saturday night he spent with you after having dinner with Hyunjin made him elated beyond words. The closeness and sensuality of your evening was something he’d be craving for so long. He missed the feeling of mutual love, of intimacy and closeness with someone else. And you were so perfect, so lovely and stunning in both mind and body, that he felt lucky to be loved by you.
He took you once more the following Sunday, whispering sweet nothings to you as his hands touched and squeezed any part of your body they could reach. You showered together, spent the afternoon cuddling on the sofa while watching movies until he ordered dinner. He (begrudgingly) let you leave back to your apartment as the sun began to sink further in the horizon, though he made you promise you’d be back later in the week.
When he went to bed a little while later, all he could think about was how it felt having you next to him, wrapped in his arms with a loving and serene expression. He missed you, of course he missed you, and somehow it made a smile stretch across his face.
How long had it been since he felt like this? Giddy with love, always thinking about the other person, craving their presence for just a few moments longer, until eventually you can’t imagine your life without them always near you.
Changbin wanted that with you, wanted a future where you are always with him. To wake up to you next to him every morning and cuddle in bed with you every night. He thought about taking you on surprise dates, spoiling you with delicious meals and nights out in the city. He imagined you waiting at home for him after a draining work day, and how your presence would allow it to all melt away.
You’d plant soothing kisses against his skin as you help him into the warm bath, letting him unwind while you took care of him. You’d take dote on him sweetly, tell him how much you love him, and he’d do the same for you without question. Anything you wanted, anything you needed that he could offer, he would give to you. Because he loves you, and you love him, and that’s all he needs to be happy.
And it didn’t take long for that inward joy to spread to his outside features; Changbin is a bit of an open book when it comes to love and affection after all. Jeongin had texted you that same morning, asking what on earth you did to make Changbin appear so elated, and it made you giggle as you imagined how his coworkers must’ve felt seeing their normally stoic and serious chief being so delighted that he just couldn’t hide it.
It was no secret to Jeongin that whatever you were doing with Changbin was real on your end. He’s watched you suffer through enough pretending and agony to know what genuine happiness looks like on your features.
On the days you come to pick up Jeongin to spend time with after work, your face always lights up when Changbin waves to you. The small giggle you let out when Changbin checks around himself to make sure no one is looking before he blows you a kiss is one Jeongin has rarely ever heard.
The both of you are so obviously in love that Jeongin would almost be sick if he wasn’t so relieved to see you smiling like that again. As far as he remembers, the last time he saw such a genuine and bashful smile on you was when you were still kids, untainted by the ugliness of the world and its harsh realities.
He was aware of the tumultuous life you led, and the mental toll it took on you; so to see you happier these days was priceless to him. But he also knew what you led you here, what you would eventually have to do, and that made him scared for you. He didn't want to see you lose the happiness you attained after so long.
“When are you going to talk to Chan-hyung?” Jeongin asks during one of his visits to your apartment, weeks later. You freeze, and he almost feels bad for asking as he watches the way your expression changes into one of dread. But it's not something he can avoid asking; he needs to hear your answer.
He needs to know if you have a plan, and what it entails; he wants to help you. "I.. don't know," you answer honestly after a moment. You spent a lot of time agonizing over it, what you should do and what you should say, but nothing ever seemed right.
The outcome you hoped for, where your brother didn't hate you and your life with Changbin is untainted and perfect, seemed so impossible. You forget for a while, when Changbin sweetly holds you in his arms and reminds you how much he loves you, but the dread always returns.
You sit in your apartment, alone and afraid for the future every single day. You don't want to lose what you have, don't want to feel the absence of those you love, but maybe that's what is meant for you. Maybe that's what you deserve after spending your adulthood the way you have.
Do the people who lie and hurt others willingly deserve happiness? Even though it's never what you wanted, even though you felt like you had no choice, did it taint you irrevocably? Did the universe care that you were trying to change your life, did your apologies even matter? Maybe your mistakes doomed you to a miserable fate long before you could even understand the implications of them.
"I'd help you, you know," Jeongin reminds you, and you try your best to thank him with a smile. Chan may be a brother to him, but you're his sister just as much, and he'd always help you if he could. He didn't want you to sacrifice your happiness for the sake of someone else; you deserved to have something good after all this time.
You usually try to hide your feelings, not wanting to burden the boy you consider your little brother with your troubles. But you're not kids anymore, and Jeongin isn't blind– he can easily tell when you're distressed, and he can help you if you let him. At least, that's how he feels.
"I know Innie, and I appreciate it, I just.. I'm scared, I guess," you say after some time. "Chan-hyung won't hate you. He might be upset, but he won't ever hate you," he responds, and you let out a shaky breath. He won't, right? You're his sister, he loves you, he's supported you before in your choices– so it won't change now, right?
"I don't know what to say to him.. Every time I try to find the words, I feel like I'm stuck. Like everything is lodged in my throat and I can't speak no matter how much I want to," your lip quivers as you try to hold back the tears while you speak.
You've thought about this so many times, over and over again, and it hurts. And you don't want to cry, you do enough of that on your own in the privacy of your bedroom, but the tears still threaten to pour out of you despite it.
"You don't have to admit you love Changbin necessarily..? Just remind him you left for a reason, and that coming back to it has been bad for you. Tell him that you tried your best for him but you can't do it anymore. I think he'll understand." You swallow and nod as you listen to his advice. "And you know I support you, right? And I like Changbin, I think he's an amazing guy. I want you to stay with him."
"Really? You do? You're not mad at him over.. you know, family stuff?" you ask, suddenly perking up a bit. "Yeah, well, I.." Jeongin hesitates for a moment. He has his own feelings he's been trying to work out, but if you're going to share with him then he should share with you too. If you're going to be brave and face what is hard for you, then so should he.
"I have my doubts about.. staying in the family lately." He finally admits for the first time. He still remembers the day he was officially initiated in, how you congratulated him earnestly even though you were concerned for him.
Before that day, you always told him he had a choice. He didn't have to join you, he didn't have to be involved in any of the terrible things that this life often entails. Jeongin could always tell you cared about him and wanted him safe above all else, but you still accepted his decision even when it saddened you.
You only ever looked out for him, wanted better for him, but he joined anyway because he thought it was the best way to stay with the people he loved most. You and Chan were real family in his eyes; he didn't care about blood relation or who his parents were, he just wanted to go hand in hand with his siblings. Wherever the two of you went, he would follow– that's what he decided back then.
But he saw what it did to you. You always wore a brave face of course, but he wasn't oblivious to your pain. And he met good people over the years, especially in his new environment on the force with Changbin. Similarly to you, he met people he didn't want to hurt or betray. It made him question what he knew and what he felt until now, and if he had really made the right decision those years ago when he turned 18.
Maybe it was naive, but there was a part of him that hoped he could one day become a genuine member of the police. His current credentials were falsified of course, but maybe when he left the family he could make them real. Move out of the city, settle somewhere small and attend the academy there, rise his way up earnestly until one day he could meet the friends he made in Seoul as a true version of himself.
He never seriously considered it before now because he felt like that's not what his father wanted for him. His father was unyieldingly loyal to your own, he always emphasized the importance of dedicating his all to the prosperity of the family. Jeongin always felt like he should follow that example, and for the majority of his life he was glad to.
But as time went on, and he got older and more experienced in life, he realized more and more how his view of things were warped. The teenage version of himself who idolized this life was understandably naive– there was no way for him to truly grasp or understand what he was getting into back then.
There was a part of Jeongin that felt guilty whenever he thought about leaving. Until his death, his father raised him to uphold the values of the mafia, and he trusted that Jeongin would make him proud. He's changed a lot over the years though, and for a lot of different reasons.
The difficult reality was part of it, but so were you and Changbin. Even before you met the police chief, your life was already improved so much by leaving. You loved your new life, your apartment. your job, and your friends. Your new normal was peaceful, you were healing, and Jeongin was so happy for you.
He didn't realize he wanted the same thing right away. It happened in steps; a hard loss here, an exhausting day there, moments that slowly began to leave him weary. At first he thought it was just the exhaustion anyone would feel– after all, no one enjoys being stressed out or hurting others.
It was normal to want a break, or to spend some time away. There was nothing unusual about that, so he took it in stride, trusting that it would pass once things began to look up (if they ever did.)
But things changed when he saw your vibrant smile that was so different from the forced one you used to wear, saw the way your eyes sparkled and your voice lifted whenever you saw or talked with Changbin. He watched the real you, the one he knew as a kid that was so bubbly and full of life, return– and that's when he knew he wanted the same thing. A peaceful, happy life.
"I took more after you than Chan-hyung, I guess," Jeongin jokes to make it more lighthearted. He's pleasantly surprised to see it worked, a genuine smile finally cracking on your face. "We're real winners of loyal younger siblings, huh?" you chuckle. It's probably not appropriate to laugh but well.. What else can you do, really?
"You should leave, if you really want to. It took a long time for me to realize it, but there's nothing wrong with wanting better for yourself, and wanting to be happier," you say and Jeongin easily agrees with a smile. "Exactly! Which is why I hope you'll talk to him soon. Get yourself out, and live a happy life with Changbin. You deserve it."
"Well, what about you? What will you do?" you ask and Jeongin pauses while he thinks about it. "I'm not sure.. I mean, I'm sure I want to leave, I just don't know when I should. He's my brother and I love him. I don't want him to be upset by us both leaving at the same time.. Maybe I'll bring it up after some time passes?"
It certainly wasn't a bad idea. It'd be good for your brother to heal a bit, and not suffer too much loss at once. "Just make sure you take care of yourself too, okay? Don't push down your needs to make someone else happy," you remind him.
"Of course," he assures you with a smile. "Maybe I can talk to Felix-hyung too. He helped you when you were struggling with this, so I'm sure he'll help me too."
"You should!" you enthusiastically agree. And that might not be a bad idea for you right now too. Felix has always been nothing but kind and supportive, and he offers such good advice. You've always trusted him deeply, and he's honest without being harsh, which is something you really value in him. "I think I will too. It might help me feel better about my talk with Chan if I talk to Felix about it first."
Content with your discussion and your future plans, the rest of Jeongin's visit to your apartment is lighthearted. And honestly, you feel a weight lifted off your chest knowing Jeongin is on your side. He's always understood you, but you still had this irrational fear that this time would be the exception.
You were worried that maybe he hated Changbin for his role in the arrest of Minho, and when he realized your feelings for him, that he would turn his back on you. And you still have that fear when it comes to other members of the family, but you feel much more reassured now.
It's encouraging to know that you won't be alone in this, and that you'll have support from someone who loves you. You can only hope that all your future talks will go as well as they have today.
It's another few weeks later when Felix finally has a free moment to stop by your apartment for a talk. You told him after the night Jeongin visited, mostly in vague terms, that you wanted to talk about Changbin and your job, and Felix promised to come as soon as he was able.
He assumed that you were dealing with something serious, and were seeking help vaguely because that's what you typically needed to do. You often dealt with dangerous men, or sensitive information, and going in full detail over text wasn't the wisest decision.
Particularly because if anyone got arrested, texts are among the first things looked at to find evidence. It was important in this line of work to keep your secrets and information close, and only talk about them aloud in a private space.
He's looking around your apartment attentively after he steps through the door. He knew where you lived, as did Chan, but this was his first time actually being here. Felix and your brother were respectful of the space you needed when you initially left, giving you your distance and never intruding in your space. They drove by on occasion, looking around the area and making sure you were safe when you first moved in, but never anything more than that.
"It's a nice place," he comments idly, hoping a bit of small talk will ease you into the conversation you want to have. Felix knew from personal experience that you have a hard time having serious conversations due to your anxiety, so he likes to try to ease the tension any way he can.
Truthfully, you are nervous, but you feel almost equally assured. You have no reason to doubt that Felix will understand and help you as he always has. You move to sit on the sofa, and Felix follows, sitting in a chair across from you. "I've decided I want to tell Chan I'm done with this job. I'm sorry to him and Minho, but I don't want to do it anymore."
Felix can tell you've changed a lot from the person you once were from the way you speak. You sound confident in your choice, and it was only a year ago that wanting to make a decision like this would leave you an anxious mess.
He could remember the way your voice trembled then, and how you needed to be told your feelings were valid. You sought out his advice, spent a long time going back and forth as you agonized over your sense of responsibility and wanting to live your own life. He can't sense any of that now though; you've clearly grown a lot, and you don't need his assurance anymore.
"It seems like you've thought about this a lot already," Felix says, though he isn't surprised. You never wanted to be brought back to do this kind of work in the first place, so as it became clear that getting information out of Changbin would be difficult, Felix knew this would be the inevitable outcome. After all, what's the point of staying in a fake relationship if it's not necessary?
It's better to get out early, than stick it out for longer than needed and deal with the complications that would come with "breaking up" after a prolonged time together. And besides that, he was sure it must be hard for you to keep trying when this was something you wanted to leave behind; none of it was a surprise to him in the slightest.
"I'm not sure what Chan will do after you leave Changbin since this was his last idea though.. Not that it will be your concern, of course! Just do what you have to, and don't worry about what we will do next," Felix continues.
"I'm not leaving Changbin," you interject, and Felix pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. "But you said you were done? What are you..?" his voice trails off as the realization sets in. But that can't be true, surely you're not.. right?
"Noona, do you.. love him?" "Yes," you answer easily; so easily that Felix almost can't process it. You said it so assuredly, like there was no need for you to think about it. "I love him, and I'm not leaving him."
Felix has known you for many years now, seen you through your best and worst moments, nearly all your ups and downs. But this is a first for him; you sound so sure. He's seen you suffer through countless fake relationships, or extremely toxic real ones, so he's never seen you have such a determination to be with someone.
"Noona, I support you, you know I do, but.." Felix trails off, his expression one of deep concern. There's nothing he wants more than for you to live the serene life you aspire towards, with someone who makes you happy and cares for you. He never wanted you to be dragged back into this to begin with, having expressed to Chan more than once his doubts and concerns.
But Chan was– no, is, desperate for something to come of your help. And Felix is prepared to deal with what Chan might feel from you quitting without obtaining anything, to help him create a new plan, but he's worried about what this revelation will do to your brother on a personal level.
Chan is a good man but there are times that Felix is concerned for him following a dark path he can't come back from. He's not sure whether it's the suspected betrayal, the loss of his second in command, or the years of piled on hardship as leader that has led to Chan changing recently, but he doesn't have the same tenderness he once had.
Felix does his best to lessen the burden, to ease his worries and take the place of Minho in all the ways that he can, but the strain is still there, and it only grows more as time continues to pass. But he recognizes how selfish it is to not want you to do something purely because it will mean he has to deal with something difficult.
How many years have you been selfless for their sake? How many times did you set your feelings aside for the sake of someone else? How many times did you willingly keep yourself in harm's way just to give Chan what he wanted or needed? Would it be right or fair for them to ask you to give up this happiness you've finally obtained just to further their own agenda?
Felix knew the answer to that is easily no. You should be allowed to have your happiness after all this time, to love who you want without worry and not be dragged back in the moment someone else deems it a necessary sacrifice for some "greater purpose."
But none of that is up to him, and he's fearful that your brother's mental state will cloud his judgment. Pain changes a person, oftentimes irrevocably. It can make the choices you'd otherwise never consider seem like the only path forward, and he fears that he can't stop Chan from continuing down the dark road he’s walking on.
"I know that Chan won't be happy. There might even be a chance he never forgives me for this, but I'm willing to accept that. I need to live my life how I want it to be lived. I'm done accommodating for everyone but myself. I hope he will understand, but even if he doesn't this is the decision I've made. And I hope you will support me too," you say, resolve clear in your voice.
Felix still remembers the you of over a year ago vividly, who was so scared to make a decision for herself that it agonized her to try. It's amazing, truly, how much you seem to have changed since that day. You're here, standing on your own two feet, fighting for what you want unapologetically.
"I'm with you, without a doubt. I've always wanted you to be happy, and I'll talk to Chan too if I need to," Felix responds, offering you a reassuring smile as he does. "That means a lot to me Lixie, thank you." He then offers you a hug, which you gladly accept.
It pains you to think that your brother might not understand your feelings, but you realize more and more how much support you have. You don't have to go through this on your own; you have your friends and your found family by your side through everything. No matter the outcome of your talk with Chan, you feel like you'll be able to walk away with your head held the highest it's ever been.
The rest of your afternoon following your conversation with Felix was spent with you planning your approach with Chan. What you should say and how you should say it, how to go about asking him to put any feelings of distaste for Changbin aside.
You'll request him to only talk to you as a brother catching up with and caring for his sister from that moment on, and never again for the purpose of a job or about his mafia life and dealings. It used to be extremely difficult for you to put together what you wanted to say, but talking with Jeongin and Felix has helped greatly.
And there's a stress that comes with planning all this out, but at the same time there's a solace. Putting yourself first has never been something that came easy to you, but underneath the bittersweet emotions is an immense pride for yourself. You hope more than anything that things will go well for you, but you can take pride in the fact that you did all you could for yourself if it doesn't.
A text from Changbin pulls you from your thoughts, and you smile upon seeing that he's home and asking if you still want to come over for the weekend (which you obviously do.) You confirm your plans, telling him to go ahead and eat because you already had dinner yourself, and that you'd be on your way soon.
It doesn't take you long to get your things together and in a bag, as you basically have it down to a science given how often you do it. You let him know you're on your way as soon as you're done putting your things in the car, smiling softly to yourself as you make the modest drive to his house.
Changbin pulls you in his arms the moment he opens his door for you, making you squeak in surprise before you settle into his touch. "Are you okay Binnie?" you ask as you wrap your own arms around him. His hug is tight, urgent, in a way it never has been before.
"Hard day," he mumbles into your hair, keeping you wrapped in a tight embrace. You let him stay like that for a few moments, figuring he needs it, before you pull away to look at him.
"Why don't you let me put my things down, and then we can talk about it if you want, okay?" He nods as he lets you go, and you quickly move to set your things down in his room.
He follows you over, waiting patiently for you to join him after he flops down onto his bed. He falls practically limp in your arms after you settle, head resting on your chest as you run a hand up and down his back. "What's bothering you?" you ask softly, listening attentively as he lets out an exhale before starting.
"This case, it's just.. difficult. I've been working on it for so long, but it always feels like we don't get anywhere with it. Like for every step forward, we go another two back. I don't know what else I should do, I feel like I've tried everything."
You run your fingers through his hair gently as he pours his feelings out to you, offering kind reassurances and reminding him of your support. He's always been open about his feelings to some degree, but it was like you unlocked another part of his heart since the day the two of you confessed your love for each other.
Due to what he'd been through before, there was still a part of him that was scared to share too much about work, positive or otherwise. Even when he was assured that you were the one for him, that he wanted to share the entirety of the rest of his life with you, it wasn't easy to break the shackles that were holding him back. But since that day, slowly but surely he's been able to heal even more.
Changbin always makes sure he does his best to keep a proper balance, to make time for the two of you to spend together and take necessary breaks to unwind and recharge, but it feels good to know he doesn't have to keep silent about a big part of his life anymore.
He trusts you, he believes in your words and your care, and he knows that you're understanding and supportive of his ambitions. He loves that he can come home after a day at the station and share his thoughts with you.
You celebrate with him on the good days and treat him gently on the bad. You never make him feel like he needs to lock his life away, and in turn he makes sure you never feel forgotten or unloved. His career is important to him, and always will be, but so are you, and he'll make sure you never question that.
He looks up at you as you continue to hold and caress him, feeling a rush of emotion wash over him. He loves you so much. He's thought it a million times, but he never stops feeling lucky to have you. You never judge him, think he's too clingy or too silly, never make him feel shunned or like he needs to hide away.
You accept him for all that he is, unconditionally. After the devastation he felt in the past, Changbin began to feel like he'd never find the kind of love he hoped for. That maybe it was only destined for those that God favored, and somewhere along the way he made a mistake that debarred him of that chance at happiness.
But then he met you, and it was like everything fell into place. So sweet and beautiful, so accepting and with so much love to give. Your smile easily eclipsed the other beauties of the world in his eyes. No scenic nature view or star-filled sky would ever compare, not in a million years. Would it be cliche to compare you to an angel?
That's truly what you were to him though– an angel that saved him from the depths of his loneliness. An angel that helped him heal the wounds he couldn't care for alone. An angel that allowed him to trust unconditionally again. He trusted you from the bottom of his heart, loved you from the deepest recesses of his soul.
It doesn't take long for you to notice the way Changbin is staring at you, his eyes reflecting a love that words couldn't hope to describe. He looks at you like you hold the entire world in your hands, like you're the sun and he's a planet destined to forever be in your orbit, like he'd pluck the stars out of they sky for you if they were only in his reach.
No matter how many times you see it, the look he holds never fails to make your heart race. He leans forward suddenly, capturing your lips in a kiss that is simultaneously romantic as it is incredibly needy. There's so much passion behind it that it leaves you breathless in a matter of seconds.
It's almost relentless how much he kisses you, leaving you only the briefest of moments to catch a breath before he's back on you. His hands feel equally as desperate in their touch, squeezing and caressing every inch of you as they roam the expanse of your body. "Binnie..?" you let you when he finally parts long enough for you to catch your breath effectively.
"Just love you so much," he responds as he begins to kiss his way down your neck, "want to show you." Your stomach flips at his words, and part of you wants to let him, but instead you reach your hand down to his face, urging him to look back up at you. "You had a hard day, let me take care of you instead."
Changbin blinks for a moment as the words process, a slight flush settling over him as it settles in him. He wasn't expecting it, but he's certainly not against it. He easily allows your positions to swap, with Changbin propped up against the pillows and you straddling him.
He is usually the one taking the lead in your intimate moments, but he also loves times like this, where you are on top of him showering him with affection. You kiss him with the same fervor he had towards you, the only difference being the addition of your tongue.
He lets out a soft groan of approval when your tongue first enters his mouth, indulging in the feeling of your hands and tongue exploring him. You reach for the hem of his shirt, urging him to help you remove it from his body. He immediately reaches for yours as well, tugging it off you in a rush he normally doesn't have, but that you don't mind in the slightest.
Changbin is always eager to touch you, but he feels almost carnal in his craving for you now. He wouldn't say he ever gets enough of you in the first place, but it feels amplified now; like no touch will be anywhere near enough to momentarily satiate him.
All he knows, all he has, is want. A want that is fueled by love above all else, almost saccharine in nature. He craves you this badly because he loves you, it's as simple as that. As long as you are against him, touching his skin and hearing your voice in his ears, he'll be the happiest he's ever been.
You kiss every inch of him as you make your way down his body, every curve and every dip, not with the intent to tease but to show how much you love and care for him. Changbin can't help but giggle when you kiss his soft stomach, nose scrunching in the adorable way you love so much.
He watches you with bated breath and eager eyes as you continue lower and reach the waistband of his pants. You don't waste any time pulling them down in one go, along with his underwear, and letting his cock free of its confines.
You recognize the look in his eyes, the near desperation, and you know how bad he needs you, so you won't make him wait. He always took such good care of you, being attentive to every want and fulfilling every need, so you'll do the same for him gladly.
You spend a few moments planting kisses on the sensitive flesh of his thighs, watching as his cock twitches in response. Changbin's eyes are locked on you, hands tightening their grip on the bed sheets as he awaits what he wants most. No matter how intense the fire in him blazes, he'll be as patient as you need him to be, wait as long as you want him to.
If this were another day, you'd spend more time appreciating his body and watch his resolve to hold out crack under each added kiss and touch, but you don't want to deny him what he's craving any longer than you already have.
He swallows when he sees your tongue stick out, licking up the pre-cum that has dribbled down his length before you wrap your lips around him. Changbin lets out a breathy moan as you sink lower on him, mouth open wide to accommodate his thickness.
He reaches his hands out to you, one tangling into your hair while the other searches for your hand. You bring your hand to him, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. He's always loved the intimacy of your hands being locked together; it gives him an unmatched feeling of tenderness and love, a constant reminder of your warm presence.
Your pace is slow at first, allowing your jaw to relax before you attempt to take him completely in your mouth. It takes all your power to suppress your gag reflex when his cock first hits the back of your throat, but the loud groan he lets out when you swallow around him encourages you to keep doing your best for him.
He curses when your pace quickens, tongue caressing the underside of cock as your head bobs up and down. The strain on your jaw becomes painful, and your eyes are watering from all the effort, but you're determined to give him your all.
His hold tightens, causing a slight sting to your scalp, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Everytime your normally gentle lover becomes so lost in the pleasure that he can't help himself but to hold you roughly, it ignites a fire in your belly.
You can tell he's getting close from the way his breath quickens and cock twitches against your tongue. "Fuck, God, fuck-" he groans as his head falls back. He squeezes your hand in an attempt to ground himself, and it takes all his self control not to thrust into your mouth.
You decide to double your efforts, taking him fast and swallowing over, over, and over again. Saliva drips from your lips, creating a messy puddle in his lap and salacious, wet sounds to ring in Changbin's ears. "Gonna cum, fuck, so good, 'm gonna cum," he pants out his warning, body hot and chest heaving.
His cum shoots down your throat in bursts that nearly makes you choke. Your tongue coaxes him through his orgasm as you swallow every drop of his release. You don't separate until you're sure he's finished, mouth releasing him with a small pop.
You look up at him, your beautiful and perfect boyfriend in his post orgasm haze, feeling yourself clench at the sight. No matter how many times you see Changbin breathless and flushed with sweat lingering on his brow, it never fails to make your stomach do cartwheels.
You crawl up his body, moving in to slot your lips against his. Changbin lets out a sound of approval, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling your body flush against his. "Love you so much," he mumbles against your lips between kisses. One arm keeps you close while he lets the other move, hand snaking its way between your thighs to feel your drenched heat.
"Baby.. all this just from helping me feel good?" he smiles as he asks, looking at you with sparkling eyes. He could never hope to hide how excited and elated he gets from the feeling of you being soaked for him.
"Always Binnie, love making you feel good," you say with a soft smile before you capture him in another kiss. You know very well what he wants to do next– he's going to ask if he can make you feel good too. And with Changbin, that means pouring all his love and care into you, until you are weak in the knees and too exhausted to move an inch.
But you can't let him do that tonight; you have other plans in mind. "Wanna do more for you Binnie," you say between breaths, "wanna ride your cock."
"Fuck, please, it's all yours," he groans in response, your words having an instant effect on his body. You stand to remove the rest of your clothes, and Changbin doesn't take his eyes away for even a second. He takes his cock in his hand, stroking it back to full stiffness as he watches you undress– it's hard not to writhe and whine from how sensitive he is now, but it'll be more than worth it.
You shoot him a smile as you crawl back onto his lap, one that he reciprocates easily while the eager glint in his eye grows ever stronger. He separates his hand from his cock, allowing your own hand to take its place and align it with your entrance.
There's a sharp gasp from you as you start to lower yourself on his cock, the lack of preparation instantly causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. You'd hoped being completely soaked would be enough to ease the process of Changbin entering you, but you should've known it wouldn't be enough to make it painless.
"You're so good baby, doing so well, keep going love, you can do it, I've got you," he can't help but praise and encourage you despite the fact that the focus is supposed to be on him. He knows the stretch can be a lot for you even with prep, so watching you do your best to take him without it makes him want to shower you with all the praise he has to offer.
Each inch taken as you sink down causes another whimper from you and a low moan from Changbin. You're clenching so tight it'd be enough to send him into delirium if he wasn't so focused on making sure you're okay.
"Good baby, you're so good," he tells you when you are finally sat completely down on him, your hips flush with his own. He places soft kisses to your skin, letting you adjust and steady your breathing. He runs his hands up and down your plush thighs, giving gentle squeezes while admiring the way you look.
You're always so pretty when you're flushed and breathless like this, always feel so good in his hands and sound so sweet. He's addicted to you he's well aware, but how could he not be? Soft and sexy you, every curve and bend perfect, an Aphrodite all his own.
"Take your time, there's no rush love," Changbin plants comforting kisses against your face and neck as he speaks. You can feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, silently pleading for friction, but he encourages you to take your time despite it.
Slowly but surely however, the stinging subsides and you can feel the tension in your body begin to recede. Your first grind is slow and experimental, but it still causes a sudden sharp inhale to leave Changbin. Your hands grip his broad shoulders tightly, using them for stability as you try to find what the both of you will like the best.
A string of expletives leave his lips when you find what you like and begin to move in earnest. You've just started but it already feels so impossibly good, he can't manage to stay quiet even if he wanted to (and besides that, he knows you prefer him vocal.)
Changbin pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see your expressions with no obstruction. He watches you, mesmerized and full of adoration. Everything, from the roll of your hips to the bounce of your breasts and the lustful glaze over your eyes, he commits it all to his memory. He never wants to forget how devotedly you took care of him, and how breathtakingly beautiful you looked doing it.
You move to hold his face in your hands, kissing him with messy fervor as you bounce on his cock with more urgency, fueled by your desire to make him cum again. He holds your hips, helping you keep your rhythm steady while he squeezes the meat of it.
He can't help the way his eyes roll back, the way your walls clench tightly around him with your tongue in his mouth making him feel almost lightheaded. Each noise emitted from one of you is swallowed by the other, desperate moans and whines muffled and drowned out by the sound of your skin slapping against his.
You eventually pull away, chest heaving as you finally allow more air to pass through your lungs. Your thighs burn with exertion, pace faltering as your legs begin to go weak, but you refuse to relent. Changbin can see the exhaustion settling over you though, and while he appreciates your determination to push through it, he's more than happy to take over for you.
"Hold onto me baby, gonna help you," Changbin says, and you comply quickly, once again holding onto his shoulders for support. He takes complete control, using the strength in his arms to bounce you on his cock while he thrusts up into you.
You gasp and moan loudly, stars bursting in your vision. You can barely form a coherent thought with the way he's pistoning into your sweet spot from below, the angle and speed making you dizzy with pleasure. "B-Binnie, please-" you whine loudly, nails digging into his shoulders as your head slumps forward, "feels so good, so good, wanna cum, please- "
"Cum on my cock pretty, you can do that for me, can't you? Wanna make your Binnie happy and cum all over him?" His words send electricity through you, jolting you with a force you've never felt before now.
You cum with a loud cry, eyes rolling back as you shake and quiver on top of him. You're gasping and crying through your high, his quick and precise thrusts dragging it on for what feels like an eternity. "Good girl, that's a good girl," he praises you through it, pace only slowing for the smallest of moments as he speaks to you.
"Don't let go baby, gonna flip you over now,” He warns, and you're on your back in a second, Changbin wasting no time to slip back inside your warmth and continue his fast pace. You're breathless, body on fire, and impossibly overstimulated, but it feels so good. You claw at him desperately as he pounds into you, the insurmountable pleasure building back up just as fast as it faded.
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying in vain to contain the myriad of noises erupting from you. Changbin's hips begin to stutter, his moans quickly turning into breathy whines in your ear. You let out a shuddering moan when his fingers find your clit, moving in desperate circles to get you to cum with him.
"One more love, give me one more, cum with me," Changbin's pleading tone accompanying all else that you are feeling sends you down a spiral; your body jolts and tenses, your orgasm washing over you in fervent waves.
The way you look writhing and squirming underneath him, lewd noises uncontrollably tumbling from your lips while you squeeze tightly around him sends him careening into his own peak. You reach for the nape of his neck, pulling him in closer for another messy kiss as you both ride the tail end of your combined highs together.
Changbin collapses next to you shortly after, both of you doing your best to steady your breathing and calm your pounding hearts. You turn your head after a moment to look at him, and see his gaze already turned to you. His look is one of pure, unadulterated love and joy, entirely for you.
You always flush red when he looks at you like that, and he laughs softly when you shyly turn away. You could look him in the eyes no problem when his dick was down your throat and when he was fucking you into oblivion, but now you're like this over a little affectionate look? Embarrassing. But he loves that about you, and he never stops finding it cute and endearing.
"Come here, honey," Changbin says as he pulls you to him. He smiles at you, a smile that is as warm as it is bright, as he wraps you in his arms. "Thank you for tonight baby, you make me feel so much better, my sweet girl," he beams as he praises you.
Part of you feels like you should be used to it by now, but you don't think you ever will be. "I love you Binnie, you don't have to thank me for anything," you reply, a bit more timidly than you'd prefer. He shakes his head, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before he continues speaking. "Of course I have to thank you! How else will you know how much I appreciate you?"
It's your turn to smile at him this time, an adoring twinkle painting your expression. He always warms you with his words, his sweetness unparalleled by any confection. You settle into his touch, resting your head against the crook of his neck and shoulder, nuzzling in close. You stay like that for a few moments, just wrapped in each other's comforting embrace, before you hear Changbin let out a small exhale. "Y/N.. there's something I want to ask you."
"Is something still bothering you?" you ask as you glance up at him. There's a slight flush to his cheeks, paired with a nervous expression. He shakes his head quickly, taking a small moment to gather himself before he continues.
"We are together most days, you know.. And whenever you're gone all I can think about is how much I miss you being next to me. And I always think about what it'll be like to come home from work and have you already here, greeting me every night with that cute smile of yours I love so much, and–"
Changbin realizes he's rambling and getting ahead of himself, so he cuts himself off, swallowing pensively as he tries to calm his nerves. "A-Anyways, maybe it's too soon and you don't want to yet, but what I'm asking is.. Do you want to move in with me?"
There's a silence that shortly follows, simply because you can't believe he's even asking. "Y-You.. want me to live here? ..With you?" Changbin nods without hesitation, the certainty clear in his eyes, "Yes, I want you here with me. I always, always, want you here with me."
You blink at him, your mind racing as his worlds settle in. He's always said sweet things to you, about how he misses you when you have to leave and how he can't wait to see you again every time you leave, but despite that, you're still astounded. "You don't have to say yes if you're not ready though! I won't hold it against you," he replies quickly, seemingly trying not to make you feel pressured to say yes if you're not sure about it.
But you love him so much, there's no doubt in your mind that you want to spend forever with him. Every moment, good or bad, you want to have Changbin at your side. You still need to talk to Chan, to make him understand that you're leaving your past behind you for good, but you feel nothing but optimism and hope.
If he doesn't understand your love for Changbin you'll make him understand, you'll put your all into making your dream life with Changbin a reality. And knowing how much he loves you, that he truly means it when he says he wants you with him every moment of every day is enough to fuel you through any hardship you might face. He'll always be here for you, with open arms and a cute, goofy smile to cheer you through anything.
"I want to! Really, I want to," you give him a smile so bright it immediately melts all his worries away. He hugs you tightly, his happiness manifesting in a series of elated giggles. You share in the feeling, giggling along with him and kissing his cutely scrunched nose.
"I love you so much, Y/N," he says as he plants a series of kisses on your face. He meant it before when he said he'll always be there for you, that he'd never leave you, and now it's a promise that runs even deeper. Always with you, weathering any storm, hand in hand– that’s what he wants to have with you.
"I love you too Binnie, so much," you giggle out between his kisses that are beginning to tickle. And that's how you spend your night, laying in each other's arms, excitedly talking and giggling about your future together, knowing that no past happiness could ever compare to the joy you feel now.
The time that passes since the night that Changbin asked you to move into his house has felt like a blur of planning and sorting. Thankfully, there's not much to decide when it comes to what to do about your job; moving in with Changbin only adds an extra few minutes to your commute, which you don't mind making every day.
Having to wake up earlier in the mornings from now on was a sacrifice you were more than willing to make if it meant always seeing him when you woke up. So, in recent days, you spent most of your free time sorting your things.
You started small, combing every inch of your apartment for things you no longer wanted and putting them in a donation box to be given away. Next came packing things you wanted to keep, but wouldn't need in the immediate future, such as clothes that don't fit for the season and childhood memorabilia.
The progress is a bit slower than you'd like given everyone's busy schedules, but you are still happy with the progress. You're happy to have help from Changbin or Jeongin when they're free, but you aren't upset when they can't make the time.
According to them, everyone has been dealing with an extra workload at the station lately, with some officers often needing to stay behind long past their usual hours to get things moving on an important (and stressful) case.
Changbin has told you about it before– a difficult, long running case that he hopes he can finally bring to a close. Apparently there has been a new breakthrough, but there's a high chance of their progress stagnating again if things don't proceed the way he wants it to.
As chief of police, he has a lot of responsibility to oversee the process and make sure every operation runs as smoothly as possible. It takes up a lot of his time these days, but you know how important it is for him to see an important case like this through, so you don't at all fault him at all.
Jeongin, as a low ranking officer, doesn't have the same responsibilities as Changbin, but he still doesn't have much spare time due to the mafia family responsibilities he has after his time at the station.
Your brother has apparently been preparing for a large-scale operation that requires everyone to chip in as much as possible. According to Jeongin and Felix, Chan has been planning for months to raid the base of the enemy mafia he was supposed to make an alliance with, and everything he needed to conduct said raid is finally coming together.
They said there was no rat on their side of course, but Chan can't just take their words at face value. It's more important to him to obtain that truth with his own hands, and if necessary he'll make his amends later.
In his mind, it's better to be wrong and ask for forgiveness when the fire he set quells, rather than to play into whatever plans they may have to ruin him by being trusting and complacent. No one he has planted in key places has made progress on discovering who betrayed him or how he can get Minho out of prison, and it seems that this is his final gambit.
There are a fair amount of people within the family who don't agree with the decision, as it's dangerous and will only invite even more hostility between the two families, while others revel in the anticipated chaos and can't wait to get their hands dirty.
Personally, you are among the people who don't agree with this course of action, but all you can really do is try to convince Chan to change his course of action before you leave– it's up to him whether he wants to listen or not. Though at this point, you're not sure if you'll be able to talk to him before it happens in the first place.
He initially thought up this plan months ago, but he recognized the risks and he did his best to explore the safer avenues first. He knew they would take longer, and that it could possibly leave him no further than when this began, but he wasn’t the type to needlessly put those he loves in danger.
But now that so much time has passed, and it’s become clearer to him that this raid will likely be his last chance to get what he wants, he needs to put his all into making sure it goes flawlessly. The final preparations are the most crucial of all, which hasn't left him with much time to spare to talk to you.
You kept texting and calling, asking him when he'll have a spare moment so you can talk, but it often went unseen, sometimes for days at a time. "If you have information to deliver, give it to Felix and he'll get it back to me," he replied once, making it very clear that he wouldn't make time for anything that would distract him from his planning.
It saddened you more than anything, as you were hoping to have everything put behind you before you moved in with Changbin, but if Chan couldn't make time for you then there was nothing else you could do.
You opted for texting him your resignation a few days ago, which you hated doing as you wanted to express it in person, but you didn't want to live with Changbin while having your "job" still being an expectation held over your head. His response was a clear cut, "I understand. I'm sorry I brought you back into it due to my own desperation, that was wrong of me. I hope you'll be happier from now on."
You were worried at first that he was just saying those things to make you feel better and was actually upset with you, so Felix offered to ask him about it in your stead since he is around Chan for most of his days.
He asked about it between scheduled organization sessions, and relayed that Chan did genuinely seem to be okay with you leaving again, even if it meant you quitting the job. He had always felt bad for asking knowing that you wouldn’t enjoy it, but he did anyway because it was the last idea he had before having to resort to his more extreme options.
He knew Changbin would be a tough target, and he knew there was a chance it wouldn’t work the way he’d hoped for, but it was the final barrier before making an extreme decision. And it’s unfortunate the near-miracle he was hoping for didn’t happen, but that’s what his other preparations were for. He was ready for this outcome, always, as he learned a long time ago that it pays to be prepared.
And as things stand now, Chan had a lot of hope in his raid and the execution of his plans going well for him. So as more and more time passed, he always intended to both thank you and apologize sincerely, for once again doing something selfless for his sake, and that you would be free to leave whenever you’d want to. It was regrettable that he couldn’t give you his best wishes sooner, but he hoped you would realize their sincerity.
It was a bit odd to have to play telephone with others to hear those words from your brother, but it eased your mind nonetheless. And he promised that the two of you would have a sibling get together as soon as he was able to, with no expectations about you rejoining or doing favors for the family; just simply enjoying one another's time as a normal brother and sister would.
The thought made you happy, and you hoped it was a sign of good things to come. You're not sure if there will ever be a time where your brother and your lover can ever meet and happily exist in the same space, but you could at least be happy if Chan cheers for your happiness from afar.
So with all that in mind, you've begun to pack more eagerly in the last few days. You have all of your out of season clothes packed now, boxes safely nestled in various corners of your apartment and ready to be taken to Changbin's place at any moment.
You even smile to yourself as you pack away your childhood objects, giddy as you think about where each object would look having its own spot in Changbin's house. Everything, from imagining where you'll display your favorite old teddy bear to what your clothes will look like tucked away next to his is enough to make you beam with delight.
And thankfully, Jeongin is finally free to help you tonight, arriving with some desperately needed coffees in hand. "Drink up Noona, you must be exhausted from all this work," he smiles as he passes one of the coffees to you, which you graciously accept. "Yeah, working all day and then having to pack my stuff alone in the evenings sucks," you complain after taking several big sips of your drink.
Honestly, you really appreciate the help. There's no doubt in your mind that Jeongin must be tired too, but he's still deciding to help you anyways. And besides that, it'll be nice to have someone to talk to while you do the mindless task of putting things in boxes.
"So, Chan doesn't have you working tonight?" you ask after the pair of you begin packing away your various kitchen items. "I already did my work, technically. He just wanted me to go to the station as usual today and observe everyone. I was supposed to let him know if anyone seemed more on edge than usual."
"Oh. I'm guessing he wants to get an idea about if the police are clued in on his plans again?" you ask, and Jeongin nods. "Yeah. He said that if I discovered that they knew anything, he would change tactics. Trip them up by swapping the days around, changing what time of day to strike, and things like that. But everyone seemed normal."
That makes sense, you think; while high standing officers are supposed to keep their cool at all times, not everyone has a good poker face, and if someone seemed exceptionally nervous, that could be a good indicator that something big was on the horizon. "So everything is good at the station? Are things going well with that big case Changbin has been worried about lately?"
"I think so," Jeongin answers, as he finishes putting the last of a plate set gently into a box. "I'm a low standing officer there, so I actually don't know much about the cases Changbin oversees personally, or what goes on in the other departments. But it looks like things are going well, as far as I can tell. I won't know more than that unless I get assigned to the case."
You nod in understanding as he speaks, taping a box shut as you finish filling it up with various dishware. It's a stressful time for everyone it seems, but you hope things go well. You'll be happier when Changbin finally closes his case and has more free time to spend with you, and you'll be happy when you talk to Chan as siblings and put your past fully behind you.
You'll also be happier when Jeongin doesn't have to lead a double life anymore like you've had to for so many years before now. More than that, you hope that following this everyone you love can stay out of harm's way for as long as possible.
The two of you make idle small talk as you finish packing the kitchen, leaving only enough dishes out for you to use while still finishing the rest of your packing. You leave the lugging of the boxes around the house to Jeongin, as he's much stronger than you, and you'd rather him be the one to carry around all that heavy glass and porcelain.
You both jump when his phone suddenly rings and he nearly drops the box he's carrying, but thankfully he doesn't– disposing of all that broken glass and having to replace them with new sets would be a nightmare. "Help me put this down if you can, so I can answer my phone, please," he says, and you hold the opposite end of the box, helping him ease the box to the floor as swiftly but safely as possible.
He pulls his phone out of pocket as quickly as he's able, answering the phone in his usual mannerism. "Hey, Felix-hyung, what's up?" Your ears perk up at hearing him say a familiar name, and look at him with a questioning gaze, while Jeongin just shrugs in your direction.
You wait patiently for him to finish his phone call, deciding to use this time as a small break from all the work you've been putting in. You sit down, settling into your sofa before absentmindedly listening to Jeongin talk on the phone.
However, dread settles in your gut as you watch his expression change. “What? What is it?” You ask, body going stiff as your mind races through the possibilities and you prepare to hear the worst. “Chan-hyung started the raid, and it hasn’t been going well for either side. The police were there, and... Changbin is pursuing him.”
No. You don't want to believe it. Your blood runs cold in your veins as you start to put the pieces together; the case that Changbin has been struggling with because the culprit was so elusive, the case that he was so happy to finally have a lead on after months of stagnation, the operation he's been carefully planning for weeks to finally bring the person he's been looking for to justice.. It was about Chan– this entire time he's had your brother in his sights.
You weren't oblivious to the fact that your brother was a wanted man, you've always known that the police were looking for him and that this outcome was a possibility, but you foolishly hoped that everything would reach a peaceful conclusion.
And now they are going to be in each other's sights, with Changbin having no idea of your relation to the man he's been hunting, and Chan not knowing how you feel about Changbin, while backed in a corner and prepared to do anything to get out of it.
You’re on your feet in an instant, rushing to grab your keys to leave. “Noona! You can’t go, it’s too dangerous for you!” Jeongin rises to his feet after you, bolting to beat you to your front door. “I have to go, I can’t just sit here!” You exclaim as you try to desperately push your way past him.
“Don’t be reckless, let’s make a plan with Felix-hyung first,” Jeongin pleads, trying to appeal to your rational side. Rationality has left you however, being replaced solely by panic and urgency. “We don’t have time for that, Felix already has his hands full with everything else, we’re lucky he even had a chance to call! I have to go before it’s too late to stop something bad from happening, they’ll listen to me!”
God dammit. He doesn't want to let you walk into a situation like this, but the way you're looking at him, so full of trepidation and urgency, with eyes desperately pleading to let you pass, it makes him feel like a knife is twisting in his gut. And there's truth in your words; maybe, if you can reach them in time, you can prevent the worst case scenario from unfolding.
He hates it, but maybe it is the only way to make sure everyone gets out of this unharmed. Neither Chan or Changbin want you to be hurt, so they would stop the altercation they were having if you showed up– they’d have to. “Okay, but I’m going with you. You can’t go alone.” Jeongin concedes, stepping aside to let you out and following swiftly behind you.
You immediately start to make a beeline for the front seat of your car, but Jeongin reaches out to stop you, grabbing your arm firmly. "Let me, you shouldn't drive in this state," he reasons with you, holding out his opposite hand to accept your keys from you.
You're really in no place to argue, and he's probably right; how can you possibly worry about driving safely in this situation? So you concede easily, to Jeongin's relief, placing your keys in his hand and trusting him to get you where you need to be as quickly as he safely can.
Jeongin gets the location from Felix, and while truthfully the drive is only several minutes at most, it feels like an eternity to you. Every attempt to calm yourself ends in vain, no amount of breathing techniques or affirmative talk being enough to calm the barrage of dread.
You're scared, you realize. So fucking scared. Scared of your brother's fate, of Changbin's, what you'll do if you arrive in time and what you'll do if you don't. Fuck, you really don't want to think about that scenario. You'll get there in time, you have to– there's no other option.
Jeongin curses as you approach the surrounding area of the building that everyone is supposedly inside of– it’s completely walled off by a police barricade, with officers redirecting civilians and forcing them out of the area.
“What do we do? We need in there,” he muses pessimistically, more to himself than to you. Still driving, though more slowly so as to not approach the barricade closely, he reaches out for his phone, hoping to call Felix and find a way for you to get inside.
But you don’t have any time to spare. You can’t wait for Felix, and you don’t have the luxury of using your limited time to make a plan of action. All you can do is go, and hope your feet carry you quickly to where you need to be.
You rush out of the car before Jeongin even has a chance to bring it to full stop, your feet carrying you as fast as they can, desperate to prevent the worst from happening. You hear Jeongin’s voice ring out behind you, but whatever he’s yelling out is lost on you. The adrenaline pumping in your veins blocks out everything that isn’t in your immediate view. You have to get to them in time, you have to, you have to.
Your eyes quickly scan the perimeter, searching for a point of chaos between the police, your family, and the rival family that you can use to your advantage. If things go your way, you could slip past the police in charge of maintaining the barricade through the confusion. And if you’re even more lucky, you could run past all the fighting and stray bullets unscathed.
You don’t feel good about how much of this relies on luck, as you’ve never had it on your side, but there’s no other options. You have to just let your feet carry you forward, and pray with all your might that things don’t turn out for the worst. Finding a spot you think will be your best bet, you take a breath to steel yourself, and run.
There are shouts all around you as you dart past everyone as quickly as you can manage, officers and mafia members alike. You ignore the voices as you run, eyes combing everything around you in hopes of finding something or someone familiar to lead you down the right path.
You’d been in your fair share of dangerous situations, but this is easily the most dire of them all. Everything is against you, but you have to carry on regardless, even if it all ends in vain. “Noona!” A familiar voice calls out and you stop, frantically searching for the owner of the voice that called out to you.
You eventually see Jisung standing in the distance, and the pair of you run to each other, dodging past as much of the unfolding chaos as you can. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be involved in this,” he talks with alarm and bewilderment.
When he first saw you, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He hasn’t seen you in over a year, so he must’ve mistaken someone else for you. But the closer you came, the more he realized it was you he was seeing, and that his eyes weren’t deceiving him. “I need to find Chan, do you know where he is?” you ask between quick inhales.
“Noona, you should take a minute, you’re clearly out of breath and–” If this were another time, you would’ve appreciated and thanked him for his concern, but you can’t afford to waste time right now.
“I need to see Chan, right now, it’s important! Do you know where he is?” you repeat, hoping to reflect the urgency of your situation. Jisung is possibly the most confused and concerned he’s ever been in his life, but your desperation is palpable and it’s obvious to him that whatever this is, he doesn’t have the luxury to ask for any elaboration right now.
“He had an escape route prepared in case this happened, that way,” Jisung points to the north, away from most of the surrounding fighting and police presence, before he continues, “but you really should be careful, it might not be safe–”
You begin running again before he can continue, yelling out an apology and a thanks as you go. He’s stunned in place for a moment, cursing as he decides on whether or not he should follow you. Jisung decides, however, it’d be best to stay and keep people off your path. He’ll do his best to make sure that no one that would harm you, or Chan, makes it past him.
You aren’t sure how long you’ve been running for, as images blur and merge in your peripheral. This is the most you’ve ever run in your entire life, your lungs burn and your legs are becoming heavier and heavier from exhaustion with each step, but you have to keep going, no matter what.
And finally, the silhouettes of people appear in the distance. The flame of urgency burning within you that was being snuffed by exhaustion is reignited in an instant, body now reinvigorated to carry you further.
Your heart sinks as you begin to more closely approach the scene in front of you. Changbin is injured, hand gripping his bloodied arm as the harsh gravel digs into his knees on the ground while the handgun he was granted for this operation lies yards away from him in the dirt.
Chan has his aim set on Changbin, gun cocked and ready to fire another shot if Changbin makes a move. He can’t hope to reach his own gun before Chan takes another shot at him, and he won’t be able to disarm and cuff him with his arm in the state it’s in. He’s stuck in place, doomed to whatever fate Chan has in store for him unless he can come up with a plan within the next minute.
“Don’t shoot!” Your voice calls out desperately as you run forward, rushing to stand in front of Changbin and block him with your body before your brother can act.
“Y/N? What are you doing?” Chan is clearly surprised by the intrusion, but he doesn’t lower the gun yet, evidently waiting for you to move out of the way so he can take the shot he had lined up. “Don’t shoot him,” you repeat, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.
Changbin is frozen in place, mind reeling as he stares at your backside. How are you here? What is your relation to the mafia head he's been hunting? Did you know he would be here, or was this coincidence? What is happening? Is this even real?
Was he already dead, and now in his final moments he is projecting your image in front of him to bring himself comfort? No, if you were a projection of his mind then surely things would be different. You’d hug him warmly, make his final moments peaceful by reminding him of your love and planting kisses to his cheeks.
This is reality. A dreadful reality.
“Are you serious?” Chan says incredulously, baring an expression you’d seen many times pointed at enemies, but never at yourself. He’s angry, teeth gritting as he stares you down. “You’re going to protect him? What about Minho, huh? You’re gonna side with the man that put him in?”
His gun remains firmly pointed forward, though his hand is no longer as steady. There’s a tremble as various emotions course through him; anger, hurt, sadness, confusion. None of it makes sense to him. Why would you do this?
“He’s just doing his job! He’s not a bad man just because you don’t like that!” You argue, hands trembling as you raise your voice to your brother. You’d never argued with him before, normally having always been on the same side. But he doesn’t see the way you’ve changed, doesn’t know the pain you harbored all these years and how it ate away at you.
He doesn't know the depth of your feelings for Changbin, and how you'd willingly put yourself in danger a million times over before you'd let something bad happen to him. “You’re the one in the wrong, not Changbin.”
Some people resort to crime because they have no choice; it’s all they know or the only way they can survive. They do it because they must, even if they hate it and even if it pains them. And you used to feel that way too– like you didn't have a choice.
You felt like your life was decided for you the moment you were born, and that you’d never be free of hardship. But you did have a choice, you always did, and Chan does too, even if he doesn’t realize it at this moment.
Chan can choose to step away, he can choose to not let the expectations of your deceased parents determine his course, he can choose to be a better person than he was yesterday. It’s not yours or Chan’s fault that this was the life you were born into, but you realized it didn’t have to stay that way.
You had the power to change your own life, and Chan does too. Whether or not he shoots is a choice; he doesn’t have to do this, and you’ll make him understand that at any cost.
Your brother scoffs in disbelief as he lowers the gun, his expression the most cold and distant you’d ever seen pointed at you. “You love him, don’t you? Is that what this is?” There’s no other explanation.
You’d never done this before; you’ve always had strong morals, you’ve always hated the terrible things he had to do, but despite that you still never stopped him like this. So why else would you now, after all this time, unless it's love?
“I do,” you answer firmly, trying your best to convey how serious you are. He scans your face, looking for any sign that this might all somehow be an elaborate joke despite knowing inside that there’s no way that it is.
His eyes move behind you next, taking in the utter shock and confusion painted on Changbin’s face. “He doesn’t know, does he?” Chan states more than asks. It’s obvious you didn’t reveal the truth of your life to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have such a bewildered expression.
“Know what..?” Changbin manages to finally find his voice, though he’s not sure he even wants to hear the answer. Chan shifts his gaze back to you, taking in your expression next. There’s trepidation there, sure, but underneath is a determination he’s never seen in you before you. A resolve that is both unflinching and resolute.
Are you that determined to protect this man? You’d choose him over your own brother, your family? He means so much to you that you’d throw everything else away? That's what makes him the most hurt of all.
“I’m her brother,” Chan says almost nonchalantly, though you know your brother well enough to hear the emotion underneath. The faux calm, almost indifferent expression masking the true depth of what he feels. It would fool you if you were a stranger, but the years of growing up together gives him away easily.
It was something you used to admire in him– his ability to remain calm despite being anything but was something you were sure required a lot of self control and restraint. But now that his vindication is pointed at you, a chill runs down your spine.
You know what Chan is capable of, and you know how easy it is for him to remove threats. And while you hope your bond as siblings is enough to prevent him from doing the worst, there is truly no guarantee.
He would go to great lengths to protect the life he has, even if it meant committing to a task that agonized him; you’ve seen it done multiple times. You’re his last blood relative left, and he loves you dearly, but is that enough? Can you say for certain that he’d never, under any circumstance, harm you?
If it were the Chan of the past, you would be assured in your safety. He’d never jeopardize you, never put you in harm's way, never be the cause for any suffering you might feel. But somewhere along the way, he lost himself, and the Chan you see in front of you now isn't the same brother you knew years ago. Years of hardship have worn on him, months of anger and betrayal warping him into someone you don’t recognize anymore.
“Y/N..? Is that true..?” You hear Changbin’s voice from behind you, hollow and hesitant. He knows the answer is the one he hates, and he dreads having to hear it, but he has to, in your own words with your own voice. Even if the truth plagues him, even if the grief kills him, he just has to hear it from you.
You want to turn around and face him, to explain this situation from your perspective, but you can’t yet. There is a part of you that fears what will ensue if you turn your back to your brother right now.
“Please, walk away,” you plead with Chan, desperation clear in your tone. Changbin is trembling behind you, he realizes; not from fear, but from an overwhelming and all encompassing sorrow overtaking him.
The tension in Chan’s body loosens, but his gaze is still harsh as he looks at you. “Fine. I’ll walk away– not because I give a shit about what happens to him, though. I’m doing it for you.” He turns to Changbin next, stare as cold as ice.
“My sister bought you a favor today. I can’t promise what will happen if you come after me again. Remember that, yeah?” He looks at you one last time, making sure you remember that as well. That if there is a next time, he won’t be holding back– and he expects you to accept that.
You spend a few moments watching Chan walk away, not turning to look at Changbin until he is just a dark silhouette against the nearly set sun. Changbin rises to his feet with some difficulty, but he doesn’t accept it when you reach your arms out to help him. You swallow, biting back tears as you lower your arms. You understand why he didn’t accept your help, but fuck, does it hurt.
“Your estranged brother I never met, that you said you haven't been in contact with for a long time.. This is why?” The anguish in his voice is evident and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.
You nod slowly, your hesitancy not due to any lack of desire to tell the truth, but because you loathe the inevitable outcome. He’s leaving you today. He doesn’t trust you anymore. He doesn’t love you anymore.
“And Jeongin? Does he know what your brother does too?” “Yes,” you answer, trying not to let the agony you feel make your voice tremble, “I can explain everything but you need to go to the hospital, your arm–”
You watch Changbin take a shuddering breath as he takes in your words. Maybe it’s the shock, the adrenaline, or both, but he doesn’t feel the pain anymore. In fact, he couldn’t care less about getting medical attention right now. He needs answers from you, right now, more than anything else.
“So, what was the point of all this then? You were supposed to use me and throw me away afterwards, is that it?” His tone is as accusatory as it is despondent. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, no longer able to be stopped from willpower alone. “Were you playing me for a fool this entire time?” You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. You have to be honest, lying to him even after all this will make it worse.
“I met you because my brother asked me to, but I was never going to hurt you! Jeongin and I, we– we don’t want to do things like that anymore. We are trying to put our pasts behind us.” You plead with him to understand you, to not believe that you would ever purposely hurt him. The last thing you ever wanted was to see this expression on his face. Broken. Dejected. Miserable.
"How can I believe that now? How am I supposed to trust that you're not telling me another lie?" Changbin bites back, a tidal wave of emotion behind each word. He loved you so genuinely, but what does he do now? How can he look at all the interactions you had and not question the motive behind each one?
He didn’t want to doubt you like this. He wanted to believe that you meant it when you said you loved him all this time. You healed every broken part of him, only to shatter him all over again.
“That day– when you told me you loved me for the first time.. You said you were afraid I’d leave you someday. Is this why?” he asks, trying desperately to believe you. He doesn't know if he can anymore, but deep inside, he still wants to– he doesn't want to let you go, despite what you've done. That almost makes it even worse.
“I love you, and that’s the truth. I understand if you don’t believe me but I’ve never lied about that.” Tears are streaming down your cheeks, your entire world feeling like it’s on the verge of collapse. Changbin’s heart aches unbearably. He trusted someone after all this time, only for it to turn out like this?
"You lied to me– you knew how much I trusted you and you lied to me," his voice breaks now, and he turns his face away, refusing to look at you any longer.
"And did you ever think about the fact that I could lose my job because of this? You know how much my career means to me, did that ever really matter to you?" he contiues, voice wavering painfully, "If anyone finds out that I’ve been dating someone with a criminal connection, I’ll look corrupt. It won’t matter that I didn't know, I’ll be forced to resign."
“I..” you want to reply, but you don’t have the words. He’s right, of course. The public won’t care that you’ve tried to change, they won’t care that you have a clean record or live a quiet, modest life. They’ll see a scandal. They’ll see you as someone unworthy of society.
And they’ll turn on Changbin, the man who has done nothing but dedicate his life to protecting them. They’ll accuse him, misunderstand him, drag his reputation through the mud. A scandal will ruin the public perception of police, it’ll taint his spotless career in a matter of seconds. And it’ll be all your fault, always.
You’ve always lived your life selflessly, put others before yourself, did the things you hated to make someone else’s life easier. You were selfish, just this once. Just this once, you did something for your own happiness. Just this once, you hoped that the world would do you a favor, and allow you to keep the joy you obtained.
But, as always, that joy wasn’t meant for you. As always, the life you were born into ruined any chance at happiness you ever had. You clung, desperately, to the idea that your life with Changbin would always be happy. You clung to the hope that the sorrow you’ve lived with for so long would never make its return. You clung to the love Changbin offered you, to the peace he brought you, and to the future you dreamed of building with him.
That future crumbled before your eyes in an instant. You wish you could cry, kick, and scream, beg Changbin to believe you and not turn away, but you can’t. Because you can’t blame him for not being able to see you the same way anymore. It’s not his fault, nothing is. If he can never trust you again, or see you the same way as he did yesterday, there’s nothing you can do but accept it.
You look at him, heartbroken as stray tears falling down in his face, the grief palpable. You try to find your voice, but even if you do, what more can you say? Will it even make a difference? But you should try at least. You can’t leave things like this. You can’t watch him hurt like this and do nothing in response.
“Changbin, I.. I understand if you can’t trust me anymore. But I do genuinely, with all my heart, love you. I wouldn’t have stopped my brother if I didn’t. Even if you never want to look at me again, I hope you’ll believe that, at least,” you sob out the words, trying not to stutter with each one that passes your lips.
Changbin looks at you, lips trembling. His mouth opens and closes, as if he was about to speak but decided against it, or couldn’t find the words. Everything hurts, he doesn’t know what to say anymore. He loves you so much, but should he accept what you say so easily? Even if he wants everything to go back to the way things were before, is it even possible anymore?
But in the entire time he’s known you, you’ve always seemed so genuine. Your pretty smiles, your loving embraces, your sweet words. The way you cried over him, supported him, loved him.. How could any of that be fake?
And, if he thinks about it, he could understand why you wouldn’t want to share your shameful past with someone. You never went into detail about why you didn’t keep in contact much with your brother, but if your explanation is true, it makes sense.
It’s hard to talk about the things you aren’t proud of, the things you hate about yourself or the life you led. He knows from his own experience how challenging it is to be emotionally vulnerable with someone, but it always seemed like you were trying your best with him. He can remember all the times you opened up to him well, because of how happy it made him feel to know you loved and relied on him.
Was it wrong of you to leave out the truth of your brother? Of course it was. A lie by omission is still a lie, after all. And maybe you were just a good actor all this time, but he couldn’t help but believe in his memories.
His memories of you telling him about your life, about the things you love and the things you feel. You shared so much with him.. Surely after this long, you would've slipped up if your feelings weren't true.
The average person can't hide feelings of contempt easily, subtle changes in their facial expressions and body language often betray them, and they drop their guard when they feel like they are no longer being observed.
And he's watched you a lot, looking at you with eyes full of love and joy whenever you thought he was no longer looking. He would see the bashful smiles, your pink tinted cheeks, the soft giggles to yourself. All so cute, all so endearing, all so real.
No one could possibly fake that, right? Even the best of actors would eventually grow weary of their act, wouldn't they? He doesn't know what to think anymore, nor what to do. All he knows is that he loves you, and he doesn't want this to be the end. Even if it's what he should do, he doesn't want to turn away from you.
Regardless of your past, or what you may have hidden about your life, it's an undeniable truth that you helped him overcome his troubles. You made his life better simply by existing in the same space. You always greeted him with a smile full of warmth and care. He loves you. "I.. need to think," Changbin finally says after some time, "I don't–"
"Chief!" You hear a voice call out, and the both of you turn in its direction, seeing a small unit of officers running towards you. His body immediately stiffens, face changing in an instant. He can’t look vulnerable in front of his men. He can’t let them see the feelings underneath the surface of his expression.
Their weapons are drawn as they approach, pointed at you cautiously, prepared to make a move if it seems like you will take a step out of line. Changbin instinctively stands in front of you, speaking to his subordinates in a clear voice, "Stand down, she's a civilian."
"Apologies ma'am," the one leading the unit says before they all bow an apology to you. Changbin looks at you, swallowing as he decides, for the first time in his career, that he will lie for someone. "The target evaded capture by using her as a hostage. He opened fire after I secured her."
Changbin, stout, honest, and resolute Changbin, who never went against his morals and always upheld the law, just lied on your behalf.
"Were you hurt?" one asks you, while another calls for assistance on his walkie. "N-No, I'm fine, I.." you hesitate for a moment, taking a breath that you hope just makes you appear like you're recovering from the shock of being a hostage. "He protected me."
"Our on site medics have their hands full, but an additional ambulance is on the way, Chief," the officer with the walkie speaks up, turning to you next. "We'll need to interview you ma'am. Can you answer some questions for us?"
You open your mouth to speak, but Changbin places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. "Let her be evaluated before you question her. Even without physical injury, she's been through a lot. She's not in a state to answer questions," Changbin says to them. He uses a commanding tone, but one that is somehow still full of care.
"Of course, sir." The officer bows to him respectfully. Changbin looks at you, his expression unreadable. You suppose this must be the stern poker face that you've heard so much about, but never seen with your own eyes.
"We'll be in contact." He says, and though you know that's something he has to tell you as an officer to a witness, you can't help the way it gives you hope. You hope there will be a day that Changbin forgives you. You hope that he will still love you as he did when this day began. You can wait, no matter how long it takes, because it'll be worth it for him.
Changbin walks away from you now, evidently to talk with his team about matters a civilian like you isn’t supposed to hear. You fall to your knees when he’s out of immediate view, with the pair of officers that stayed behind to watch over you trying to catch you.
Now that all the adrenaline has faded from your system, and you no longer have strong emotions making you ignore the ache in your body, your legs have practically turned to jello, no longer strong enough to hold you up. Your body is the weakest it’s ever felt, sore and frail from all the exertion.
The officers around you make a small commotion, trying to help you to your feet and assuring you that help will be here soon. But despite that, you still look on in the direction Changbin went. You wish you could know if he’ll be okay. You wish you could know if he still cares about you.
Or, at the very least, you wish you could know that he doesn’t hate you. You hope his arm doesn’t hurt too terribly, you hope it heals well, and you hope that he forgives you for the pain you and your brother have caused him.
That’s all you want, you think. For Changbin to be happy and healthy. You hope he’ll still love you, but you’ll be okay if he doesn’t, as long as he doesn’t hate you for what you’ve done. You’ll be content with never having him in your life again, as long as he forgives you.
You’ll wish him well, with the best smile you can muster, even if all he ever does is accept your apologies. Because you love him, and you want the best for him. It’ll hurt, but if he decides the best for him isn’t you, it’ll be okay– it’ll have to be.
You won’t be selfish, or at least you’ll try your very best not to be. You won’t expect anything from him that you shouldn’t. You won’t beg, or plead, or force. But you’ll hope, because that’s all you have now.
It’s all you’ve ever had, really. Hope for a better future, a better life, a happier existence. And all you can do is hope- that your better future will include Changbin.
Changbin, who you hope forgives you, who you hope still loves you, who you hope still wants you in his life. Changbin, who has shown you how happy life can be when you let the right person in. Changbin, who melted the ice that filled the cracks in your heart, and replaced it with warmth. Changbin, who took the broken parts of you and pieced them back together, who treated you like porcelain worthy of the utmost care.
If you’re an angel to him, then he is a seraph to you. His light shines brightly, as brilliant as the sun, his warmth beyond comparison, his smile incandescent. You’ll always love him, no matter how much time passes.
Even if he no longer feels the same, and even if he never sees you again, you won’t be able to love anyone else the way you’ve loved him. That’s just how important he is to you; no one else could take his place in your heart.
He taught you how to trust again. He reminded you how it felt to smile with sincerity, to love genuinely, to laugh unapologetically. It’s something you will always cherish, with all that you are and all that you have.
Seo Changbin is irreplaceable, and always will be. You love him, and always will. And you hope, hope, hope, that he’ll always love you too.
It's been months since the last time Changbin has spoken to you. Long, emotionally draining months. He missed you, so terribly, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to you– at least, not yet anyways. There was just so much to think about after he learned the truth about your family, and about the lies that surrounded you as a result of it.
He could understand why you didn't tell him about your brother, but it still hurt to find out the way he did. And it also left him conflicted and confused about how he should move forward if the two of you stayed together.
He's not just a police officer, he's the chief. Everyone looks up to him, he's the one that has to be turned to in crucial moments, the one who has to make hard decisions. He has a lot of power, the one in charge of multiple units and operations.
With all that comes responsibility, not just to his subordinates, but to the public. He has a duty to protect them, a duty to adhere to the law, and a duty to uphold the truth. And while at first, his immediate concern when he found out about your brother was what it could possibly do to his career, there was more to it than just that.
Changbin can't ignore the fact that your brother is a criminal, even if he wanted to– it's his sworn duty as an officer to arrest criminals. Would you be able to, in all honesty, never harbor resentment or hatred for him if he had to arrest or harm your brother?
If the situation was swapped, and it was Changbin pointing the barrel of his gun at Chan, would you be able to accept that? If he had to shoot your brother, could you say for certain that you wouldn't despise him for it? If cutting off your brother for good was necessary for the two of you to be happy together, would you honestly never be angry or resentful about it?
You might say yes, and you might wholeheartedly believe that when you say it, but the human heart is complex and uncertain in nature. There may come a day in the future where you realize how much you miss your family, and come to blame Changbin for the distance between you. The ties people have to their loved ones are immense, and oftentimes inseverable by will alone.
And maybe none of that will ever come to be. Maybe his concerns are unfounded, and you would be resolute in your choice to be with him no matter what happened to your brother, but he can't help but think about it.
A spur of the moment decision could change his life forever, and he has to consider every outcome, no matter how unlikely and how much he trusts in your feelings. His future with you is uncertain, and that scares him.
There were many days where he stared at your contact in his phone, trying to find the words to send to you, but not being able to. He'd never known himself to hesitate like this before, never been scared of uncertainties and rejection.
Even at his most torn down, he always did his best to live his life as confidently as he could, with the mindset that if things didn't go his way he would eventually recover. There were so many losses that wore at him, so many heart breaks to recover from, but he always turned out okay in the end.
Changbin always strived to live his life with optimism despite it all. Even in his worst, most depressed moments, he dragged himself out of the muck, and worked earnestly towards getting the things he wanted. He never feared moving forward from loss, because he knew you could get what he once had back with effort.
Whenever he faltered he picked himself back up, when he was lost in darkness he would persevere until the light returned to him. But now, here he was, crippled by the fear of losing something, someone, he wants dearly, unable to pick himself back day the way he always could before.
His fear turned to hesitance, which has eventually turned to inaction– uncharacteristically, he watches life pass him by, stares at your name in his phone and does nothing. He sighs heavily, head hitting his desk as he falls against it. He just doesn't know what to do.
If he reaches out to you, will you respond? What if he wasted so much time in his fear, that now you've moved on, and he's wasted whatever chance at happiness with you he had?
He stares at nothing for a long while, his head simultaneously feeling full to the brim with thoughts and like a vast nothingness, almost numb. A knock on his office door suddenly breaks his trance, and he lifts his head, beckoning whoever is on the other side to enter.
"Sir, Yang Jeongin is requesting to speak with you," the officer who enters says, and Changbin's eyebrows raise in surprise. The Yang Jeongin that was working here until the incident a few months ago? Your little brother? That Yang Jeongin?
"What is he doing here?" he asks after a moment, but the officer shrugs in response. "Don't know. Said it was something only the chief should hear. Maybe it's a lead on one of your cases?" they suggest and Changbin frowns. There is only one reason Jeongin would want to speak to him after all this time– it's you. Whatever he has to say, it's about you.
"Tell him I'll be right out," Changbin says as he stands, and the officer nods, bowing politely as they close the door behind themself. Changbin takes a moment to steady his racing heart, taking a deep breath before he leaves his office. He strides coolly past the many desks where other officers are sitting, hoping to maintain a calm exterior and not give away the trepidation he feels.
Jeongin is sitting on a bench in the front hall of the station, and he offers a small wave when he spots Changbin opposite of him. "Chief," Jeongin starts, but immediately corrects himself, "Well, I guess I shouldn't call you that anymore, huh?"
"Jeongin.. Should we talk somewhere privately?" Changbin asks and the younger man nods, standing to follow wherever the older leads. They leave the building together, walking quietly until stopping in front of a cafe that Changbin frequents.
"This place good with you?" he asks, and Jeongin nods, having no reason to object to the location. They sit, making simple coffee orders, before Jeongin lets out a small sigh. "Well, I should get straight to the point.. Y/N-noona is leaving."
Changbin's frame stiffens, looking at Jeongin with a firm expression. "Leaving as in.. she won't be in Seoul anymore?" he asks and Jeongin nods.
"I don't know if it's my place to tell you, but.. she's always hated being involved in.. let's say "the life." She left before, but just got dragged back in and, she thinks leaving the city entirely will be the thing that will finally put her past behind her for good." He explains, choosing his language carefully given the public setting.
So.. this isn’t the first time you’ve tried to leave, that's what he's saying? Before you ever even met Changbin, you already wanted out? You were prepared to stay away from your brother, even before you knew him? Maybe he should feel stupid with the realization that his worries were unfounded, but instead he feels relief.
It's proof you'd never hate him or blame him if you had to keep distance from your brother, proof of your morals, and proof of the truth you were trying to convey to him that day– that you would've never betrayed him. That you loved him, truthfully and wholeheartedly.
"Can I ask you– if she wants to leave, and put everything behind her.. Why are you telling me she's going?" Changbin asks carefully, and Jeongin doesn't hesitate to answer. "Because she loves you. Even now, all she hopes for is that you still love her too. She misses you."
Changbin's heart picks back up in speed upon his words. Is that what you've told him? If he called you right now, would you be happy? Did you still want to be with him? Were you waiting for him, all this time?
"I'm not saying you should convince her to stay here, or that you should abandon your life here to follow her, but.. I still thought you should know." Jeongin continues, "And she would be happy to hear from you before she goes. Even if you have no intention of continuing your relationship, and it's just for closure's sake, it'd be good for her. She could move on with a smile, I think."
"I want to talk to her," Changbin says with a certainty that makes Jeongin's tense body finally relax. He was hoping, more than anything, that Changbin would talk with you before you go. All he wants is for you to be happy, or have the closure needed to move on if nothing else. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with her again later tonight to help her carry boxes, but I think she'd like it better if you showed up instead."
“Are you sure that would be okay?” Changbin asks, and Jeongin smiles and nods without hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t put her in a situation that would upset her. I know she wants to see you.”
Changbin returns that smile, feeling elated for the first time since that day he walked away from you. He didn’t know what he wanted then, was hopelessly lost and confused. He’s spent enough time thinking about it, but now he knows, and he’s determined to show you– all he wants is you.
You sigh as you stare at the boxes littering your apartment, flopping onto your sofa and wiping the sweat from your brow. You were beyond exhausted, days filled with nothing but work and then packing when you got home.
You were also exhausted thinking about how you would just have to unpack everything when you arrived at your new home. You’d surely have some grueling months ahead of you.
But leaving this city was long overdue when you think about it– you really should have left it a long time ago. It has been 2 years now since the day you first left the family, and around a year and a half since you were subsequently dragged back in and met Changbin. Your heart ached whenever you thought about him, but you could never stop yourself. Everything reminded you of him, it seemed.
He changed your life for the better when he was in it, after all. It was hard not to see him in even the little things. When you’d watch tv to relax, you’d think about how it felt when Changbin was there with you, arms wrapped around you snuggly while you followed your little routine of choosing what to watch back and forth.
When you ate dinner, you’d think about how Changbin knew all your favorite things, and would playfully tease you about how you could eat the same things over and over again without getting tired of it.
When you layed in bed at night, you thought about how it felt to have Changbin next to you, his soft breathing in your ears and warm body lulling you to sleep. You’d be reminded of his gentle touches, his loving stare, and his cute pouts.
The way he’d keep you close to him, beg you to stay with him as long as possible, and smile brighter than the sun itself. Everything about him was endearing, everything worth committing to your memory, everything worth loving even after he was gone from your life.
Maybe that’s another reason you finally decided to leave for good. It was hard to look at your surroundings and not be reminded of all you once had and lost. Seoul carries a lot of memories for you, often times more bad than good.
You lost a lot of things here– your innocence, your family, and your love. What good you managed to hold in your hands always seemed to crumble and slip through your fingers, with you unable to do a thing to prevent it.
You needed a change of scenery, and to leave the painful memories behind you. It’d help, you think, if you were able to look at the world around you and not be bombarded with the feelings of loss and sadness.
Maybe you could stand on your own two feet more effectively, be the kind of happy person Changbin showed you that you could be. And maybe, if you were lucky, he would meet you again while you were a new version of yourself.
A stronger you, a happier you. Someone who didn’t falter and live in anxiety any longer, who lived the new life she was given with hope and joy. You’d be happy if you could show Changbin how much you’ve grown, how you’ve changed for the better thanks to his earnest love for you.
And not just for Changbin– living a better life is how you would pay back everyone who has helped you up until now. It’s how you would thank Felix and Jeongin for all their support in the hardest days of your life. Living a happier life was the best way to show your appreciation for all the people you love, and who love you in return.
You’d move on with your head held high, and someday in the future you would return here as the best version of yourself you could be. Even if they weren’t here with you right at this moment, it was enough to make you want to do your best.
“You know, you could still come with me Innie,” you told him when he was here earlier today, helping you move various heavy objects to the front room of your apartment. “I know, but I still have things I want to take care of here,” he responded with a soft smile.
Unlike you, he still had a mother to watch after here. He also expressed his desire to leave Chan and the others behind on positive terms, and to pursue training at the officer’s academy earnestly, so he could come back to his colleagues an honest man.
You were proud of him, truly, for making those choices for himself. You had nothing but faith that he would see his goals through, and be a little brother you could be proud of. He promised that he, with the help of Felix and Jisung, would help set Chan on the right path before he leaves his life there behind for good.
And when that day came, he would find you again, maybe even with everyone you love hand in hand with him. Maybe there would be a day where you could hug both of your brothers again, reunite with your old friends, and return to Seoul happily.
Speaking of friends, Seungmin was devastated when you announced to the office you were leaving. He made you promise that you would still keep in touch, and that you’d come back to visit sometimes. Of course, you reminded him that he could always come visit you as well but he insisted it would be more fun if you came to Seoul than if he went to some obscure small town.
You were still worried about Minho as well. It had been a long time since you, or anyone for that matter, had been able to see him in person. But he often wrote letters, expressing that he accepts where he is because it’s the natural result of the choices he made. He wishes everyone well, and hopes that everyone can live their lives happily until the day he is released. He doesn’t want anyone to risk their lives or safety for him, because he is okay.
You’re not sure if it gave Chan closure the way it did for you, but you hope it has. All you’ve ever wanted for your brother was for him to be safe and happy after all. And there’s still a part of you that hopes one day he’ll renounce his leadership and walk away from the life he’s led up until today. You’d like it if you could return the relationship you had with him as children, where the two of you were free from worries, and the bond you had as siblings made you stronger together.
You close your eyes, another small sigh leaving your lips. You’re tired, so tired, but strangely optimistic. Your life will be better from here on out, you’ll make sure of it.
It would be a lie to say you didn’t spend a lot of time crying at first, but when it was all over you realized how lucky you were. Lucky to have been loved by Changbin. Lucky to have friends who care about you. Lucky that you still have the opportunity to change your life.
Life has never been easy for you, but you’re grateful for what you’ve been given. Moments of happiness, no matter how fleeting, shaped you into who you are now. Memories, shared with those you’ve come to love, giving you the morals and sense of purpose you have now.
You’ll keep those memories close to your heart, and let them lead you forward. They will shape the road ahead, and keep you going when the road is tough. That’s what you’ve decided.
It’s never too late to change, never too late to be happy. You can take your life in your own two hands and shape it into what you desire. Life is what you make of it, and you’ve decided you’ll make it into the best it could possibly be.
And hopefully, in the future you create with your own hard work, Changbin will be there waiting for you. You’ll see his adoring smile and star-filled eyes, and know that it was all worth it.
A knock on the door breaks you from the thoughts, and you rise to your feet to answer it. It’s a little strange, as Jeongin would normally just call you if he was here, but he also knows you are expecting him so maybe he didn’t feel the need. “Hey Innie, there you–” you start as you open the door, but the words immediately seize in your throat.
You blink once, twice, assuming your eyes must be playing tricks on you. There’s no way Changbin is standing in front of you right now, right? Why would he be? “Y/N..” he says softly, a bit hesitant. He was feeling good when he first made the trek to your front door, but now that he’s here in front of you he feels.. Strange, almost.
It’s surreal to be standing in front of you after all this time. He’s thought about it a lot; how you would look when you were finally in front of him again, what expression you might have and how you might have changed. And now, you are understandably looking at him like a deer in headlights. To say you are stunned would probably be an understatement.
“Can I.. come in?” Changbin asks after another small moment. You want to speak, but you feel so astounded your voice won’t come out. So instead you nod, stepping to the side to allow him to enter your now barren apartment.
He looks around, taking in the sight of every single one of your tucked away into stacked boxes, with only your large furniture pieces still left out. This is what it would’ve looked like all those months ago too, if nothing had gone wrong and you moved in with him as planned.
It strikes a pang in his chest, one that he attempts to choke down. He can’t let all his emotions bubble to the surface just yet. There are things he needs to tell you clearly, things he wants you to hear.
You guide him past boxes, motioning for him to take a seat on your sofa. “What, uhm– what are you doing here..?” you ask cautiously, not entirely sure how you should feel now that you are finally looking at him again.
He hasn’t changed much; his dark, curly hair has grown a bit longer, his eyes are more tired, but overall he looks the same as he did months ago. Just as handsome too, you can’t help but notice. But really, how could you even hope to ignore that fact? You don’t think you’ll ever meet someone else as stunning as him.
“Jeongin told me you’re leaving,” he answers, watching your expression change carefully. “H-He did?” Your shocked expression changes to sadness, gaze moving down to your hands, which you are wringing nervously. “I.. wanted to tell you myself, but.. I didn’t know how, or if I should..”
“I’m glad he told me,” Changbin replies, and you look back at him, uncertainty clear on your face. “I would’ve been sad if– if you left before I could tell you how I feel,” he continues.
“How you feel..?” you question, and he nods, a tentative, almost shy expression spreading across his features. “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken, I really am. I spent that entire time thinking about– thinking about us, and what I should do. What I want..” Changbin’s tone is relaxed as he can possibly make it despite the rapid beating in his chest.
He takes a shaky inhale, palms sweating despite all his efforts to speak to you calmly. “I know what I want, and it’s you. It’s always been you. I just.. Took too long to sort that out, I think.” He confesses, watching you with bated breath as his words process within you. “I love you, and I– I hope I haven’t told you that too late.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes watering in an instant upon hearing those words you hoped so badly to hear again. “What about your job? And my family..?” you ask, and Changbin shakes his head, as if it’s not a concern in the slightest. “I know there are things we still have to figure out, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you go without trying. I love you too much to let it go so easily.”
The tears openly fall now, not being able to stop yourself from doing anything else. He opens his arms to you, offering his embrace if you want it, and you easily wrap yourself around him. He holds you close, your head pressing into his chest as sobs wrack your body.
“We’ll figure it out together,” he speaks to you softly, hands rubbing the soothing circles you missed so much into your skin. “I broke my promise to you before, but I’m not going to leave you again.”
He holds you like that until your breathing calms, the sobs slowing into gentle sniffles. You look up at Changbin, noticing that a few stray tear stains line his cheeks as well. He’s always hated seeing you cry, after all. The fact that it was because of him made it even harder for him to not become emotional himself.
“Binnie,” you breathe, leaning up to capture his lips in a soft kiss. He lets out a relieved sigh when your lips touch, his own flood of feelings washing over him. It feels so good to hold you in his arms again, to feel his lips against yours, to inhale the familiar scent of your shampoo.
Now that he has you again, he never wants to let you go. Whatever he has to do to keep you with him, he’ll do it, without a doubt. He realized that everything else in his life is replaceable. His career can be rebuilt from the ground up if necessary, and his home can be relocated. But not you– nothing can replace you.
You are his home. You are his life. He knows his connection with you is deep and real. In the entire time he knew you, he never had to change a single thing about himself to please you. You always loved him for who he is, right from the start.
That’s what he needed then, and what he still needs now– someone who loves him unconditionally. Who accepts him in all his silly, eccentric idiosyncrasies.
He kisses you over and over again, like you are the source of the oxygen he needs in his lungs. He holds you tightly, keeping your body glued to his, as if you’ll vanish if he lets go. “I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea how badly,” Changbin whispers against your skin, an action that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. It also makes you giggle a little in response, because wow, did you miss that feeling.
He always made you shy and giddy so effortlessly. All it ever took was the slightest bit of affection from him to make you feel bubbly inside. Changbin smiles when he hears your soft laugh, a warmth he hasn’t felt in months spreading over him.
He hopes from now on he can hear you laugh every day, see your shy smiles and cute, sparkling eyes. He doesn’t know what his future with you holds, but as long as he has that he will be happy.
“I’ve missed you more,” you tell him with a sweet smile. There’s part of you that still feels like this is all a vivid dream, and that you’ll wake up any minute in your new apartment by yourself. But even if it is a dream, you’ll enjoy it until the end. You’ll feel him under your palms for as long as you can, you’ll take in the sight of his beautiful face and the sound of his sweet voice.
You rest a hand on the nape of his neck, keeping him pulled close to you as you press kisses against his lips. The soft, gentle kisses that you shared at the start become deeper, more passionate, as they continue.
There’s a desperation bubbling within you, one that becomes increasingly more difficult to contain. You missed more than just the soothing, gentle touches to your skin– you also missed the way his hands could light a fire in you.
He always made you feel alive, for lack of a better term. In all your life, through the various men who knew you and had touched you, none of them ever made you feel the way Changbin does. You’re not sure if he realizes entirely the effect he has on you, but you belong to him.
Body, heart, mind, soul, everything– it’s Changbin’s. His hold on you is warm, protective, and loving. You’ll never regret trusting him, loving him, or giving yourself to him.
Changbin can tell where you are leading him, can see the way your eyes have changed when you pull away to breathe. It excites him as much as it worries him; once again, he’s afraid that touching you now will be taking advantage while you’re vulnerable.
You were just crying, dealing with and processing countless emotions, and the last thing he’d ever want is to be with you while your judgment is clouded. The last thing he’d ever want is to touch you in a moment of passion and learn you regretted it.
“We don’t have to do this right now,” he tells you carefully. He wants you to be sure you still want him, that you still love him enough to do this with him. He can always wait, build back up to this slowly if that’s what you’d need. As long as he has forever with you, there’s no rush.
But you shake your head, meeting his gaze seriously. “I want to,” you assure him softly, “I never stopped loving you. I will always trust you.” You lean back in, lips brushing against his as you speak, “I still want you.”
A soft whine leaves Changbin's lips, your words having more of an effect on him than you'll ever know. Your next kiss is impassioned, mouth open and licking at his tongue. You coax him to pursue you, to swallow your heated breaths, explore you completely, consume you entirely.
You let yourself fall backwards against the sofa, dragging Changbin down with you. It's not the most elegant display, nor is it seamless, but you don't really care about that. You've missed Changbin so much– his every look, every hold, and every sound. It's all you crave, all that matters in this moment.
Not wanting to crush you or leave you in an uncomfortable contortion, Changbin spreads your legs and moves himself to rest between them. He attaches his lips to your neck, deciding you’ve gone long enough without his mark on your skin. You relish in the feeling of having his teeth sink into you again, excitement bubbling in your gut when you imagine the way you’ll look with his love bites all over you.
His hands reach the bottom of your shirt, and you lift your back off the sofa to allow it to be pulled up and over your head. Your bra follows shortly after, being discarded to the floor and forgotten as your focuses are solely on eachother.
Changbin takes a moment to look you over, refamiliarizing himself with the appearance of your body and the intoxicating image of his teeth marks on your otherwise pure skin. He doesn’t get much more time to admire you however, as you begin to reach out for him.
You paw at the hem of his shirt, not so subtly requesting that he pull it off himself. He stifles the amused smile that threatens to peak out, pulling his shirt off in one swift movement. You look at him with equal parts adoration and desire, and he can’t deny he loves it when you look at him this way.
Changbin watches your expression change however, when your gaze meets his arm. There was a fresh scar where your brother shot him– a now constant reminder of what the pair of you had gone through that day, a permanent representation of the way you failed the person you love most.. "Bin, I– '' you choke on your words, eyes tearing up as you stare at the spot.
"Hey, look at me," Changbin says as he cups your face, directing your gaze back up to his own. "That's not your fault. You know that, right? It's not. Nothing is."
You struggle to hold back your sniffles, but he won't accept that; he needs you to know. You were in such a hard position, one that no one should have to be in. And he recognizes that now. He understands how hard it must have been to try to balance your life and protect the things you love.
He kisses you again, thumbs carefully rubbing away stray tears. “I love you,” he reminds you with his soft tone that always brought you comfort, “nothing changed that, okay?” You nod, believing his words entirely. You really had no reason not to; he’s always been so forthright and honest about everything he thinks and feels.
“I love you,” you tell him, and he smiles, kissing you once more for good measure. “Do you still want to keep going?” he asks, once again feeling sparks of elation trickle down his spine when you eagerly confirm that you do. As much as Changbin loves seeing you be bashful and shy, he also loves when your enthusiasm overrides it, when you show the true depths of your need for him without restraint.
The messy kisses to your skin resume, as if nothing interrupted them in the first place, the only difference now being that your upper body is completely exposed to him. Changbin’s hands trail slowly up and down your body, savoring the feeling of every soft dip and curve without any rush. Your gasp when his hands finally reach your breasts quickly turn into titillating mewls, nipples being tweaked and rolled between his fingers.
The sounds you make alone make Changbin want to moan, a salacious symphony in his ears, a siren’s song he can’t hope to ignore. He pulls back to look at you, watching the way your body twists and squirms, legs unable to close together due to his place between them.
“Binnie,” you whine, looking at him with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, lips turned into a small pout. “What is it, honey? What do you need?” he asks, head tilting slightly as he grins at you.
Your stomach flips, heart skipping a beat at both his tone, and from hearing the nickname for the first time in so long. You swallow, trying your best to conjure the words despite the way he looks at you making you want to combust on the spot.
“B-Bed?” you ask softly, and Changbin smiles with a nod, lifting you in his arms effortlessly. You lock your legs around his waist, arms snuggly wrapped around his neck as he carries you through the apartment.
You really should let him focus on getting through the minefield of boxes that is your apartment currently, but instead you kiss him with a fervor he matches equally. Even when he threatens to stumble, neither of you break away, completely committed to keeping your mouths on each other.
Luckily, you left your bedroom door open earlier, and Changbin has no problem carrying you through the doorway. You let yourself fall back onto the bed when he lets you go, and he positions himself between your legs once again, mirroring the position you were in moments ago on the sofa.
Rather than wait for Changbin to take the lead on this like you normally would, you reach for shorts, pulling them down as far as you can before needing him to take care of the rest. He really can’t blame you for feeling needy and eager; he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him, his own desire and ache for you being contained solely by his (dwindling) self-restraint.
You look at him, gaze possibly the most desperate he’s ever seen it be. Your body trembles with anticipation, begging for him to touch you. And while he’d love to prolong this moment, to lavish you slowly and tenderly, to watch you grow impatient as you yearn for more his touch in the places you need him most, he really can’t wait either.
More accurately, he doesn’t want to wait. He knows he can hold back, he knows he can restrain himself if he needs to, he knows he can do things slowly, but if neither of you can wait, if you’re both desperately reaching out for one another, then why draw it out? He knows what you want, and he wants to give it to you.
"I want to watch you cum," Changbin tells you, voice nearly a whisper in your ears. "Over, and over," he continues, your body shivering in response as you watch him trail downward. “You want that, right? To cum for me?” he asks rhetorically. He already knows the answer, but he wants you to say it anyway.
“Y-Yes, please,” you all but whine, and he smiles, licking his lips and wasting no further time talking. He pushes your thighs further apart, hooking his arms underneath to hold them in place. You let out a loud moan when his mouth finds your clit, his grip on your thighs stopping you from squirming or closing your legs around his head.
He’s barely even begun but you already feel like the air has been knocked from your lungs, the pleasure making you feel dizzy. Your hands reach for his hair, the groan that leaves his mouth when you pull making you shiver. Various obscenities leave your mouth as he alternates between licking and sucking, your legs already shaking as your high approaches dangerously fast.
It’s been months since you felt his tongue on you, and with his skill it was obvious you’d cum fast. You couldn’t hope to delay it even if you wanted to. His pace is perfect, remembering just how you like it as if there was never a break between you to begin with. You bite your lip, trying in vain to quiet the whimpers and moans that leave you as your high overtakes your body.
Even as your high recedes, Changbin doesn’t relent, keeping his pace on your clit as if nothing happened. You whine loudly, overstimulation setting fire to your skin. His strong hold on you prevents you from moving even an inch, all you can do is lie there and continue to take the onslaught of overwhelming, almost painful, pleasure.
Not wanting to hurt his scalp with your harsh tugging, you move your hands to the bedsheets, clawing at them desperately. He squeezes your thighs in his hands, as if to ground you while he unrelentingly showers your clit with his affection. Your second orgasm comes even faster than the first somehow, back arching and eyes rolling back as your body tenses and releases in an instant.
As before, he continues through it, drawing it out and making you whine loudly when it quickly becomes too much to bear. Your arousal is practically gushing out of you, and you finally get a small moment of reprieve when Changbin moves to lick the cum from your hole. Your breathing is ragged, chest heaving and body buzzing.
Changbin removes one of his hands from your thigh, moving it to easily slide two of his fingers into your heat. You let out another choked gasp, his fingers wasting no time to locate your sweet spot and rub against it. “B-Binnie,” you stutter out between gasps, “I-I cant.” It’s almost too good, your brain reeling when he starts to thrust his fingers into you quickly.
He looks up at you, an almost playful glint behind the lust-filled look in his eyes. “Yes you can,” he encourages sweetly, letting go of your other leg to come closer to your face. He’s looking at you intently now, smiling as he watches you succumb to the pleasure you’re feeling. Your head is thrown back, nails digging into the bedsheet and bottom lip trapped between your teeth.
“Look at me,” he says, and he feels you clench tightly around his fingers when you do. His lustful expression makes you weak, his smile making your gut want to erupt into butterflies. You try to keep his gaze, to not close your eyes or look away, but it’s so hot you can barely stand it. You don’t think you’ll be able to handle much more of it without devolving into insanity.
You cum again, legs closing around his fingers and head falling back as you do. “Good girl, my good girl,” he praises you through it, slowing to a stop once he feels your body begin to relax. He gives you some time to catch your breath after he slides his fingers out of you, licking them clean before he stands from the bed. You watch as he finally removes his pants and boxers, and then returns to his position between your legs.
“I'm going to fuck you now,” he tells you, smiling when you let out a shy whine in response. Changbin lines himself up with your entrance, leaning down to kiss you as he slides in. The multiple orgasms make it easier for your body to accept him, the stretch still stinging but not at all bad.
He kisses you sweetly, always enjoying doing so while you got used to the feeling of his cock, loved making you taste yourself on his tongue as you acclimated to his size.
It didn’t take long for you to roll your hips against his, seeking blissful friction. “Baby just can’t wait?” Changbin asks teasingly, though he has to admit he loves it. If you weren’t so dazed from pleasure, you’d see he’s just as desperate as you, if not more so. He loves when you are as equally needy as him, when you become lost in him and how he makes you feel.
“You want to cum again, is that it?” he asks when he begins to finally thrust into you. “Y-Yes, want to cum,” you nod almost frantically, “want you to come too.” Changbin groans, your words always having an incredible effect on him. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll cum for you,” he promises as he picks up his pace, finding his rhythm with relative ease.
One hand holds yours while the other moves to your clit, rubbing it in circles. He whispers praises to you, each one making you clench around him. “Good girl, my perfect baby, doing so well, feels so good around me, love you,” he begins to babble as he chases his orgasm. He expected not to last long, but he’ll make sure it’s good for you until the end.
If your neighbors weren’t concerned before, they definitely are now given how loud your voice is carrying through the apartment. You can’t hold them back anymore, not that Changbin would let you in the first place, but you’re too far gone to care. His once steady pace quickly grows sloppy, his low moans turning into high pitched, breathy whimpers.
You reach your high first, mouth hanging open in a silent moan as your body quivers beneath his. Changbin follows closely behind, his hips stuttering as his cum shoots into you in hot spurts. You reach up, pulling him into one more kiss as he comes down from his high. His body relaxes, falling against you, though still careful not to crush you under his weight.
His head rests just under yours, and you kiss his temple, hand running through his hair lazily. “I love you,” you mumble, exhaustion clear in your voice.
Your eyes are closed, your movements slow, and Changbin finds it so endearing that even in this state you want to show your love. “I love you too baby, so much,” he kisses your cheek, as it’s the only place he can reach without moving from his spot.
He’ll take care of you soon, get the both of you cleaned up so you can sleep in his arms peacefully as you always did before, but for now, even if it’s just for a few moments, he wants to lay next to you. To hold your hand as the two of you catch your breath, to stare at your beautiful face, to feel the euphoria of having you as his.
He doesn't know what the future holds, but he’s decided that it's okay. He doesn’t need to hold every answer in his hands, or worry about could be’s and what if’s. He doesn’t know if this happiness will continue, if you’ll always be together without anything getting in your way, but how can he be satisfied with his life if he didn’t try? How can he be happy if he lives his life complacently?
Maybe the smart decision would have been to let you go, to never see you again and let yourselves go separate ways, but would he be content with that decision? Could he say he would never lie awake at night wondering if that was the right thing to do, or if he should’ve chosen differently? And if two things make him happy, does he really have to choose between them? Would it really be so bad to have both?
Nothing will be perfect, ever. No one is promised eternal joy, or a blessed life. No one can spend every moment happy, no one can have everything always go the way they want. The only guarantee in life is that you will suffer– but it is what you do with that suffering that shapes what your life will become from that point onward.
Maybe what he has now with you is fleeting. Maybe years from now it’ll crumble in front of him all over again. But isn’t it worth fighting for? If he has a chance to have everything he’s ever wanted, shouldn’t he do his best to take it? Shouldn’t he keep it in his hands, and protect it with all his might?
Even if it’s in vain, even if he’ll only suffer again in the future, this moment of happiness with you is worth it. Listening to your slowed breathing, feeling your skin against his, knowing that you love him and he loves you– it’s worth it. When he wakes up to your sweet voice, hears your elated laugh, sees your adorable expressions and beautiful body, it’s worth it.
Maybe you’ll live together in the future, and maybe you won't. Maybe you’ll have a family, and maybe you won’t. Maybe his career will remain unaffected, or maybe it won’t. Regardless of what could or couldn’t be, he won’t live with doubt.
He can be happy knowing he fought to keep you until the very end, if the end ever comes. He can live a life full of laughter and love, even if it’s only for a finite amount of time. And nothing will be perfect, ever, but as long as Changbin has you with him, it’s the closest he’ll ever have.
♡ Genre: heavy angst, fluff, very slice of life at times, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, college au, slow burn, eventual smut, kind of love at first sight?, basically my take on the ever classic misunderstood bad boy x good girl trope
♡ Word Count: 43.8k
♡ Summary: After spending much of her high school life mercilessly bullied, Y/N hoped that going to college would finally allow her to move on from her past and put the pain behind her. Her hopes are crushed when it becomes apparant that the biggest perpetrator doesn't intend on letting the past stay the past– that is, until she gets unexpectedly rescued by the one person her past bullies seem to fear messing with, and he promises to protect her whenever she calls him.
♡ Warnings: flashbacks to bullying, physical assault, implied sexual assault (nothing is explicitly written, only described vaguely), past / referenced parental death (not described), chan has more than a bit of a savior complex tbh lol, self-worth issues and self-destructive behavior, an abundance of strong language, discussions around depression / being depressed, brief descriptions of blood and injury, theft.
♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (baby, angel), implied loss of virginity (reader), as usual for my works there is so much kissing, nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), handjob, multiple orgasms, protected piv (shocking)
♡ Notes: please keep in mind that heavy topics and traumatizing events of various type are a main theme of this fic, so please read with discretion! heed the warnings and don't force yourself to read something you can't handle and won't enjoy! other than that, you can also read the story on my a03 where it is divided into chapters here updated 08/30/24: formatting fixes, slight changes to scenes and dialogue for improved cohesion
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
Isolation, exile, a profound sense of loneliness. Those are the feelings you are used to, the feelings that have permeated your being and seeped into the very foundations of who you are as a person. And you weren't always this way– in fact, you can pinpoint the exact moment in time where a sad, loathful existence became all you knew.
It began a little over 3 years ago, when you started your first day of high school. That first spring semester came upon you quickly, and while you were anxious to begin, there was an almost equal level of excitement. You unfortunately were arriving alone, with your friends from middle school having spread out to various different schools that suited either their families or their own ambitions for their future.
While you would have liked to go to the same prestigious schools as some of your friends, your father simply didn’t have the money to pay for that sort of thing. On top of that, admissions were fiercely competitive, and being intelligent didn’t matter if you weren’t in the top 1% lucky enough to earn yourself a scholarship. You needed to be perfect in every single way to be considered for the honor, and that’s something you simply weren’t, and would never be.
Maybe that was bleak, but you preferred to keep your hopes and expectations grounded in realism. You wouldn’t say that you lacked confidence necessarily– just that you know what is a realistic outcome and what isn’t.
And realistically, what were the chances of a miracle happening? Slim to none. So you tempered your expectations, you kept your hope on a leash, and you continued to have mundane hopes and dreams.
So it wasn’t arriving at your new, average school alone that made you the way you are now; you’d made your peace with that long before it happened. Sure, you would miss the friends you made in your younger years, but high school is supposed to be the place with the most opportunity.
As long as you gave it your best effort, you’d make new friends and new memories. You’d discover what your goals for the future are, you’d work towards them with earnesty and diligence, you’d make your father proud.
At least, that was your mindset going into it; and maybe those thoughts were a bit more optimistic than your usual, but they weren’t unrealistic by any means. All those hopes were tangible and achievable, nothing about them should have been out of reach or unobtainable.
And it wasn’t like you were losing contact with your friends forever– cellphones existed, and it would only be a matter of time before a free weekend arrived for you to meet up with them again. So all in all, you’d felt good. Sure, your circumstances weren’t the most ideal, but you were more than capable of making the best of them.
That’s what you thought at the time, anyways. Despite the perceived realism of your wishes, it quickly became clear to you that life had other intentions for you in the name of Park Jaehyung. A boy in the same class as you, who took a keen interest in you for reasons beyond your understanding.
It started with you noticing that he was often looking at you. You’d look up from your textbook or notes, eyes aimed at the board or your teacher for further instruction, and you’d notice his gaze in your peripheral vision. It didn’t bother you necessarily; you were friendless after all, and you thought maybe he was just trying to figure out if he should approach you.
You knew first hand how shyness or doubts could make a decision you really wanted to make more difficult than it needed to be, and the simple act of approaching a person for friendship could become the most nerve racking experience of your life.
You even considered approaching him first to make it easier on him. There were plenty of times you were able to be the brave friend simply because you wanted to help, moments where all anxieties were trumped by the simple desire to help a friend.
However, he ended up approaching you first in the end, on an otherwise uneventful Friday. Most of your classmates left quickly, eager to get a start on their weekends or meetup with fellow club members for practice for their upcoming events.
You were nervous as he approached but not necessarily in a negative way; at the time, you had no reason to believe he had any bad intentions with you. In fact, you were excited at the prospect of finally making a friend in your new environment after weeks of being awkward around everyone.
You were so ignorantly optimistic.
When you finished tucking your things away and lifted your head to look at Jaehyung, you met him with a smile. The conversation was pleasant at first, albeit a bit mundane. Simple small talk such as “how did you do on the test,” “how do you like the school,” and things of that nature.
You don’t remember how long you two talked like that, but what you do remember is the shift in atmosphere when his friends came into the room looking for him.
“What are you still doing in here, Jae? We’ve– Oh?” you remember one of his friends saying as he stepped into the room, pausing his sentence when he noticed the two of you stood at your desk talking.
The shift in Jaehyung’s expression was shockingly instant, the positivity of the boy in front of you quickly warping into an animosity that you could hardly comprehend. The friend, who you recognized as a boy who sat in the back of the classroom, let out a laugh as he stood in the doorway.
“I knew it! You do like her,” the boy chuckled with a smug expression. Jaehyung scowled as he turned away to face his friend's direction. “I told you, I don’t. I was just telling her to stay away from me,” he spits at his friend, “She’s obsessed with me.”
You were stunned, blood running cold as you looked at him in bewilderment. You just spent the last several minutes talking pleasantly and laughing, and now he’s lying about it right in front of you? So blatantly? Why?
Before you could even open your mouth to defend yourself, his friend laughed loudly. “I told you, you need to stop playing with the easy ones. They get way too attached, man.” He’d said as Jaehyung stepped away from you quickly, making his way to the door with haste.
You simply watched, the words playing in a loop in your brain. Jaehyung took one last glance at you before the pair of them exited the room, leaving you by yourself with your thoughts running a mile a minute. Easy? Easy how? Because you were alone all the time? Because you’re shy?
You didn’t really understand why his friend said that, or why Jae’s attitude changed so quickly. Naively, you started to think that maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, and you could clear it up on Monday when you saw him again. It was unlikely, but the shift in tone was so sudden that you really had nothing else to grasp onto to make sense of it.
But Monday came, and it was immediately clear to you that the pleasant Jaehyung you’d known for a short time was entirely fake. He’d approach you with venom, antagonize you any chance he got, his friends always cackling in the background. He’d call you names and push you around, a sick enjoyment clear on his face every time.
You’d wondered if this was his intention all along; to make you like him, to spend time with you because you were vulnerable before he’d turn it all around on you and embarrass you. His friend walking in on you in the classroom probably just sped things up a bit, and made him lose the need to build trust with you first.
Some days you’d be lucky, able to avoid them by bolting out of the room the minute the bell rang. Of course there were still times they caught up to you or got you into a corner, but for the most part, the strategy had worked.
Eventually though, that method became nearly impossible as they got used to the trick and found ways to get you in a corner consistently. You only ever managed to catch a break on days that they needed to stay behind for detention or to be disciplined by the staff.
You hoped, you prayed, harder than you ever had for anything, that one day they would grow tired of tormenting you and just leave you alone. That staff would actually help you instead of turning a blind eye, only intervening when the boys’ actions inconvenienced their ability to work. You prayed they’d get suspended, expelled even– an unrealistic hope you knew would never come true, as little of a priority to the school’s staff as you were.
But hope was all you had then. In those incredibly dark days, where your life was the hardest it had ever been, you’d started to see the appeal of having outlandish dreams. It was comforting to imagine a world where everything about your life was perfect, where you'd easily obtained your goals and led the life you had always dreamed of, free of hurt and sadness.
There was no comfort in being a realist, no solace in the tangible. And you were tired. Not the physical kind of tired that came with a hard day's work, but mentally.
You were exhausted from the constant abuse, the unending loneliness, the hopelessness that was laid out so plainly in front of you. And so you would hope; hope for a better day, an easier existence, a friend.
You hoped that you’d be a braver person than you were the day before, hoped that one day the school would finally take action, hoped that one day Jae would get bored of you and finally leave you alone. You knew painfully well how improbable it was, but it was all you had.
All of it was out of your control, no matter what you did or how hard you prayed; it didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change, but even still you couldn’t let go of that hope. It was around that time however, that you realized there was something you could control– your academic scores. If you just devoted yourself to studying, to doing well on tests and keeping up your GPA, you could get yourself into a good school and put all this behind you.
You didn’t get into as good of a school as you would have liked, the strain that Jaehyung’s bullying put on your brain made studying a herculean effort, but you managed to do well enough to get accepted into a decent college just outside the city. It was enough- as long as you stuck to campus, you’d likely never see Jae again. He’d stay in the city, doing god knows what, and you’d get the fresh start you desperately needed, away from the person that made you miserable.
It's been 6 months since you moved into the campus dorms and began attending classes. Your roommates already knew each other, having been childhood friends who promised to go to the same school, but they never made you feel left out or like an outsider in your shared dorm room. They were kind, funny, and outgoing, and it would be no exaggeration to say they adopted you, bringing you out of your shell bit by bit and helping you return to the person you used to be.
There’s still pain, sadness, and loneliness, of course. Those feelings don’t just go away, but for the first time in years you began to feel.. Happy. Like things were finally going your way.
You could breathe without needing to constantly look over your shoulder, or be perpetually afraid of when a moment of happiness would inevitably crumble. You could finally live. The universe seemed to want to have a laugh at your expense, however– because what would be more ironic and tragic than bringing you back to the person you hate most.
You’d never been to a party– not entirely by choice, but because the opportunity had never come your way, solitary and friendless as you were. And now that you were in college, where the surroundings are rife with parties and carefree nights, it just felt.. Unnatural for you to be involved.
Like you were trying to blend where you didn’t belong, and that everyone would see through you. They would recognize you for what you were all through high school; a girl desperate for friends that no one ultimately cared about.
But your roommates, the social butterflies that they were, insisted that you come with them after excitedly telling you of the invite they received. You protested at first, feeling like you'd be much too awkward and out of place in the situation to have any fun, but they were tireless in their efforts to convince you to go with them.
And really, you couldn't blame them for trying so hard– you'd told them about your desire to branch out, to make more friends and experience new things, and a party was arguably one of the best places to do that. So you conceded in the end, letting them help you plan your outfit and be your guides through what was supposed to be a fun, new experience.
And it was fun– for a time. Your friends helped you come out of your shell the most you’d ever had, introducing you to other people they knew either from their classes or from the clubs they were part of. You felt included, like you were finally part of a group, like you no longer had to be the person who watched from afar while others mingled and laughed together.
It’s almost funny how that feeling of belonging and joy you finally felt came crashing down on you in an instant. You didn’t see him at first, and if you had, you definitely wouldn’t have separated yourself from your friends. You were supposed to be gone just a moment, a quick run to the bathroom and refresh of your drink before you’d rejoin them.
But there Jae was, standing near the stairs that led up to the bathroom, chatting with the same group of friends he’d had in high school. Your mind reeled, blood chilling as your eyes settled on him for the first time since graduation. You stood frozen for a moment, body being bumped by those trying to dance or move past you as the music continued to blare.
You suddenly became conscious of every little thing– the volume of the music in your ears, the amount of people standing between you and him, how the hairs on your neck and arm began to stand on end. You could feel the way your palms clammed up as you closed your fingers into a fist, and the thumping of your heart became loud and erratic, to the point it began to drown out everything else.
You tried to rationalize with yourself, to calm your screaming nerves and bring your racing heart under your control. He hadn’t noticed you, and if you were lucky, and quick, he wouldn’t at all. Besides, you weren’t the same person you were in high school. You had friends now, a new home and a new life. He couldn’t torment you anymore– you wouldn’t let him.
You take a breath, steeling yourself to walk past the man who brought you so much misery, and hope for the best. Your legs felt like lead, each step taking excruciating effort to complete. You try to keep your head down, letting your hair fall over your face to hide your recognizable features as much as possible.
You look up as you reach the steps, realizing that you’re unconsciously holding your breath as you do. Your eyes meet– not Jae’s, but his friends. And you can tell by the way he laughs, one of disbelief as much as it is amusement, that he recognizes you easily. “What?” you hear Jae question as he turns his head to see what his friend is reacting to, his eyes landing squarely on you.
Dread is the only word that can be used to describe what you feel when his eyes meet yours. Your reaction is immediate, panic settling in as you rush past them, and dart up the stairs. You just had to make it to the bathroom, and then everything would be fine. And you do, closing the door shut quickly behind you and locking it with a loud click.
You take a moment to breathe, to think with clarity now that you were within the safe space of a closed, locked room. You’re not proud of the visceral reaction seeing Jae gave you, the way you ran as soon as soon as his gaze locked on you.
You wonder how you looked to the others settled around the steps– hopefully, just like a drunk girl in desperate need for the bathroom, instead of a dreadfully panicked one. Regardless, your dash up the steps was certainly unceremonious and embarrassing, and you hate the thought that it gave Jae or any of his friends a laugh.
You let out a sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends, hoping they’re not too drunk or that the music is too loud for them to hear their phones. You do your business, wash your hands, check your appearance in the mirror. You check your phone, and then check it again, and then once more, but no response from your friends ever comes through.
You sigh, knowing you can’t camp out in the bathroom much longer than you have already. There are loads of people here, and someone’s going to need it sooner or later. And besides, he surely wouldn’t still target you now that you were all grown adults, right?
It’s likely he didn’t even follow after you, and is just laughing that even now you’re still afraid of him. You moved on, and surely he has to– you can’t let your fear of him control you the way it did when you were in school together.
With another breath to calm your nerves, you unlock and open the door, and see that a small line did in fact start to build in front of the bathroom door while you were holed up inside of it. You offer an apology to the people waiting as you move past to allow the first person in, making your way quickly back towards the steps in the hopes that Jae is either no longer in that area, or has no interest in you anymore, and that you can return to where your friends are without issue.
But of course, he’s there, standing at the top of the steps, very clearly waiting for you. Your heart sinks to your stomach, the smile that spreads on his face making you sick. “Long time no see, huh?” he says as he takes a step closer to you, his light, airy voice a stark contrast to the intentions you know he has. You don’t respond, which he takes as his sign to continue. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Don’t you want to catch up?”
“I need to get back to my friends,” you say, finally finding your voice after the initial shock. It’s not as strong as you’d like, but considering you’ve never stood up for yourself before now, it’s enough to show how much you’ve changed since he last saw you.
“Oh, you have friends now? That’s interesting,” he responds easily, taking what little pride for yourself you fostered and crushing it beneath his heel. Before you realize it, your back is pressed against the nearest door, Jae closing the distance between you with proficient ease.
Your breath catches in your throat, eyes darting to the side where the line for the bathroom remains unchanged. If you made a scene, would they help you? You honestly weren’t sure; they were all strangers to you, with varying levels of intoxication affecting them, and from their perspective, you and Jae could easily appear to be a couple sharing an intimate moment before trying to sneak away to a room. The thought alone makes your stomach churn.
“Oh don’t worry about them, they won’t interrupt,” Jae says, that same sickeningly smug smile on his face as he seemingly has the same thought you just had. You know what comes next- his hands on you, a contact you loathe above all else, that makes your skin scream and recoil.
Things were supposed to be different now. You weren’t supposed to ever see him again, but maybe you were a fool for believing that you created enough distance from him for that to be the case. But you didn’t come this far to be the same person you were then- you were supposed to be different, to be strong.
You want to be strong, to have the courage to stand up for yourself and tell him to go fuck himself. If you don’t act now, then what was it all for? You can’t let yourself go back to the meek person who just accepted it whenever she was hurt. You clench your fists, you gather your courage, and for the first time ever, you raise your voice to him. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He doesn’t take you seriously in the slightest, laughing as if your words mean nothing as he reaches his hand out to touch you. In a moment of unparalleled bravery on your part, you slap it away, conveying clearly that you won’t allow him to torment you anymore. There’s surprise in his eyes for a moment, though it fades as quickly as it appeared, replaced by seething anger.
He wraps your hair in his fist, holding your head back with so much force that a searing ache spreads over your scalp. “You wanna try that again? I don't think you're thinking clearly." Jaehyung's voice is dark and threatening as he holds your head in place.
So now he’s taking you seriously, huh? You glare at him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as your fists tremble, 3 years worth of contempt rising forth all at once, practically begging to be set free, to be unleashed on the awful man before you who made your life a living hell.
You were still scared of him, if you were being honest with yourself, but you had to be different. You had to. He was much stronger, his grip on you was painful, but if you gave up now, then what was it all for? Your perseverance had to mean something, it had to lead you to somewhere better, to help you become someone you were proud to be. You can’t let it be meaningless.
You’re about to open your mouth to scream, determined to make a scene that can’t go ignored by anyone in the vicinity, when a voice you don’t recognize calls to Jaehyung, taking you both by surprise. “What the fuck are you doing?” the unfamiliar voice call from the direction of the stairs, and you’re able to turn your head just enough to see someone standing at the top of them, arms crossed with an incredulous look on his face.
“Shit,” you hear Jaehyung mutter under his breath when he turns his gaze away from you, looking at the man who is (thankfully) interrupting the moment. “What are you doing here?” Jae asks as he slowly loosens his grip on your hair, his teeth clenching as he begrudgingly releases you from his grasp.
“Don’t tell me you came to this party not knowing you’re in my fucking house. That’s my room you’re blocking, so move,” the man says, voice stern and unflinching. Jaehyung’s expression in response is strange– he’s very clearly annoyed, angry, but there’s something else there too that you’ve never seen on him.
He’s… intimidated? “Oh c'mon, man. You don’t mind letting an old friend borrow your room, right?” Jae’s voice turns jovial, a vain attempt at familiarity and friendliness. The stranger’s expression changes, a scoff leaving his lips as he looks at Jae in disbelief.
The man looks at you next, observing your body language and quickly processing what it tells him. You’re very clearly distressed, body trembling, eyes angry and glossy with unshed tears; you want out of this, and now.
“Doesn’t seem to me that she’s into you,” the stranger says matter-of-factly, stating the truth of the matter as he sees it. “And you’re insane if you think I’m letting you use my room for this shit– or anyone’s for that matter.”
“She’s just shy, isn’t that right? You’re not used to us being interrupted?” Jae says it with a sickly sweet smile before he turns his gaze back to you, leaning closer as his next words leave him in a whisper intended for only you to hear, a not so thinly veiled threat for you to play along with him, “I’m not done with you yet.”
If it were the you of half a year ago, you probably would have buckled under the pressure, yielded to whatever it was he wanted from you. You would’ve been too afraid of the repercussions that would follow if you didn’t, afraid of what worse action he’d have in store for you if you didn’t listen to his commands.
And that’s what Jae wants– he wants to put that fear back inside you, to remind you of all that he made you feel, all that he caused you to lose, to turn you back into the person he knew and expected you to be.
You refuse to give him the satisfaction. “Get the fuck away from me,” you say, doing your best to make your voice as steady as you can possibly make it. You can feel the rage radiating off him, and you have to admit, it’s extremely gratifying to watch him struggle, to see him flounder after being challenged.
He storms off, anger and bitterness seeping off him, as the man who saved you steps aside to let him pass– though Jae still manages to shoulder checks the stranger angrily on his way out. A sigh of relief leaves you once your tormentor is out of sight, thankful for the ordeal to finally be over.
“Are you alright?” the stranger who evidentially lives here asks as he takes a tentative step closer to you, clearly not wanting to make you feel boxed in and cornered the way Jaehyung had.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thank you,” you say as you separate yourself from what you remember is apparentally his bedroom door, fixing your clothes in the places that Jae caused it to crumple.
When you look up, you see that he is looking you over for any noticeable injury– whoever he is, it’s apparent he knows who Jaehyung is and how he does things. It also makes you curious about how they know each other, and what it is about him that made Jae leave without putting up a real fight.
He has dark curly hair that pairs well with his piercing gaze, but you didn't find him particularly frightening based on appearance alone. In fact, you actually thought he'd look sweet if he wasn't frowning so hard right now.
He did seem quite athletic though, and you could see how bulky his arms were underneath the sleeves of his black tee. Maybe it was the difference in strength that deterred him? Jae is stronger than you, sure, but he wasn’t as built as the stranger who saved you.
Or maybe Jae is simply all bark, and no bite? That’d be ironic– your biggest tormentor being someone who is inherently a coward. But isn’t that how it usually goes? The weak preying on the weaker for the sake of gratification and a sense of superiority they wouldn’t otherwise obtain.
And who better to play that role for him than you? You, who was lonely and eager to make a friend, who was too timid and kind for her own good, and without the inner strength to fight back.
“You’re welcome to join me in my room, if you want. Uhm, not in like, a weird way or anything– just to make sure Jae will leave you alone if he's still around. We’ll leave the door open so you’re comfortable and– uh, yeah.” You can’t help but smile a little following his suggestion– it’s a little awkward, but well intentioned, and you appreciate the attempt he’s making to comfort you following a tense interaction.
You follow him inside, and true to his word, he makes no move to close the door behind you, leaving it wide open and looking out into the adjacent hallway. Looking around, you notice that his room is more.. Minimalistic than you would’ve expected from a college aged guy. A decently sized bed, a bookshelf that contained more empty space than anything, a desk that held only a laptop and a rather old looking stuffed wolf toy that you assumed was from his childhood.
There was no clutter, no mess, no decoration– nothing that tells you a guy in his early 20s occupies the space. Apart from the led lights circling the ceiling, the walls are bare, with no pictures or posters to give insight into his interests or personality. “You can sit wherever,” he says, intending to let you have first pick for comfort’s sake.
You decide to sit at his desk, concluding that it's the better of your two options, and he flops on his bed, eyes on the ceiling as a slight sigh leaves his lips. “Regretting throwing a party?” you ask, noticing how exhausted he seems to be– dark circles under his eyes serving as a clear sign that something in his life is causing him fatigue and lack of sleep.
“It’s not my party, it’s my brothers. The whole party thing isn’t really for me, but he wants the “whole college experience” or whatever, so, you know.. Yeah,” he closes his eyes for a moment as he speaks, seeming to think about what he wants to say before he continues to speak. “He won't have time for things like this once the fall semester starts, so why not let him have his fun until then? That’s what I think, anyways.”
You nod, silently wondering if his brother is anyone you met downstairs, though you don’t recall meeting anyone that looks similar to him. “Do you both go to school here?” you ask, thinking it’d be nice if they do– you could do with some more friends in your life, especially ones that go to the same campus you do.
“Oh, no, I–” he hesitates a moment, an almost indiscernible look on his face as he slightly tenses, just enough for you to gather that this topic is a bit tense for him. “I dropped out. Of high school, I mean. The whole school thing doesn’t suit me– got enough bills to pay and things to take care of without that added expense and worry, you know?”
You get it– you honestly do. Dropping out is a hard decision to make, one that society doesn’t understand comes with great personal grief and difficulty. Most people who drop out don’t do it because they want to, but because they have to, or feel there’s no other choice in the face of whatever it is they’re dealing with.
There was even a time you considered it; when your bullying was at its worst, and before you found solace in pouring all your energy into studying. “I completely understand; I almost dropped out too. And I wouldn’t even be going to school now if it wasn’t for my scholarship.”
“Really?” he sits up now, surprise written on his face as he looks at you. “Yeah, I– ..didn’t have the best high school experience,” you sigh, hesitating to meet his gaze right away. He’s a stranger to you, you don’t know what happened to him, and he doesn’t know what happened to you, but there’s a strange sort.. Connection you feel?
Like kindred spirits– two souls who lived different lives, who are on a different path, but somehow are still the same. You look at him again, realizing you don’t feel the need to hesitate or hold back your words. There’s something about him that seems trustworthy, and the sincere empathy in his eyes makes you believe that he’s someone you can confide in without regrets.
“I was depressed, alone. I had no friends, and I don’t mean it felt that way, I literally didn’t have anyone. And Jaehyung, he– well, you saw. It was like that every single day, unrelenting. Studying was the only thing I had to escape my thoughts and feelings, so I poured everything I had into my grades. I started to view college as an escape– like if I got accepted, all my problems would be solved. I could start over, be a different person,” you swallow, emotions threatening to choke you up as you talk about your experience, but you continue on despite it.
“Unfortunately, schools are competitive, and recruiters could easily see that despite having good enough grades, I didn’t have the confidence or social standing to back myself up, so they chose other people. But the school here accepted me, and even though it’s still close to where I grew up I hoped it would be enough. I could meet new people, get away from everything that brought me down, and become the person I always wanted to be. And I have– you know, for the most part anyways.”
There’s a silence that lingers for a moment, one that makes you start to feel stupid for deciding to unload all that information on someone you just met, but when you meet his eyes again you no longer feel shame. As before, there is a sincere empathy, an understanding, a care, that you’d never experienced before now.
You never talked about Jae to anyone new you met, and even your friends only know about him in the vaguest of terms because it was so hard to relive and talk about openly. But the person you met today– he saw it, in its rawest, unfiltered form, and he cared. Genuinely cared. And when you think back to all the times someone saw what was happening and ignored it, knew you were suffering and didn’t think twice about it, that care matters.
He looks contemplative as well; like he’s thinking carefully on his words, and what impact they’ll have, as if formatting the perfect response to your admission is of crucial importance to him. And in a way, it is, because even though he’s just met you, he sees you for who you are– someone like him. Damaged. Lonely. Yearning for a connection that doesn’t yet exist, but could if you found the right person.
He opens his mouth to speak, the words he wants to say on the tip of his tongue, but is quickly interrupted and drowned out by your phone suddenly ringing. You pull it out of your pocket quickly, and see your friend's name and photo brightly illuminated on the screen.
“Y/N? I’m so sorry, I just saw your text! Are you still upstairs? I’ll come get you–” your friend comes through loud and urgent, doing her best to be heard over the loud music that surrounds her downstairs.
“I’m fine, I promise! Where are you right now? I’ll meet you,” you assure her as you stand up from your seat, preparing yourself to leave the room. The conversation ends quickly, with you confirming with each other that you’ll meet at the base of the stairs and then head home together.
“I’ll get going now, my friends are waiting for me, but.. before I go I just wanna say thank you for tonight, uhm..” your sentence trails off as a realization hits you. Right. You still don’t know his name yet. Thankfully, he seems to know where you’re going, and offers his name to you before you have to ask. “Chan,” he says simply, “I’m Bang Chan.”
You smile as you repeat his name, offering your own afterwards to which he acknowledges with a nod. You make it to the door before you stop, turning back to look at him one last time before you go. “I’ll see you around..?” you ask, hoping you don't come across as too desperate to meet him again.
“Mm, yeah, sure,” Chan replies nonchalantly, though the corners of his mouth raise in the hint of a smile. And though it’s only a slight display, it makes you smile back at him. Because even though he comes across as aloof and reserved, you've gotten the impression that he's a nice person underneath his layers.
You found yourself thinking a lot about him when you were in bed that night; wondering about who he is beyond what you initially see, about what makes him who he is and drives what he does. Someone who is clearly empathetic beneath their rough exterior, who has compassion even for those he doesn't know, someone you want to befriend. You hoped you'd meet and talk to him again soon.
You sigh as you approach Sunshine Cafe, your go-to stop for coffee and a sweet breakfast before beginning your day in earnest. The fall semester has spared you no mercy since it began weeks ago, with your new professors hitting you with an increasingly grueling workload and frustratingly tight deadlines.
You’ve barely had time for anything, and your daily coffee is truly the only thing getting you through the immense amount of homework and academic papers that’ve been dropped into your lap. It also occurred to you that you greatly overestimated your ability to run into Chan again.
You thought it’d only be a matter of time, at first. Though he doesn’t attend the local college like you and his brother do, he still has a house near campus, and even if meeting at another party was unlikely, there were still plenty of places you could end up seeing one another. And yet, either due to the amount of work that needed done keeping you home, or Chan himself also having a busy schedule, that time never came.
Should you have just asked for his number before you left? It’s something you’d think about since that night, wondering if that would’ve been too forward or made him uncomfortable, because who knows if he wanted to be your friend as much as you wanted to be his. There was a lot you liked about Chan following your first interaction with him, but was there anything he liked about you?
It was hard to say; you certainly hoped so, but you weren’t exactly confident in your ability to make connections with people. Apart from that, a search of his name online didn’t lead to any social media platforms you could add or follow him on.
A bit strange for someone his age to be completely void of a social media presence you might think, but he didn’t really seem the type to spend his days scrolling instagram or writing personal posts on twitter in the first place.
And honestly, wasn’t it silly to be so stuck on someone you’d met and talked to so briefly? You were broaching pathetic territory if you were being honest with yourself, but you truly couldn’t help it. There was something different about him, and not in that corny love at first sight way your friends might assume if you brought the issue up to them. You could see it in the way he interacted with you and listened to you.
The more you thought about it though, the more embarrassed you felt about it; why did you unload your deepest feelings on a stranger? Because having a little bit of alchol in your system made you uninhibited enough to feel the need to bare your entire heart? Because he was nice to you?
That’s so pitiful, you’d laugh at yourself if it wasn’t so depressing. Even if you did run into him again, it’d probably be best to avoid his gaze, and save yourself from the realization that he actually thought you were a fucking weirdo, and only listened to you to be polite.
God, you were spiraling– one minute thinking it’d be best if he never saw you again, and the next praying he’d show up in your life regardless, even if just for a moment. But really, you just wanted to know– know for sure if you just imagined the way he cared to make yourself better, or if what you felt then was real. And if it was real, why?
No one ever protected you before, and it was hard for you to imagine a world where someone would do that for you purely out of the kindness of their heart. You know selfless, compassionate people exist, but not for you.
Even with the friends you had now, you’d hesitate to believe that they’d do anything for you beyond the surface level of friendship. And that was no fault of their own, of course; you knew it was a response to your own trauma that led you to think that way. But now that you were met with the evidence that someone could be kind to you purely for the sake of it, you struggled to grapple with it.
You could argue that your friends are nice to you purely because you’re also assigned roommates, and you needed to have a good relationship for your home life to be copasetic. They introduced you to the people in their life because living in their space meant you’d be around them as well, and by extension they were only nice to you because they needed to be. But Chan– what reason did he have to do anything for you? To listen to you or offer kindness?
He wasn’t the first person to show you kindness after you came here, but he was the first to do so with seemingly no explanation behind it. To be kind and help you just because it was what was right, and for no reason other than that– that’s what made him different, and made you want to see him again, to get to know him.
Another sigh leaves your lips now as you stand in line, waiting to order. You really need to stop dwelling on it and focus on more critical things at hand, i.e your paper that's due tonight and still needs to be proofread.
Yes, it’s best to do what you’re used to doing, and pour all your frustrations and worries into getting yourself the best grades you possibly can. You’ll head back to your dorm as soon as your coffee is in hand, and spend the rest of your morning (and a good portion of your afternoon) into ensuring that your paper is as perfect as it can be.
Felix, the blonde, freckled barista who has come to memorize your order, smiles sweetly as soon as he sees you. “Here’s your usual,” he says as he hands it over to you the moment you reach the counter; benefits to being a regular, and a creature of habit, you suppose– he always has your order ready for you by the time you make it to the front of the line. “Thanks, I really need it today,” you reply as you put your card in the reader to pay.
“Professor still kicking your ass?” he asks as he confirms the payment on his screen, letting you take your card out swiftly and fit it back into your wallet. “Pretty much,” you answer, though it’s not entirely true anymore; the amount of work you need to complete is definitely a major stressor, but it’s your brain’s fixation on Chan, and your subsequent worry about how you were perceived by him that plague yours thoughts and makes finishing your work much harder than it needs to be. Felix doesn’t need to hear about any of that, though.
You thank him for serving you before you step away to allow the line to continue to flow, and he wishes you luck with the rest of your day before he greets his next customer. You scarf down your doughnut before you step outside to leave the building, the crisp fall air instantly helping to bring your mind back to a place of normalcy. A few small sips of your drink, a tossing of your trash in the public bin, and you’re ready to make your way back to your room to tackle the behemoth of a paper you wrote that needs reviewing.
You make it only a few steps before you’re stopped by a voice you dread hearing saying your name from behind you, one that the universe seems to love to remind you that you can’t run away from. “I’ve been looking for you,” he smiles as he steps in front of you, cutting off your path and making you stop walking.
The blood in your veins feels ice cold, the alarms in your brain deafeningly loud. Fuck. How did Jae find you here?
Stumbling upon each other at a random party, as unpleasant and unfortunate as it was, was at least feasible. College parties weren’t limited to the host’s affiliation; word of mouth took campus parties to new heights, their friends invite their friends who then invite theirs, turning what one might intend to be a simple get together between close friends and roommates into something much larger than the host ever intended.
Yes, as much as you hated it when you ran into him, the party setting you were brought into made the most logistical sense. But here? At a small off-campus coffee shop at 9am? What the fuck was he doing here?
Surely if this was a place he frequented you wouldn’t have gone so many months without coming across one another. Which leaves you to think only one thing, that you desperately hope isn’t true- he sought you out on purpose.
“I don’t want to see you,” you say, voice as stern as you can possibly make it despite the way your nerves threaten to eat you alive. You’re doing your best not to panic, reasoning with yourself that things on your side in the situation; you’re in a public space, on a fairly active street with plenty of witnesses, and lots of options for safety. As long as you don’t freeze up or mentally shut down, you’ll be okay.
You take a step in an attempt to walk past him, but of course, he doesn’t want to allow you to leave so easily. “C’mon, don’t be like that,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to portray himself as innocently pleading for your time, but his smirk deceives his intentions. You opt to ignore him, shifting to the side to once again make your way past him.
He reaches out to grab your arm, instantly stopping you in your tracks. “Let go of me!” you protest, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp, but to no avail. Your eyes scan the area, seeking a way to get yourself out of this situation as quickly as possible. As if sensing this, Jae pulls you towards the nearby shop alley, dragging you into it with him.
Your coffee falls to the ground in the struggle, splashing your legs and drenching the soles of your shoes. Your eyes water, race burning red as a wave of emotions washes over you– shame, anger, misery, all of which make him laugh.
“It’s a shame we were interrupted last time, isn’t it? And you don’t have your guard dog here to protect you, how sad,” he taunts, infinitely condescending in the way he speaks to you, “Go ahead and cry, he’s not gonna save you this time.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your hardest to suppress the rising panic. You need to will yourself to move, to be loud, to make it impossible for him to take advantage of you any further. You take a breath and open your eyes, surprised to see someone standing directly behind Jae– Chan.
He’s yanked away from you in a sudden motion as a hand grabs his shoulder, stumbling backwards and landing awkwardly on his right foot, clutching you tighter in his hand to try and steady himself. “Wha– who the fuck?”
“Fuck off. Don’t make me teach you a lesson again,” Chan’s voice is low as he grabs Jae by the wrist and twists it, causing him to grit his teeth and finally release you from his grasp. Jae scowls as Chan’s grip on his wrist loosens, curses and insults quickly being muttered under his breath as he shoots you both furious looks.
“You heard me. Go,” Chan says, eyebrow raised with a look that says ‘test me and you’ll regret it.’ Begrudgingly, he retreats while calling you both less than kind names and rubbing his wrist. Chan hears them of course, but making sure you’re okay is more of a priority than fixing Jae’s loose mouth.
“You alright..?” he asks, looking you over for injury as he did the first time he stopped Jae from harming you. You stayed silent however, your brain struggling to process the fact that Chan is here and helped you again– and he eventually frowns. Jae may be a fucking imbecile, but he was smart when he wanted to be; he didn’t hurt you enough to leave any marks– at least not anywhere Chan could see clearly.
On top of that, you still hadn’t responded yet, and he wasn’t entirely sure when your altercation even began; it was pure coincidence that he turned the corner to reach Sunshine Cafe and saw you being pulled away to the adjacent alley.
But he heard what he said as he approached; “guard dog,” Jae called him. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’ll be if Jae refuses to leave you alone– your personal guard dog, ready to attack as needed.
He cautiously taps your shoulder, his eyebrows knitting together in a clear sign of concern, “Hey… you okay..?” You nod, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat. You were in shock more than anything, you think. Jae tormented you for years, and you’d grown used to it over the years. Hair pulling, tripping, slapping, dumping water on you.. Things that though you hated, you were used to and came to expect.
But now? Now that you’d left that behind, began to live your life with a sense of fulfillment and joy, were away from all that once dragged you to the depths of despair.. You realized how much those things still hurt, how the time and distance didn’t cure or absolve you of your pain.
And you hated that he found you, hated that his presence still had an effect on you, hated how easy it was for him to reverse all of the positive progress you made. Most of all, you just hated Jae– truly, deeply hated him.
You could tell you were shaking, felt the tears in the corners of your eyes threatening to fall, embarrassed by the fact that Chan once again has to see you at your lowest when you’ve just barely formed a friendship. It’s humiliating in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t felt it themselves– the shame that comes with feeling inadequate, in looking weak in the face of someone you don’t want to see you that way.
Chan looks down, seeing what he assumes is the remnants of your fresh coffee spilled on the concrete, whipped cream and caramel splattered in all directions from the impact they made with the ground. He kneels down, grabbing the plastic cup and turning it to the front, confirming what he already suspected; your name, written in big, black letters with a sharpie, followed by a sticker with the specifics of your order.
He looks back at you as he stands back up, still holding your cup in his hands despite how sticky it’s become from splashed coffee. “Hey, look.. I’m sorry– Jae was pissed that I helped you last time, right? It's my fault, so why don’t I buy you a new coffee?”
“Huh?" you blink, surprised by his offer; once again, he's helping you when he has no reason to, and trying to process it makes your brain lag. "Oh– you don’t have to do that! It’s not your fault at all, he’s always treated me that way. He probably would’ve done this again even if you hadn’t helped the first time,” you respond after a moment, not yet meeting his gaze.
Chan frowns at your answer; he knows Jae well enough to know that’s true, but it doesn’t piss him off any less. He’s always been like that– a coward in wolf’s clothing, always preying on whoever wants and thinking he can get away with it. “Unlock your phone and hand it to me,” he says, holding his hand out to you expectantly.
You furrow your brows in confusion, but do as he asks regardless, fishing through your pocket and quickly putting in your password before passing it to him. Chan locates your contacts page easily, adding his number to the relatively short list. “Call me next time,” he says as he hands it back to you.
You stare at your phone for a few moments, processing the information slowly before you look up at him. “You.. I can call you?” “Of course.” His response is nonchalant in tone, but you can tell he’s being genuine, just as before.
You don’t understand why he’s consistently so kind to you, someone who is effectively a stranger, who he has no reason to look out or care for. Stopping a bad situation he came across once made enough sense, especially since it was happening in his own house, but to devote himself to regularly helping you was completely different. Was he really that selfless?
“What if you don’t answer..?” you finally ask, still struggling to make sense of his kindness towards you. “I’ll answer,” he replies easily, as if that’s the only option there is. “What if Jae takes my phone? Or I can’t reach it?” you continue, because surely he can’t be serious.
Why would he do that for you? Chan’s expression shifts to one you can’t read, full of thoughts and emotions you couldn’t possibly read before he speaks again, “Yell if you have to. If you call, I’ll hear it. I’ll come running as soon as I can.”
You tear up for the second time today, though this time for a reason completely different from before; you’re grateful to have someone who wants to be there for you unconditionally. After suffering for so long, you began to believe that you were beyond selfless kindness, that it was something you would never experience or have offered to you. And in your current state, it seems that even the smallest ounce of it is enough to make you emotional.
“H-Hey, don’t cry!” Chan’s voice is suddenly filled with worry, a stark contrast to the aloof tone he seems to typically have. And really, he isn’t sure what to do– he’s never had to comfort a girl who was crying before.
You wipe your face, trying your best to calm down quickly and offer him an appreciative smile. “Sorry, this is actually super embarrassing..” you awkwardly laugh as you rub your eyes dry, hoping that he won’t change his mind and decide you’re not worth it.
“No, it’s okay.. You’ve been through a lot on your own,” his tone softens, clearly trying to relay sympathy for you. You nod, steadying yourself with a deep breath before you finally look at him directly, without embarrassment or shame for your feelings. “Thank you, Chan.”
“Of course,” he says, giving you a small pat on the head in the same way he used to do to comfort his brothers when they were upset. “Let’s get you a new coffee, yeah?”
You nod again, deciding to take him up on his offer and let him buy you a new coffee. “Just stick close to me, okay?” Chan reaches his free hand out to you, offering for you to take it if you’d like to. And you do, deciding to ignore the way your heart picks back up in speed when your hand is in his.
You know there’s no romantic intent, but that doesn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in your stomach at the contact. You can tell he’s just a sweet person, that there’s nothing special about this interaction, that he’d likely do this for anyone in a similar situation to you, but regardless of your rational thoughts, you can’t calm your heart, or prevent it from skipping a beat when he gives it a reassuring squeeze before leading you out of the alley.
It doesn’t take more than a few moments to reach the cafe again, the line having drastically shortened since you were here minutes prior. Rather than wait in the line however, Chan walks directly to the counter, with you nervously in tow. The waiting customers shoot you both angry looks, but they ultimately choose not to say anything about your transgression.
“I’m sorry, I need to take care of this real quick,” Felix says to the angry girl waiting at the front that Chan just caused you to cut off, giving her an apologetic look before turning to the both of you. “Channie-hyung! And Y/N..?” He looks puzzled to see the two of you together, and really you can’t blame him. You were just here, and now here you are again, with a guy you’ve never brought up, and–
Wait. Channie-hyung? They know each other?
“Felix, can you make her another one of these? I’ll pay for it,” Chan says, holding your ruined coffee cup to the poor barista to look at. “Don’t worry hyung, I know her order. And you don’t have to pay! I’ll take care of it,” Felix says as he takes the cup from Chan’s hands, tossing it in a bin underneath the counter before he turns to make you a new drink. Chan grumbles something under his breath about how Felix should let him pay, a subtle frown growing on his face.
“Chan,” you speak up, and he turns his head in your direction, a small “hmm?” leaving his lips. “Your other hand– it’s sticky from the coffee, isn’t it? Do you want to go rinse it off?”
“Oh– yeah, uh, I guess it is,” he says, clenching and unclenching his fist as if he only just realized when you brought it up. “I’ll be right back,” he says, letting go of your hand to make his way to the public bathroom on the other end of the cafe.
You breathe a sigh of slight relief, because as much as you enjoyed holding his hand, it made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. “Here you go,” Felix says as he holds your newly made drink out to you, though instead of his usual smile, he’s looking at you full of curiosity.
“How do you know my brother?” he asks, and wow, does that take you by surprise. The cute, freckled boy who takes your order everyday and serves you with a sweet smile is Chan’s brother? You honestly can’t believe it.
“I, uhm, met him at a party. Wasn’t it your party?” you ask, remembering how Chan told you it was his brother’s and not his. Though as you recall, you didn’t see Felix there, and you definitely would’ve remembered if he was. “Oh, no! It wasn’t mine, it was Changbin’s!”
Oh, so Chan has more than one brother then? You’re about to ask to confirm, but the lady you cut off clears her throat impatiently, clearly fed up with waiting.
“Sorry ma’am, I’ll be right there!” Felix tells her politely before shifting his focus back to you, “Well, gotta get back to work, but I hope you’ll come by the house when I’m there next time! So we can talk more and be friends outside of the cafe!”
He then waves goodbye to you with a bright smile, turning his attention back to the customers in line while you’re left more than a little stunned. You always thought Felix seemed extremely sweet and fun to be around, so you’re definitely not opposed to seeing him outside of getting your morning coffee, but you didn’t expect a friendship to happen like this.
Chan returns shortly after, and though he isn’t smiling, he does seem glad that you have a fresh coffee in your hands. “You gonna be okay? Don’t need me to walk you to class or anything?” Chan asks and you shake your head, though the fact that he even asked practically makes your heart erupt.
“N-No, I was just gonna head home, I have a paper I need to work on and turn in tonight,” you explain, and he nods in acknowledgment, thinking a moment before he speaks. “I’ll see you around then. And uh.. you know. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”
“I will,” you smile, one that he returns ever so slightly. You thank him before you say your goodbye, waving as you make your way out of the door and back out onto the street. You take a sip of your coffee as you take your first steps back to your dorm, finding that it tastes much sweeter than the first one you had– and you like that.
Everything in your life has been that way; sweeter, more enjoyable, with Jae absent from it. And you hope that with your new friends by your side to help and support you, it will stay that way.
Chan is late getting home that night, the shit he had to do for work tonight being beyond exhausting and dirty. The first thing he does is shower, eager to get all the grime off his body so he can eat dinner and hopefully relax, if his brain and body will let him. He eats a microwave meal in relative silence when he’s clean, thinking about all that happened before he set off to work.
He knew it was only a matter of time before he met you again, but he didn’t expect it to be in negative circumstances again. He had a job in the area that day, and figured he’d stop by Sunshine Cafe to see and get a coffee from Felix before getting things done, only to stumble on the sight of Jae dragging you off against your will.
Without even thinking about it, he ran– he didn’t know how far Jae was going to take you, what he planned to do with you, and so he wasted no time to catch up to where he saw you go. Jae has a knack for pissing him off, but this went beyond a feeling as simple as that.
What Chan felt instead was disgust. He thought that Jae was easily the most reprehensible person he’d ever met, and that if he has nothing better to do than harass women, then he deserves to get his teeth knocked out of his skull– and Chan would happily be the one to do that.
And that’s what he planned to do when he pulled Jae back, but when he saw the look on your face, your eyes full to the brim of unshed tears and fear, he stopped. He didn’t want you to see his violent side, he realized.
The side of him that will punch and maim and hurt, that left people bloodied and bruised. When he told you that he was a drop out, and you didn’t judge him, instead offering your understanding and shared your experience with him, he knew you were someone compassionate and good.
Why did people like you always get hurt? He’d seen it countless times, and it always made him sick with anger. And everyone in his life knew that about him, saw first hand the things he was willing to do to protect someone, but for some reason he didn’t want you to see it.
Was it because he didn’t want to taint your impression of him? Because there was a part of him that was afraid that if you knew the kind of things he’s done, that you’d retract any desire to form a friendship with him? He wasn’t sure, but what he did know is that for whatever reason, he wanted you to see him as someone better.
It’s just past 11:30 when he flops down the couch with a sigh next to Hyunjin, who has some drama Chan doesn’t recognize playing on the tv. It was nights like tonight he wished he could turn his brain off, and not worry about what people think of him, nor be plagued by the memories of horrible things he’s done just to survive.
Checking his phone in hopes to find something else to focus on, he sees he received a few texts whilst he was busy– most from clients, a few updates from Changbin, who was complaining about the group project he was assigned from his professor and how he’s staying out tonight to complete it, and a few more from an unsaved number that he can safely assume is yours.
Hi Chan, it’s Y/N!
Thank you so much for everything. I really appreciate it <3
If you’re still sure, I hope it’s okay to rely on you while I keep gathering my courage
9:12 PM ✓
it’s fine rly i’m not gonna let some dickhead like jae do whatever he wants
you can rely on me as long as you want i don’t mind
call me anytime you need
11:34 PM ✓
“What are you smiling about?” Hyunjin asks as he peers over Chan’s shoulder to take a peek. Chan jumps slightly in surprise, locking his phone screen before sliding it into his pocket. “I wasn’t smiling.”
“Uh-huh, sure you weren’t. I believe you,” Hyunjin laughs in response. Chan sits there in an awkward silence for a few moments, before he glances over to see Hyunjin looking at him with a grin. “What?” Chan questions and Hyunjin lets out another small laugh.
“Y/N, huh? Is that the girl from Changbin’s party?” Chan wants to be angry that Hyunjin saw the name on his phone and is asking about it, but honestly, he’d be curious too if it were the other way around, so he can’t fault him for asking.
“Yeah. I saw her again today and gave her my number. Jae was harassing her again, and it pisses me off when he gets away with shit, so. You know.” He’s leaving out the part about his complex, unfamiliar feelings towards you, but Hyunjin doesn’t need to know them, he thinks. Better to leave those unsaid until he figures them out for himself.
Hyunjin meanwhile clicks his tongue in disapproval, displeased to hear that Jae’s up to his usual bullshit. “What’s wrong with that dude? He and his prick friends need to get a job or something and leave everyone else alone.”
“Well if at this point he still doesn’t get the hint, he’s an even bigger dumbass than I already think he is,” Chan says and Hyunjin laughs, agreeing with the sentiment instantly. Chan feels his phone vibrate against his leg as Hyunjin shifts his attention back to his show, and is surprised to see its response from you this close to midnight.
Don’t say that, I might rely on you for a long time then!
11:47pm ✓
i said i don’t mind
i’m here for you okay?
11:48pm ✓
The two of you continue to text, and unbeknownst to himself, Chan has a small smile on his face again, that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin. However, rather than tease his older brother again, he decides to let it be. As fun as it is to poke some fun, he did genuinely like seeing Chan smile. It felt so rare these days to see happiness on his face, and he was grateful to see it now, even if it was only by a small margin.
Chan glances up from his phone to see if Hyunjin is still peeking at him, and is relieved to find that he isn’t. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to be seen texting you, but.. Before he dropped out, he had a reputation in high school for being a bad guy, with all kinds of rumors being spread about him during his freshman year.
And while a lot of them weren’t true, he didn’t mind leaning into them and letting people believe whatever they wanted to if it meant he was left alone. He had no interest in the things his classmates were interested in; grades, exams, college applications, after school clubs… None of those things mattered.
He was forced to grow up quickly after his parents passed away, and it left him jaded to the worries someone his age would typically have had. And while he encouraged his friends-turned-brothers to do well and go after anything they wanted to, he couldn’t find it within himself to care about such fleeting things after all he’d been through.
At the time, all he wanted was to coast until graduation, and then start working full time to support himself and help his found family reach their goals. As long as the people he cared about had a chance to lead a better life than him, that was enough.
Chan figured then, and especially when he dropped out and started working full time, that he wouldn’t have time for new friendships until much later in life, and he made his peace with that a long time ago. However, he couldn’t deny the possibility that perhaps he pushed down the idea that he did want someone to spend time with that wasn’t from his own bubble.
Someone he could talk to about mundane things, who lived a normal life with normal hardships, someone who knew nothing about the shady shit he had to do to survive, and who could distract him from the weight of his responsibilities. And maybe it was okay to let you be that friend for him.
He was sure the others would tease him and say he has a crush, but honestly, his intentions are nothing like that. Despite what rumors would lead you to believe, he’s always been the kind of person to lift up those who needed help, and give them a place next to him. Anyone who had been dealt bad cards in life, he would help if he had the means to, because he knew how awful it felt to be alone with no one to turn to.
Regardless of gender, you both needed someone. And if you could be that someone for Chan, he would be that someone for you, because that’s just the kind of guy he is. As long as you needed him, he’d be there for you, he’d protect you, he’d be your friend. And he hoped you’d be his friend too, and that you’d never stop needing him.
Hiraeth; a deep sense of longing, a deep-rooted desire to return to home that no longer exists, or never existed to begin with. A homesickness tinged with grief and sorrow over what is lost and cannot be regained. A word that encompasses Chan in his entirety, though he’d be loath to admit it to any who asked, emotionally solitary as he is.
When others feel nostalgia, there is an associated happiness– that even though they miss or long for that period of time in their life, they accept that they cannot return to it. They look back on it fondly, happy to have those memories and able to appreciate what they had.
They miss the joy they felt in those simpler times, the days where they were taken care of and pampered by their parents, where every meal was provided for them and they spent all of their free time worry free, watching their favorite cartoons on tv or playing video games for hours on end.
But what do you do when your only memories of childhood are encompassed by an overarching sadness? When what should be happy memories are tainted by the knowledge that you lost your joy too young, that fate held no mercy, not even for a child so young- what do you do?
Chan wished he knew, because the reality is that even nearly 15 years since the day he lost his parents he still doesn’t know how to cope with his grief. And those are the thoughts that kept him up at night, his insomnia complexly woven with heartache and melancholy, unable to be separated no matter how hard he tried.
He doesn’t dare check the clock, knowing that whatever number he sees reflecting back at him will just add to the misery he feels. He shifts onto his back with a sigh, eyes now pointed directly to the bare ceiling.
How different would his life be now if his mom and dad were still here? It was no use thinking about it, it didn’t accomplish anything other than making the ache in his chest grow tighter, but he couldn’t prevent it from happening anymore than he could turn back time and change it. There was no way to make the impossible possible, and there was equally no way to prevent his brain from fixating on the what if's and should be's of his life.
There was a part of him that felt selfish for not being happier– like he was asking for too much, expecting some sort of retribution for all the suffering he’d endured, though such a thing would assuredly never come. It wasn’t like he was always miserable, either– he had so many people in his life he cared about and made him feel sane when life was running him to the ground, he had enough money to afford the things he needed and keep everyone afloat, he was strong and (mostly) healthy.
He should be grateful for all those things, and he certainly is, but just.. It’s hard. You never stop missing the people you lose, he supposes. Even when you’re grateful, even when you’re happy and smiling, even when everything is seemingly perfect, the pain is still there.
Lingering in every interaction, present in every moment, sometimes ignorable but never forgotten, always reminding him that the hole in his heart exists, and will only ever grow larger, impossible to fill. That’s what Chan feels.
Fuck it.
He reaches for his phone on the coffee table, bright light immediately straining his eyes as he unlocks the device. 2:14 a.m– not the worst it could be, thankfully; it means he’s only been stuck in his head for a little over an hour. Should he text you and see if you’ve fallen asleep yet, he wonders?
No– better not to disturb you, and risk himself saying too much about what he feels due to lapse in judgment. The thought of telling anyone about how sad and lonely he is inside makes him physically ill– he dreads the feeling of vulnerability, hates the way his emotions catch in his throat and eyes fill with tears whenever he tries.
He’s always regretted sharing in the past, not because of the fault of anyone he told, but purely due to his own inability to not feel shame and embarrassment when he lets someone in. His friends, brothers, found family, whatever you wanted to call them– very few of them saw Chan at his worst, but in an ideal world, none of them would’ve seen it.
He can still remember the look on Minho’s face the first time he broke down in front of him, and it plagues him. He couldn’t control it– the tears just wouldn’t stop coming no matter how hard he tried to keep them in, choked, broken sobs leaving him uncontrollably as his body shook and trembled.
Minho comforted him, of course– he wasn’t going to leave Chan to suffer alone after seeing him in such a state. But when the moment passed, there was no comfort or consolation within him to be felt– just the shame and embarrassment that twisted itself into a gnawing self-consciousness.
And the thought of being in that state of self-doubt and hatred in front of you was even worse, because you were the absolute last person he wanted to see him that way. Maybe one day, but not now– not when your friendship was still relatively fresh and being built upon.
But.. even if he’s not ready to share his deepest thoughts and feelings, he still wants to talk to you now. He wants to see you smile at him, he wants to listen to you talk about what your plans are for when the winter semester is over and the weather starts to become warm again.
He wants to see the twinkle in your eye when you talk about what your newest favorite song is, wants to your your thoughts on whatever new meal you tried out for dinner. Because as silly as it is, in the few months it’s been since he first became your friend, those are the things he’s come to enjoy most and look forward to.
Are you still awake now? Are you staring up at his ceiling the way he is now in the living room? Is his bed comfortable enough for you? Did he leave you with enough blankets?
He could text you so easily to find out, but for some reason the thought of it makes him extremely nervous. You’ve been to the house plenty of times now since becoming friends with not only him, but Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin, but this is the first time you’re staying overnight.
You initially came at the request to help Changbin, who is currently taking a class you took last semester but is struggling with the material, and needed assistance to understand the concepts he was being introduced to. You brought your laptop with you, using it to show Changbin the detailed notes you took and offering him copies of the study guides you made, and it truly made Chan happy to see you helping his brother out so diligently.
After a couple hours, Changbin let you off the hook, citing that his brain was tired from the overload of information and he’d be hitting the gym to let off some steam. “Oh my god, it’s this late already? I still have to work on my discussion post for this week,” you groaned, evidently dreading the work you’d have to put into making it decent enough for your professor’s obnoxiously high standards.
“I can help you,” Chan offered without even thinking, and God, why did even do that? Because how was he, a high school dropout with no GED, realistically going to help someone as smart as you?
He wasn’t dumb by any means, but what kind of input could he even offer that would benefit you? But despite the way his brain made fun of him for his lapse in judgment, and convinced him that you’d absolutely refuse his help, you smiled at him.
“Yeah, okay! We should get some food too, I haven’t had dinner yet and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” you spoke cheerfully, opening up a new tab on your laptop to check over the delivery options in the area. He was stunned for a moment, feeling like his entire nervous system was zapped the moment you accepted his offer.
There was no hesitation, no doubt in your mind that he could help despite what you know of his education history– why did that make him feel so warm inside?
The corners of his mouth tugged in a smile as he helped you pick out a restaurant to order from, the two of you munching on burgers and fries as he listened to your thoughts on what your discussion post should be about. You bounced your ideas off him, and while he wasn’t knowledgeable on the subject you needed to write about, discussing it with him still seemed to help you.
It was kind of like thinking aloud; like voicing what you thought worked and what didn’t, what you thought your professor would like to see and what he wouldn’t helped you to formulate a more cohesive outline in your mind. Chan watched as you typed furiously, tongue slightly poked out and brows furrowed as you concentrated on the screen in front of you.
You’d occasionally seek his input, asking things like “does this make sense?” or “do you think this is too much or not enough?” He was entirely out of his depth if he was being honest, but he was happy you wanted his input regardless, and enjoyed seeing a side of you he didn’t typically see.
With Chan’s (albeit limited) help, you managed to finish before the midnight deadline, hitting submit on your post with just a few minutes to spare. You stood up and stretched your arms and legs, feeling stiff from all your time spent hunched at the same spot, a sigh of relief leaving you shortly after.
But then there came the next dilemma– getting home this late into the night. Chan didn’t live far from campus, and thus was near the dorms as well, but the thought of you walking home in relative darkness by yourself didn’t sit well with him.
“You can stay here if you want. You can take my bed, I’ll stay here,” he suggested. You blinked, staying silent as you processed the offer. Chan, who took the quiet as discomfort, was quick to speak up again and try to remedy it, “Or uh, I could walk you back if you’d prefer that–”
“N-No!” you quickly blurted out, face reddening slightly as you cleared your throat to speak more calmly, “I mean– I’ll stay.” Chan nodded, standing up to go up to his room with you; you didn’t need to be led there of course, you already knew where it is, but Chan needed to at least grab a few things for himself before leaving it to you for the rest of the night.
A pair of clothes to sleep in, a blanket, a pillow, his phone charger, and he’s all set. You watched him move about the room while sitting on his bed, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you did. “I’ll see you in the morning, uhm– let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’ll be on the couch, so.. Yeah, good night,” he said with a slight smile before he departed, doing his best to close the door behind himself despite how full his hands were.
Another sigh leaves his lips now, followed by another check of the time; it’s already 2:30 a.m. He doubts you're still awake, and even if you are, he's decided he won't bother you. But if he’s going to lose sleep no matter what, he hopes it's from thinking about you comfortably wrapped in his blankets upstairs, instead of any of the other things that attempt to gnaw at him.
How on earth were you supposed to sleep?
You were in Chan’s bed, surrounded by the smell of his cologne, his stuffed toy wolf clutched closely to your chest because you always held something to fall asleep, but obviously didn’t have any of your own plushies here to do so. And God, your heart absolutely refuses to be still no matter how mundane of a situation you’re in.
Who cares if you’re spending the night in the bed of the guy best friend that you’ve started to develop a crush on? It doesn’t matter! You’re going insane, you think– you can’t take it.
You’re stupid, delusional, thinking about how it'd be if he was still here with you, what it’d be like if he were laying down next to you. Wrapping his arm around you, pulling you against his chest, speaking to you in a gravelly, tired voice and– please brain stop!!
You pour all your mental effort into stopping yourself from thinking about it any further as embarrassment flushes over you. Isn’t this kind of cringey..? Getting a crush on the first guy to ever be nice to you seems so.. Cliche? Pathetic? What is even wrong with you? But when you look at him, you can’t help it.
He may look intimidating to others, but you’ve seen the truth of him since becoming his friend. Maybe it’s just puppy love that will fade with time, but you can’t help but admire him. And maybe that admiration is being fueled by the fact that he’s also incredibly handsome, but that’s besides the point. Underneath the aloof exterior, he’s sweet, caring, humble, generous.. How could you not like him?
And you think about the first time you saw him smile– really smile, full and bright, teeth showing and eyes crinkled as a laugh escaped him. It was so beautiful, you felt like time slowed down around you.
You learned that he had dimples that day; cute ones that made his smile endearing beyond explanation, and that you hoped you’d see again and again and again from that day forward. You loved the way he looked when he was happy, when his hard exterior melted away to reveal the soft features he hid underneath.
Every day spent with Chan was full of a joy you thought you’d lost the capability to feel. You found yourself endlessly enamored by him, by every thing you learned about him; every interaction you had with him, intensified the feeling that welled in your chest.
He was so considerate of you, always watching out for you and making sure you were okay when you were out together. Like the time a few weeks ago when all of you were out together, celebrating Felix’s birthday.
You also met the other guys Chan considered his brothers that day; Jisung and Seungmin, who also had birthdays very close to Felix’s, Minho, who was close in age to Chan and equally as aloof in appearance, and Jeongin, the youngest of them all, though only by a small margin. It was fun to watch them all interact together over dinner, their dynamics quickly becoming apparent.
Changbin, who was typically loud to begin with, became even more so in the presence of Jisung, the pair becoming so explosively loud and chaotic that even the quieter ones like Chan and Minho would end up roped into whatever shouting was currently taking place. You’d laugh as you observed the chaos, and you enjoyed seeing a new side of Chan– one who let loose and had fun, who smiled freely and laughed just as much, who was beautiful beyond words.
You learned a lot about them that day too– about how Minho moved to the opposite end of the city to go to vet school and how Jisung moved into a small apartment with him to make sure he was taking care of himself (and to help care for the cats the older had adopted shortly after.)
Hyunjin, who you already knew was an avid painter, expressed his desire to own a studio some day, and Felix, your favorite barista and baker, talked about all the times he failed at a dessert and forced the others to eat them anyway so they wouldn’t go to waste.
Seungmin was scouted to play baseball, and so moved pretty far away from the others now, but still loved to come back to the city and visit when he could, often with a camera in hand to capture moments he found beautiful. Jeongin was taking a gap year before going to school again, trying to make sure that he was sure about what he wanted to do with his life before committing himself to the hours of work and money spent.
You were in awe of them, truly; they were all so different, yet came together and loved one another so genuinely, as real brothers would. And they all unanimously agreed that Chan was the one who held them together, the one who supported them through everything and helped them during the hardest times in their life.
You loved how anytime someone praised him, or had anything even remotely positive to say about him, his ears would light up red with embarrassment as he turned his gaze away from them. You knew Chan was softie underneath, that was obvious to you from the day you met him, but it was still nice to have your opinion of him affirmed by others, to know that was the kind of person he always was.
And he expressed that he didn’t see his actions as praiseworthy, always feeling awkward when it was brought up. To Chan, it was just human decency to help someone if he had the means to– a feeling that stemmed from the time he spent alone and in need of help when he was a child.
He was well acquainted with that pain, knew how miserable it was, and he didn’t want anyone else to experience it. He couldn’t ignore someone who was clearly in need, so he always helped; even if he wasn’t in the best of circumstances himself, he would do whatever he could for them, no questions asked. And he never asked for anything in return, because to him, seeing the person back on track and happy again was reward enough.
You knew every kind thing they said about Chan was no exaggeration, knew first hand that he truly was the kindest person you’d ever met. He put on a mask of toughness, sure, but there was no one in the world who was as generous and caring as him. You looked at him with pure adoration, which certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin, who smiled to himself whenever he saw the way you’d blush or smile whenever Chan looked back your way.
And when you were leaving the restaurant together, each saying your goodbyes as you readied yourselves to head in your separate directions, you saw him. It was pure coincidence– Jae was across the street, talking with some friends as he stood outside the bar smoking, completely unaware of the fact that you were even in the area.
Chan looked at you, noticed the way you suddenly stopped in place and just stared across the street, and he followed your gaze to the culprit. He stepped close to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his body.
“It’s okay, he didn’t see you,” Chan comforted you, bringing his other hand to your face, directing you to look away from Jae and at him instead, “and even if he did, I’m right here. Just stick close to me, okay?” You nodded slowly, wondering if the thumb that rested on your cheek could feel the way heat rose to it.
The others who were there, a group consisting of just the 3 who lived with Chan, just observed, not daring to step in until the moment was over. They all knew Jae well, and were also well aware of the things he’d done to you, at least on the surface level, and they promised that they’d look out for you too.
You thanked them earnestly at the time, honestly unable to think of a single time you’d ever felt such solidarity, deeply appreciative of them, and of Chan, who brought you all together. But now, as they all stood there watching, they felt it’d be best to leave it to Chan, who you quite obviously had feelings for. Hyunjin and Felix shared a knowing look, deciding to drag Changbin down the street with them before he’d have the opportunity to accidentally interrupt your moment.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he squeezed your shoulder, leading you to walk away from the area with him. There was no romantic intent, you knew that– he was keeping you close to make sure you were okay, to ensure that you were within his reach should anything happen. Chan was a kind hearted person who did anything needed to protect others and there was nothing special about this interaction, you knew that.
But regardless of all those rational thoughts you were repeating to yourself, you couldn’t stop the way it made your heart skip a beat, couldn’t help the way his care for you made your knees weak and face hot. Because even if he never liked you the way you liked him, he still cared about you, and that was enough fuel for your growing crush on him, enough to make your heart beat out of control.
Was he still awake? Chan told you before that he was an insomniac, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he was just as wide awake as you are. Should you go check?
There was certainly no harm in it– if he did happen to be asleep, you’d just quietly slip back to his room and let him get some much needed rest, while you'd try again to get some sleep. There was really no reason not to go.
Carefully, you rise from the bed, wolf plush tucked safely in your arms and blanket wrapped around you, quietly opening the door and exiting out into the hallway. You’re careful not to make the stairs creak as you make your way down to the living room where Chan is supposed to be, and he immediately comes into view once you’re at the bottom.
It’s obvious he’s awake, phone screen brightly illuminating the otherwise pitch black space. He hears your footsteps as you step closer, lifting his head just enough to see who is approaching him this late at night.
He looks surprised to see you for a moment, an emotion you can’t read in the relative darkness on his face for just a second before he’s sitting up and scooting to the side to make room for you on the couch next to him. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” he asks as you plop down in the spot he’s provided for you next to him, “Is my bed uncomfortable?”
“Oh, no! Your bed was fine, it’s just..” I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it was driving me crazy, you think, but don't admit, “.. a lot on my mind, I guess.” He hums in acknowledgment, definitely feeling the same way; but he didn’t need to drag you down with all that.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers, but you quickly shake your head, mortified at the thought of revealing your crush on him. That’s the last thing you should do. “Thanks, but no, I just want to take my mind off it.”
He chuckles a little at your response, opting instead to change the subject, “I see you have Wolf Chan with you.” Wolf Chan? You look down at your arms, the cute wolf toy’s head peeking out from between your arms.
“Oh, he has a name?” you ask and he nods, smiling ever so slightly as he speaks. “Yeah, kinda embarrassing but I had a huge wolf phase as a kid, so my mom and dad got me him for my birthday. Named him after myself cause, you know, kid brain thought it was cool.”
“That’s cute! When is your birthday?” you ask, hoping that you’d have the chance to plan something nice for him as thanks for all he’s done for you in the time you’ve known him. “October 3rd,” he answers swiftly, and you frown.
“..What? It already passed then? Why didn’t you tell me?” your frown transitions into a pout, sad at the realization that you all celebrated his brother's birthdays but not his.
“I.. don’t really celebrate it. Wolf Chan– he was the last gift I got from my parents, the last birthday I had with them before.. Yeah. So I just.. Don’t acknowledge my birthday anymore, I guess?” Your heart sinks, not only because of how sad that is, but because you’re holding something clearly so important and personal to him without even having known it. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know– should I go put him back?”
“Nah, don’t worry. I like it actually,” he smiles softly, sincerely, “I haven’t touched him in a long time myself, so.. He needs the attention. I’m sure he was feeling neglected.” You smile back, relief washing over you instantly, thankful that you didn’t unintentionally make a drastic error. “Well I hope you know, I can’t let your birthday go ignored now that I know it.”
“I expected that,” he replies, knowing full well you’d share that sentiment with his brothers. They still always wish him a happy birthday and get him a gift despite how often he expresses that they shouldn’t.
“Can I ask you something? It’s okay if you don’t want to answer,” you ask carefully, voice quiet and unsure, an underlying worry carried in your tone. Chan swallows, already anticipating what the question will be, the same questions he’s answered countless times, but never gets any easier to talk about.
“What they were like? You must still think about them a lot.” Oh. That wasn’t the question he was expecting. He’s used to being asked what happened, how he's coping, if there’s anything he needs– no one has ever asked about what they were like when they were still here.
He anticipates pity, or a sympathy that while mostly appreciated, makes him feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. Even with practice, there’s still times where he doesn’t know how to react, a terse, “I’m fine, thanks,” leaving him as he plots the quickest way out of the conversation.
Safe to say, Chan isn’t good about talking about his feelings, or even feeling them to begin with for that matter. Apart from moments of weakness, when his facade cracks due to the mounting pressure and overload of emotions, he shares only what he deems necessary, never offering more than the minimum of what is needed.
Even when it came to his brothers, who he trusts more than anyone else, it was hard for him to go beyond his practiced response, taking him a great amount of emotional effort to do so. And he's not confident he can talk with you about how good they were without breaking down, but he can still share a little of how he feels, can't he?
“I do,” he answers after a moment, voice ever so slightly wavering. It's a simple response, sure, but not for Chan– nothing related to this topic is ever simple or easy for him. But somehow he feels comfortable enough to try.
And maybe that’s because it’s encroaching 3am and lack of sleep really takes a toll on one’s mental defenses, but he doesn’t think that’s all there is to it. He trusts you, as he does anyone he’s grown close to, but it takes more than trust alone to be able to open up.
You could trust someone with your life and still struggle to express an emotion, still have the words you want to say die in your throat. Maybe it’s because of what else he feels when he’s around you– an unfamiliar emotion that encroaches on his chest whenever you’re in the room with him.
The one that intensifies his desire to protect you from people like Jae, the one that leads to him wanting to talk to you at all hours about any and every thing that comes to your mind, the one that makes his heart pick up when you smile at him and always makes him return the smile despite himself.
He wants to share with you, he realizes; share everything he can, from his happy moments to his sad ones, his thoughts, his feelings, his entire life even. He wants nothing to be off limits, to be his authentic self before you, even if who he is deep down is ugly and scarred.
“Even just before you came downstairs, I was thinking of them,” he continues, his honesty unfamiliar to himself but not unwelcome; it’s not that he’d lie about anything he felt, but he was just.. Avoidant. He didn’t want to talk about it, refused to even, most times.
But you– you make him want to be honest, not just with you, but with himself. Maybe it’s because of the feelings for you that have begun to accumulate in his heart, or maybe because he knows how similar you are. The circumstances were different, but the feelings were the same; isolation, sadness, hopelessness.
No one to turn to, no one to rely on, fighting all by yourself, with only your own ability to pick yourself back up to carry you forward. Chan knew first hand how painful that existence is, how much it hurts to have nothing, no one. He’s also come to learn, time and time again, that even when you’ve found your place in the world, the void lingers.
The hole in his chest never closes– even if he can stop it’s growth, it never shrinks, never collapses or recedes. There’s reasons for that, he knows; it’s his own fault for not allowing himself to feel, to share, his hesitancy to allow anyone past arm’s length or to chip at his walls.
He doesn’t want that with you– if he wants something with you beyond this, beyond the boundaries of simple friendship, he needs to do more, feel more, share more. It was something he thought he would be terrified to do, an irrational fear that your opinion of him would change if he wasn't as strong as he appeared to be; but now that he's met with the opportunity, instead of fear, he feels.. safe?
“I lost them really young, you know; I was just a kid with a lot of grief he didn’t know how to handle, and the people who took me in didn’t care. ‘Suck it up,’ ‘get over it,’ ‘stop being a baby and grow up,’ shit like that. Didn’t matter that I was only 7 and lost everything, I should just be grateful they gave me a place to sleep and eat."
"Got emancipated at 16 to get away from them, dropped out of school cause I couldn’t balance it with how much I had to work, and I wasn’t gonna miss it anyways. And here I am now,” Chan is hesitant to meet your gaze when he finishes talking, worried about what feeling it might conjure in him when he sees your eyes laden with sympathy.
Normally, the sympathy of others make him feel sick. He hates the pity, hates the attention that comes with having his vulnerabilities on display, hates the words they offer as consolation. But he doesn't hate it for you– the only thing you ever make him feel is warm. So, so warm after a lifetime of cold.
You move across the couch and wrap your arms around him in a hug, an action he didn’t expect– it's the first time you're hugging him. “That must’ve been so hard..” you say softly, care and concern for him evident in the way you speak to him.
He blinks, a lump forming in his throat that normally he’d try to ignore, to push away and act as if he’s fine, but this time he doesn’t. He’s choked up, he’s emotional, and for once, that’s okay.
Carefully, he wraps his arms around you as well, his head resting atop yours as he lets out a shaky exhale. “Can we stay like this for a while?” he asks quietly, his fingers clutching at your shirt, as if afraid you’ll leave him the moment he lets go.
“Of course,” you assure him, moving just enough to make yourself more comfortable and settle in against him, “as long as you need.” He mumbles a ‘thank you’, to which you hum in response, following his lead as he lays back and settles with you in his arms.
You stay like that for a long time– long enough for your breathing to slow, eyes closed and arms beginning to fall from the hug as you drift off. Your head has sank to his chest, his heartbeat, that started fast and erratic, has slowed to a comforting, steady rhythm that lulled you to sleep.
Chan is careful to pull the blanket up to your shoulders, ensuring that you at least are covered and will stay plenty warm until you wake up. He closes his eyes, keeping his arms wrapped around you under the blanket, wanting to keep you close and not let go.
He doesn’t know if he’ll always have this with you; this close comfort, this feeling of peace and calm, of having you in his arms and being able to be held by you, while holding you in return. He likes it, wants it engraved in his memory in case it never happens again, to always remember the way you felt, the way you cared, the safety he felt with you. A small, but cherished moment, special and important to him beyond words.
Was it okay to be this happy? It’s something Chan thought about lately, whenever he had finished spending a day with you, laying in his bed and playing them over in his mind, making sure every little detail was memorized.
The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the feel of your soft skin when he touched your hand or you hugged him tight, the way your perfume lingered in the room long after you’d left it. Did he deserve to be happy?
He certainly didn’t feel like he did, but he welcomed it all the same, too selfish to let go of the small piece of joy he’d obtained. His feelings for you had grown considerably, and he was sure it was obvious to his brothers, who never failed to notice the way he'd change when he was around you; they just knew him too well and were around him too much to not notice something different about his behavior.
He liked you a lot, and there was certainly no way he’d be able to deny it if they asked about it. They didn’t overtly ask about it though of course, more often opting to make subtle nods to their knowledge of it or make suggestions like ‘wouldn’t it be fun if Y/N came too? You should invite her!’ when they had plans together.
Sometimes they even lightly poked some fun, one instance that sticks in Chan's mind being when Hyunjin wanted to show him what he called an “adorable picture.” It was of you and Chan, asleep on the couch together that first time you stayed the night.
Your head on his chest, his arm loosely wrapped around you, blanket having fallen from your shoulders just enough to make Chan’s hand on your back come into view. His face flushed when he saw it, ears burning as they turned red. Hyunjin was right, it was an adorable picture, and Chan was embarrassed beyond belief to see the moment captured.
Hyunjin giggled in a mischievous sort of delight upon seeing the older’s reaction, evidently very pleased with the result he obtained. Chan's typical response in a situation where his feelings are exposed like this would be to play it cool and act like it’s not a big deal, which truthfully, he didn’t want to do.
Why should he pretend he doesn’t like you as much as he does? Especially after he’s decided he’ll do his best to be honest with himself, and by extension, the others in his life (you especially.) Even if it’s embarrassing, or uncomfortable because he’s not used to his emotions being obvious and out on display, it’s what he wants, needs even.
He needs to let them out if he’s going to be a better man than he was the day before, to be deserving of you when the time is right. So instead, he does what would normally be the unthinkable– he owns it. No denial, no avoidance, no playing it off as less severe or important than it really is to him.
“Can you.. send it to me? I– I want to keep it,” Chan asked, easily the most shy and embarrassed to ask a question he had ever been in his entire life. Hyunjin blinked, initially surprised, but then immediately smiled. “Of course Channie-hyung! You should send it to Y/N too, I’m sure she’d like it,” he said as he eagerly opened his message tab, clicking Chan’s name to send the photo he took.
“You could send it to her,” Chan responded before the words following fully sank in. Would you? “You think she’d want it too?” he asked, wondering if Hyunjin could tell how much hope lied in his question.
“Why wouldn’t she? You’re friends, aren’t you? And it’s a cute memory,” Hyunjin said, doing his best to convey why he thinks you’d want it without revealing that you absolutely have as bad of a crush on Chan as he does on you. (And it’s not like you explicitly told him either; it’s just that you’re as obvious about it and easy to read as Chan is.)
“Right, yeah, of course.” Was it silly to hope that Hyunjin would say something like ‘obviously because she likes you!’ …Yeah. Definitely. But when he looked at the picture, it gave him hope that maybe you felt the same way; and if you didn’t, that maybe you would in the future, after he gave his earnest effort to be someone good.
His next bit of hope came during a get together for Hyunjin’s birthday. The weather had just begun to turn warm, the days slowly getting longer and longer, allowing for more frequent outings. Thus, by Hyunjin’s own request, you went to have some fun downtown, hitting up local art scenes and scouting out opportunities for the birthday boy to get some fresh, new supplies.
It turned out to be a long day, with Hyunjin’s interest piqued towards various different places and sights, and as night rolled in most of the group had empty stomachs and aching legs. You all settled for having dinner at the house, picking up takeout and a birthday cake on the way back.
You seemed different after eating dinner, Chan noticed. You were sitting alone on the couch away from the group in the kitchen, who were crowding around the birthday cake waiting for a slice. You were watching them with an almost somber expression, and Chan could’ve sworn your eyes were fixated on him in particular.
Had he done something to upset you? There was nothing he could recall, but he wasn’t exactly well versed or experienced with understanding or handling the complexities of feelings. He could easily imagine a world in which he unintentionally said or did something wrong, but he hoped that maybe you were just tired, and Chan only thought you were looking at him in sadly, when in reality, exhaustion was just catching up to you.
And really, you were staring at Chan, but not for the reason he feared; he hadn’t done a single thing to upset you– quite the contrary, actually. He was good– not just to you, but to everyone. You watched the way he’d shoulder everything, how he’d support endlessly and rarely accept anything back, always so selfless and caring, withstanding anything thrown his way with generous consideration.
You learned a lot about Chan in your time with him; about his youth, what his family dynamic used to be like, how even before he dropped out he had a bad reputation at his school for appearing stand-offish and cold. That reputation followed him for a majority of his life after leaving as well, with most people who knew him having a great dislike for him due to their perceived vision of him and the half-truths (or outright lies) they believed in.
It was only people like you and his brothers, who took the time to know him beyond the superficial front, that knew what a great person he truly was. And truthfully, it angered you; why were people so quick to judge someone they didn’t know?
Chan was the exact opposite of what people made him out to be. He wasn’t violent or cruel, nor was he scary or someone to be avoided at all costs. He was just a boy, now a man, who had suffered far too much pain and cruelty for someone his age, who was just doing his best to navigate the world with the limited resources he had. What was so wrong with that?
But despite all the misconceptions of others, the burdens he carried, or the responsibilities he had, you never once heard him complain about any of it, or show any sign of annoyance. Because despite what people might think about him, the people close to him knew who he truly was– someone who lived his life with compassion and kindness, who was misunderstood but not ill-intentioned, always trying his best despite the difficulties that came his way.
Sometimes you would wonder, though– is he really okay? Chan had dealt with so much, enough to easily break down even the most resolute of people. And as much as he shared, there was equally as much that you didn’t know; about what he felt, if he ever received as much as he gave, if he was truly happy.
You did your best to ensure he was. You always returned whatever favor he gave you, strived to be a reassuring presence for him as much as he was for you, but it was hard to know if that was enough. You wanted to ask, but you didn’t know how best to broach the subject, or if he’d even be willing to talk about it if you did.
He had opened up to you before, during late night chats or if something he saw reminded him of a memory he held, but the moments themselves were quite fleeting, and you worried about him. You always worried about him, no matter where you were or what you were doing, because simply put, you loved him.
You weren’t in love with him (you definitely were), but he was an undeniably important person in your life, who you had a lot of love and care for. He was your friend, and you wanted the best for him.
You’d never force him to share with you or tell you anything he didn’t want to of course, but you hoped he knew that he could if he wanted to. You hoped he knew that he never had to be scared or uncertain when it came to opening up to you, you hoped he knew that you would always listen to him and be there for him.
Chan approached you carefully, working up his courage to talk to you and see if you were okay, and to know if there was an apology he owed you for some unknown grievance. “Are you okay? What’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” he’d asked, trying his best to not show how nervous he felt; you’d stopped looking at him, but he could tell even from afar that you were focused on something.
“Oh, I..” You hesitated a moment, wondering how you should best phrase what your honest thoughts were. You took a quick glance towards the kitchen where everyone else was, noting that everyone still seemed to be involved in their own conversations and antics, not paying any mind to the two of you. That made it a little easier; you think you’d die of embarrassment if they heard what you planned to say next.
“I was thinking about you actually,” you said quietly after turning your gaze back to Chan. What surprised him wasn’t just how openly you admitted it, but how you didn’t seem the least bit angry or upset with him like he was worried you were.
So.. what about him had you so deep in thought, then? “What about me..?” he asked hesitantly, hoping for the best but still slightly scared he was reading you completely wrong.
You swallowed before continuing, worried that you were somehow going to offend him by bringing up what you were thinking. While you felt like you knew Chan fairly well at this point, people can still become defensive or agitated when asked about something personal, and that’s the last thing you wanted him to feel.
But he’s looking at you expectantly, eyes fixed solely on you as he waited to hear what you had to say, so there was no getting out of it now. “I was wondering if you are okay lately. Like.. really okay, and not just saying you are so we don’t worry about you.”
Oh. He was completely stunned by your words, unexpectedly taken aback. No one had ever said that to him before, and he didn’t know how to respond to such earnest concern for him. Obviously, he had been asked if he was okay plenty of times in his life, but never in a way such as this, that insinuated there was a lot more hiding below the surface.
And there was. Deep buried feelings gnawed at him, begging to be acknowledged, but he always pushed them down further, reasoning that now wasn’t the time and he’d confront them later, when the time was right.
But when was the right time? It never came, no time ever feeling like the right one. Or maybe Chan just spent so much time avoiding his feelings that now he didn’t know how to confront them anymore. He was so used to sharing so little, that even his earnest efforts were still small in comparison to what most others were able to do.
But how did you realize that about him? Was it just coincidence, or were you already so acclimated to him that you could recognize the way his brain worked? “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you said after his prolonged pause, worried that you did in fact make him uncomfortable as you feared.
“I– No, I was just surprised,” he finally responded, turning to look in the direction of his friends just as you had done a moment prior. They were all joking around, laughing loudly as they made the birthday boy wear a stupid party hat they picked up and putting frosting on his face, leaving Chan in his own little bubble with you.
He turned his gaze back to you, wanting to say something, anything, but finding it difficult to speak, as usual. His words were trapped in his throat, refusing to come to the surface no matter how much effort he poured into trying. You took notice of his hesitancy, and decided to speak again in the hopes of giving him some comfort.
“I just– you’ve done a lot for me since I met you, more than anyone ever has, so… I want to be there for you too. If you need it, I mean, because I really, really care about you..” Your face heats up a bit when you’re finished speaking, feeling nervous from the admission.
This must feel so out of the blue from Chan’s perspective, and that thought made you feel silly for bringing it up in the middle of a birthday party in the first place. And on top of that, you’d openly said how much you care about him, which is embarrassing all on its own. Even if it’s not a love confession by any means, it feels similar enough that it makes your heart pound like crazy.
Chan’s face grew hot, positively burning, heart rate picking up drastically. He hopes you don’t notice the obvious red creeping on his features, or hear how fast his heart is beating against his chest. It wasn’t just the fact that he hadn’t expected this moment to happen that made him react this way, but the way you expressed your concern for him.
You wanted to support him, you wanted to make sure he was okay, you were thinking about him. Normal things, sure, but when coming from someone you have undeniable feelings for, it’s enough to make your blood pressure skyrocket.
He swallowed, preparing himself to make another attempt at speaking. “Thank you, I really appreciate that,” he said, offering a timid smile your way to ease your growing anxiety as he continued, “It might be hard for me, but– but I’ll try, at the very least.. To tell you if I’m not okay, I mean.”
You returned his smile earnestly, evidently pleased with his response. You couldn’t ask him to open up easily or suddenly share all his close-held concerns and deeply buried thoughts, but the fact that he’d try and was open to it was what’s important. If he could trust you the way you had grown to trust him, that’d be more than enough for you to be happy.
From a distance, Felix had taken notice of the way you and Chan hadn’t joined in on the chaos of chasing Hyunjin around the kitchen to cover him with icing, and paused to look in your direction. The others stopped too when they noticed his pause, following his gaze to be met with the same sight of Chan’s burning face and the beaming smile you held towards him. They had hope, as much as Chan did, that there would come a day where the two of you would become a couple.
Was it okay to be this happy? Was it okay for Chan to hope that you returned his feelings? Was it okay to plan his confession, to wonder how his life would look if you said yes, to picture himself kissing you and holding you close at all hours of the day?
There were still things he had to do first, things to get out of and people to get away from, but you were his driving force to do that. You were the motivation to turn his life into something better, the hope he needed to get through it all.
Even if he didn’t deserve it, you made it worth trying. His life, which was plagued with bad memories and remorse for actions taken, became brighter and more livable when you were there to share it with him. Maybe it was okay to have someone to lean on, someone to confide in and share his burden with, someone to ground him and remind him that happiness is possible for him, and that it doesn’t always have to be a fleeting hope or dream.
That’s what you were for him– hope in human form, a dream come true. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, beautiful and perfect in every way. And if you accepted his feelings, he’d never stop showing his appreciation to you, he’d shower you with all the love you could handle and then some, making sure you always knew just how much you meant to him.
There were many things in this life that left Park Jaehyung feeling resentful; the way adults expected absolute obedience from him, the way he was expected to be an exemplary student with no flaws, and the way society projected their version of ‘success’ onto him. He wanted to do what he wanted to do when he wanted to do it, with no one to tell him what is or isn’t proper.
All he wanted in life was to have fun and live by his own terms, consequences be damned. If he wanted to smoke, he’d do it. If he wanted to party, he’d do it. And if he wanted to get with a girl, even one who absolutely loathed his existence, he’d do it. So, what by far angered him more than anything else was the way Bang Chan had thrown himself into your life.
Jae would say that he knew Chan and his crew fairly well, often finding themselves within the same spaces. And from an outside perspective, comparisons definitely could be made between them; after all, how different from each other could some ex-school delinquents be from a shady drop out that no one gave a shit about, and his friends that followed him around like lost puppies?
They’d often find themselves rooted in the same places, attending the same parties, pissing off or scaring the same people; but that was the extent of any similarity between them. Contrary to what an outsider may believe, Jae absolutely hated Chan, and anyone who would look at them and come to the conclusion that they were friends were blatant fucking morons.
From Jae’s perspective, Chan was pretentious and irritating; he always had a holier than thou attitude, looking down on Jae and his friends as if he was any better. Who was Chan to preach about morals and principles? Who gives a fuck about any of that bullshit?
Jae certainly didn’t, and he was tired of being told he was ‘in the wrong.’ If Chan wanted to spend his whole life worrying about whether or not what he was doing was right or wrong, he could, but Jae wasn’t going to listen to it. Besides, it was pretty fucking ironic to get lectured by a “professional fixer" of all people. He really should drop the “I’m better than you” act.
But for the most part, Jae could live his everyday life without interacting with Chan, or seeing any of his loyal idiots. The occasional glare on the street or punch thrown at a party was the extent of their relationship, if you could even call it that. As long as both sides minded their own business, there wasn’t much conflict to be had.
Sure, Jaehyung would love to instigate a problem given how much he disliked them, but he wasn’t stupid enough to start a fight he wouldn’t assuredly win. Some might accuse him of cowardice, but he would argue that it was just being smart. There was nothing to be gained from a losing battle; it was better to bide his time, and wait for the right moment. And there was a critical piece missing in the “right moment” that he still needed; you.
For as long as he could remember, Jae found school pointless. It was repetitive, boring, and everyone around him was exceedingly fake. They all wore such obvious masks, trying (and failing, in Jae’s opinion) to appear without fault. No one was perfect and he found it pitiful to even try and pretend they were.
No matter who you are or what you do, something will be flawed. There will always be something wrong with you, always something there for someone to criticize. So what was the point of it all? By the time he entered high school he was used to this monotony and the ignorance of his peers.
And that’s when he saw you for the first time; shy, vulnerable, unmasked you. You weren’t trying to project anything to anyone that wasn’t authentically you, though at first he couldn’t tell if that was intentional or not. Maybe you simply had no reason to, or you were comfortable not to, or maybe didn’t even realize how different you were amongst the people he’d grown to hate.
Whatever the reason, he was intrigued by your ‘realness’ in a sea of two faced, judgemental people. You were smart but not boastful, kind but not pretentious, beautiful but seemingly modest; and he liked it.
At first, his fixation with you started with simple curiosity driven observation. You were always at the top of the class but never once looked down on anyone below you. And while he personally found studying incredibly tedious and pointless, he did oddly admire how much you devoted yourself to it.
You weren’t born smart, at least he assumed so from how often he witnessed you studying, rather you reached your heights through effort and determination. And instead of finding it a worthless effort like he would if it were someone else, he found himself meeting a strange feeling he couldn't name.
He wasn’t sure why, but watching you give your earnest effort to your studies didn’t piss him off like it did with everyone else. Normally he’d tell someone like you that they were wasting their time– studying was stupid, school was stupid, and anyone who cared about it was stupid as well. So why didn’t he have that same sentiment towards you? Why did he want to encourage you?
Why did he want to always look at you? What was it about you that infatuated him so much? He could have any girl he wanted, ones who lined up with his view of the world and he could woo as easily as he could tie his shoe, but instead he always found his gaze landing on you.
To like someone like you went against everything he ever told himself, but maybe that was okay. Maybe you could change his perspective, make him the kind of person that could care about the shit he's supposed to.
That’s why he approached you that day. He didn’t tell any of his friends what he was feeling or about his intentions to get to know you– it was something he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t want to look at you from afar anymore, he wanted to be next to you. He wanted to talk to you, get to know you, find out what makes you the person you are.
And then his friend fucking ruined it. Maybe it was Jae’s own fault for always putting himself in the leader position, for being the kind of person who can’t let someone else take charge, because that meant he had people waiting on him.
In hindsight, it was obvious someone would notice his absence from the group and come seek him out, but it still pissed him off. And what pissed him off even more were the words his friend spoke.
“I knew it! You do like her!”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now what was he supposed to do? His friend’s smug fucking grin was infuriating. Who was he to look at Jae like that? He couldn’t admit he genuinely liked you or say he wanted to get to know you, he had a reputation to maintain.
So, he did the opposite of what he truly wanted to do. He treated you the same way he treated the girls he had flings with, acting like you were some lovesick puppy who couldn’t handle that he didn’t like you the way you liked him.
You were going to hate him after that, he knew it; and maybe he was stupid for even thinking he could have genuine friendship with someone like you given the kind of guy he was. And why should he want that?
He doesn’t do shit like that, he never has, and the fact that you even managed to get into his head and make him doubt the way he’s lived so far pissed him off. You were just a girl, at the end of the day.
And so his complicated, unresolved feelings of frustration and hatred were endlessly unleashed upon you, the undeserving outlet for his confusion and stubborn desire to never change his ways for anyone. He’d live his life the way he wanted, regardless of what anyone had to say about it, and like-minded people could come along for the ride as long as they recognized him as the one on top of it all.
And you, the one he liked for a fleeting moment before it all came down on him; he wouldn’t let you go. Because whether you liked him or hated him, you wouldn’t be able to ignore him. As long as you felt something for him, even if that feeling was hate, fear, or dread, it was a feeling for him, and he’d take anything from you he could, because that was the best he was ever gonna get.
When he saw you at that party, it felt like fate. God didn’t do favors for men like him, but maybe he could start to believe in shit like that if he kept getting blessed like this. When graduation day came, he was sure he’d never see you again. You were moving to god-knows-where, while he’d stay stuck in this shitty city with his shitty friends, doing the same shit he always does.
Well, his time with you couldn’t last forever; this was the inevitable conclusion, after all. He’d just crash wherever he felt like it, work when he felt like it, and maybe get a girl on his arm to take your place when he felt like it. But then he saw you, at this random ass party he went to by chance, purely cause his friends were going and booze was promised.
You hadn’t moved all that far, it turned out. You were still within his reach, and he had you now. Oh, and the look you gave him when your eyes met; he knew he missed it but damn, did it light a fire in him. He had you again, he had you, and then Chan fucking ruined it, like he ruins everything he comes in contact with.
It was okay, he thought. There would be more chances, and Jae could be assured of the fact that no one fucking likes Chan, and you wouldn’t either. Now that he knew you weren’t all too far from where you grew up, he could find you again, and relive his glory days before they ever even faded. But every fucking time he saw you again, Chan was there, ruining it.
Fuck, it infuriated him. And the way you looked at him? What the fuck was that? The way you smiled at him made him absolutely sick; Jae never knew you could smile like that, and why would he? He never did anything to warrant something like that from you. But if he didn’t get to have it, then why did Chan? Chan didn’t deserve shit, and especially not you.
You smiled at him like he was the world, stared at him with twinkling eyes and a flushed face, let him wrap his arm around you and hold your hand with the most shy delight Jae had ever seen. And it all went to Chan? All your pretty looks and radiant smiles were for him? No, he couldn’t take that. If there was one thing Jae was going to do, it was going to be making sure he ruined it for Chan, the way that Chan ruined everything for him.
And finally, his patience was rewarded, because he sees you walking alone in a shopping plaza not all too far away from where you go to school. It’s a popular spot for the local college students, carrying everything they need to get through their daily lives, as well as a few luxuries.
It’s not all that busy at this time of day however; it’s still fairly early on a Friday evening, and if Jae had to guess, that’s precisely why you’re here now, instead of an hour or two later when there will be a rush of students all looking to do some shopping or have a bit of weekend fun.
He wasn’t here for you, having come instead to look for a hook-up, but he’s not going to ignore a perfectly good opportunity when it’s presented to him. He wastes no time in approaching, smiling as he does, eager to put a plan in motion to bring everything Chan wants crashing down on his fucking head.
You freeze when he calls your name, heart sinking as you register the voice you’re hearing. You know it all too well, never able to forget it. Despite your better judgment screaming at you to just keep walking, you turn in the direction you heard the voice to see Jaehyung standing against one of the plaza’s many support beams.
What was he doing here? You want to believe he didn't come out looking for you purposely, but you wouldn't put it past him; he's certainly capable of it. “Long time no chat, huh? Have you missed me?” he asked with the signature condescending tone you were once so familiar with.
“What do you want?” You ask sternly, deciding you absolutely will not entertain any of his mocking. “Wow, so hostile already,” Jae fakes a disappointed sigh as he crosses his arms, “That’s pretty brave of you given your guard dog is nowhere in sight.”
You glare at him as you stick your hands in your pockets, wanting to have your phone at the ready in case he tries something with you. “If you touch me you’ll regret it. Chan will know it was you,” you say, trying to sound braver than you feel. You had no doubt that Chan would kick Jae's ass if he did anything to you, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try anyways if he really wanted to.
“Yeah, you’re right, which is why I’m not gonna do any of that shit. I just wanna talk to you," Jaehyung says, and your brow immediately raises in suspicion. He just wants to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “Talk about what? There’s nothing I want to hear from you,” you counter, and he chuckles, having fully expected a reaction like that.
“Just hear me out. How well do you know Chan? Like really know him?” he counters back. “..Why?” you ask with a frown. You wanted to say you knew Chan well, but the truth is that there’s still a lot about him you don’t have insight on.
Despite that, you’re sure that anything Jae has to say about him isn’t going to be the truth, and you certainly won’t let anything from Jae’s mouth change how you feel about someone. Especially not Chan.
“Mm, I see,” Jae responds, seemingly amused at the way you refuse to offer anything up. “How about this then, do you know what he does for a living?” You narrow your eyes at his question. What is he getting at by asking you something like that?
“He works at a convenience store,” you respond flatly, not wanting to give away anything you feel from his pestering. “Oh, does he? Are you sure about that?” he responds with a sarcastic smile that leaves you feeling uneasy. “What are you insinuating?”
“Do you really think that the money he makes at a convenience store earns him enough money to pay for that big ass house he lives in? All the food they eat, their bills, school expenses, everything? Even with a hell of a lot of overtime and his friends pitching in, that’s a bit unrealistic, don’t you think?” he once again counters your question with one of his own, clearly trying to plant seeds of doubt about Chan within you. “Cmon, you’re smarter than that, why don’t you think about it harder?"
You glare at him again, refusing to listen any further or reach whatever conclusion he is attempting to bring you to. “Whatever you’re trying to say about Chan, I don’t care. Tell it to someone else.” You start to turn to walk away, feeling fed up with his game at this point, but he quickly grabs your arm to stop you.
“Let go,” you protest as you try to tug your arm away, but he tightens his grip. “Just listen,” he says as he keeps a firm hold on you, “Chan isn’t as good as you think he is.” You scoff at his words. As if someone like him was any better?
You’d take Chan over him any day, no matter what it is you don’t know about him. “You’re going to lecture me on good people? After all you’ve done to me? Whatever Chan may or may not be involved in, I’d take my chances with him rather than spend even another second around you.”
Jae’s face contorts in anger at your words, and he roughly throws your arm back at you. “Fine, go fuck your piece of shit criminal boyfriend and see where it gets you!”
…What?
Jae sees the shock and confusion clearly on your face, and his usual smug smile replaces the scowl he held just a moment ago. “What, you didn’t know? He does some real bad shit in his free time, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets arrested one of these days,” he returns to his mocking tone, clearly trying to get even more of a reaction out of you.
“I don’t believe you,” you respond and he laughs, as if he expected to hear that. “Of course you don’t. But I can prove it to you.” “Prove it how?” you question despite your better judgment. You know you shouldn’t indulge Jae by leaning into whatever he was trying to make you think, but if there was some semblance of truth in his statement.. What would that mean for Chan? For his brothers, and for you?
“Meet up with me later, you’ll see then,” he says plainly and you frown in response. “I trust you even less than I believe you,” you say as you cross your arms and Jae laughs again; you certainly have gotten more of a spine since the last time he saw you. "Like you said, they'd know it was me if something happens to you. I really have nothing to gain from tricking you unless I have a death wish.”
You narrow your eyes, contemplating the situation before making any definite decision. You supposed what he was saying is true at least; anything he tried would get back to the guys, and they’d make him regret it with no hesitation.
But even so, you were still hesitant to go along with this. You really didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by buying into whatever he was trying to tell you, but now there was a gnawing feeling in the back of your head telling you that if it was true, and Chan is a criminal, you needed to know.
“..Fine, but don’t expect me to go anywhere private with you,” you finally say, a knot building in your stomach as you commit to seeing what Jae thinks is so terrible about Chan. “Fine with me, princess, just show up where I tell you to and you’ll see everything you need to,” he smirks at you and your stomach churns, both from the smug look on his face and the nauseating nickname.
“I’ll reach out, so don’t chicken out, ‘kay? I expect to see you,” he grins before he turns away, leaving you to resume your evening. As he gets further away, guilt and uncertainty begins to creep up on you. What if this is something you and Chan can never come back from? What if you can never trust each other again? Is it worth potentially losing someone so special to you? You hope beyond words that this isn’t a decision you’ll come to regret.
It takes Jae a week to reach out to you again, doing so on social media cause there was absolutely no way in hell you’d ever give him your phone number. You also didn’t see Chan much that week, the guilt and worry eating away at you every time you looked at him, knowing that at some point, Jae was supposedly going to present you with evidence of Chan being a bad person. You still don’t believe that he is, but you need to put this to rest yourself, and not give room for any doubts about Chan to live in your head.
The address Jae sends you is indeed a public one, a relatively large park just outside of the city that you imagine is popular with the families that live close to it. At the time you’re going though, there definitely won’t be any families there. You have reservations about meeting up with Jae at night, even if it’s at a public place, but he insists that night is the only time that’ll work because “people don’t do shady shit during the day” apparently.
Begrudgingly, you go to the park well before the appointed hour, passing the time on a bench until Jae shows up, having your phone at the ready just in case this is all some sort of elaborate plot to get you where he wants you. He grins when he sees you, shooting you a wave that you don’t reciprocate. “Nice to see you,” he says with a smirk as he walks up to you.
“Can’t say the same about you,” you respond flatly, “let’s just get this over with.” “Gladly,” he responds, motioning for you to stand up. You do, hesitantly, and he walks over to a small hill at the edge of the park, walking up it and expecting you to follow.
“What are we doing?” you ask, cautiously taking steps to reach the top. “Look there,” Jae points across the street, where street lights illuminate a rather empty street, with a small alley just within your line of sight. “Just wait, this won’t take long,” he says, holding his characteristically smug smile as he leans his weight against a tree.
You frown as you turn your attention back to the street, looking around for anything you’re supposed to be noticing but aren’t, but you don’t notice anything in particular of importance. On top of that, your mind is at war with itself, one part scolding you for really following along with this, while the other demands you see it through so you can put any doubts about Chan’s character to rest.
“There we go,” Jae says enthusiastically as two figures appear on the street walking next to each other, one man that you don’t recognize and one that you definitely do- Chan.
“What is this?” you ask, not sure what’s so critically important about watching Chan walk the street with some guy you don’t know. “You’ll see, just don’t take your eyes off him,” Jae responds, pointing forward and urging you to not look away for even a moment.
The pair step into the alley, and while there’s no light to illuminate them fully when they’re off the main street, you can still see them well enough. They’re talking, you think, calmly at first, but then it becomes more animated, with the stranger becoming increasingly more expressive with his arms and hands.
He’s.. panicked? He takes a step back, trying to put distance between himself and Chan, but then it happens- a punch thrown, by none other than Chan himself. He hits the man hard, and he crumples to the ground instantly, arms coming up to protect his head after he’s hit the floor.
That should be it, you think, but no, it continues, with Chan throwing punch after punch, unrelenting. You can hear the main cry out in pain now, his voice carrying easily to you in the otherwise silent area. You don’t understand- what is Chan doing? You’ve never seen him like this, but surely there’s a reason, right?
Chan reaches into the man's pockets now, fishing for something, and he finds it soon enough- his wallet. You watch in disbelief as Chan takes the money and shoves it in his own pocket, throwing the wallet back at the man as if it’s worthless now. When he emerges from the alley, it’s even worse- you can see the blood on his knuckles, can see how it drips down to the ground, evidence that there was no mistake in what you saw.
“Chan!” Jae calls out enthusiastically, rushing down the hill to make his way to him, “Thanks for the show!” Chan looks visibly surprised to see Jae running up to him, but then sighs, rolling his eyes as Jae approaches him.
You move down the hill hesitantly, not sure if Chan has noticed you’re here too, but hoping for some kind of explanation. “Why were you watching?” You can hear Chan question as you start to get to the bottom of the hill.
“What, can’t a guy watch? It’s entertaining seeing a shitty guy get what's comin’ to him,” Jae answers and Chan scoffs before he holds his hand out to Jae, clearly waiting to be given something. “Ironic coming from you. But whatever, I did what you asked, so just pay me so we can get out of here.”
“Yeah, yeah, good doin’ business with you and shit,” Jae smiles as he reaches into his pocket, putting a large stack of bills into Chan’s hand. Jae looks back at you then, who is still standing across the street at the bottom of the park’s hill, confusion and disbelief threatening to rip your brain apart as it tries to make sense of everything.
“There you go princess, all the proof you need,” he says with a smirk; he accomplished exactly what he was hoping to- anything you had with Chan is ruined. Chan is clearly confused, and follows Jae’s gaze straight to you, who he realizes just witnessed the entire exchange. His face changes in an instant when his eyes meet yours, blood draining from his face and eyes going wide.
Jae says something to him then, but he says it so low that you can’t hear it, and Chan’s gaze remains fixed on you, as if Jae isn’t even there anymore. “Well, I’ll leave you two to sort this out. And don’t worry about the guy in the alley, he’s a good friend of mine so I’ll get him home,” he says in a smug tone, clearly happy with the situation he’s created.
“Fuck you Jae,” you bite as you shove past him, rushing up to Chan who has begun to hurriedly step away from the scene. You hear Jae laugh behind you, but you ignore it, fixed on your goal. You need to talk to Chan. “Chan, please wait!” you call to him, doing your best to keep up with him despite how much faster he is than you.
You know what happened just now is wrong, that whatever is going on with him is bad, but you need to hear him tell you why he’s doing it, you need to know what’s going through his head. “Chan-” you’re about to plead again but he stops, allowing you to catch up with him.
He slowly turns to you, hesitant to meet your gaze even as you look up at him. Fuck, he felt so stupid. How could he believe you'd never find out about his secret life? How could he believe that one day you'd be with him happily?
He was so incredibly naive, and he hated it, hated how he had tricked himself into believing he could have normalcy and happiness with someone else. Who was he kidding? There was no way he'd ever be allowed to live a life like that.
“..I need to call Changbin, and then I’ll take you home,” he says lowly as he takes his phone out of his pocket, and you watch as he puts some distance between you, not trying to get away from you but just far enough to have as private of a conversation with Changbin as he can.
“Hey hyung, what’s up?” Changbin’s voice comes through jovially on the other end, but he can tell immediately something is wrong when all he hears is a shaky exhale as Chan tries to find the words. “Hyung, what’s wrong?” A million possibilities race through Changbin’s mind; he knows what Chan does for extra cash, and he knows the dangers that can come from it.
He’s trying not to assume the worst, but fuck, whatever happened must be bad if Chan is choked up on the other end. “I’m gonna be late coming home tonight. I, uh.. I need to take Y/N home. She’s with me,” Chan says and Changbin is quiet for a moment as he processes the information he was given. “I thought you had a job tonight, though. Are you saying..?”
“Yeah, she saw me,” Chan interjects, not even needing to let Changbin finish his question. “Fuck, okay, just.. Take your time, alright? Don’t rush to come home, we’re fine. I’ll let the others know you'll be out a while, just take care of Y/N.”
“Yeah, I will.. Thanks, I’ll see you later,” Chan mutters into the phone before he hangs up, stuffing it back into his pocket and taking another shaky breath before he turns back to you. “Chan-” you start when you see him walking back over to you, but he quickly cuts you off.
“Let’s get you home, I didn’t park my car too far from here,” he says tersely, walking briskly towards the end of the street. You frown, but decide not to dwell on it too much; you can’t imagine what he must be feeling right now, and the last thing you want to do is make the situation even worse than it already is.
You follow him swiftly, trying not to be concerned about the silence between you. It doesn’t take long for you to see his car, parked in a nearby empty parking lot, the only car in sight. Chan doesn’t drive much, his car basically reserved strictly for work and emergencies, so you’ve only been in it a handful of times.
You wonder now though if this is the reason he only uses it when he has to– do police know his license plate? You don’t know if you’re ready to find out the answer to that question.
When you reach his car, he unlocks it wordlessly, and you both enter quietly, neither of you uttering a single thing even as he starts the engine and pulls onto the street. You want to try talking to him again but you aren't sure if you should even try yet; he's very clearly upset but if he's not ready to talk about it yet then there's nothing you can do.
Truthfully, Chan desperately wants to say something, hating the silence he was subjecting you to, but found himself at a loss for words and stuck in his own head. Jae's words before he walked away rang in his mind over and over again. "If you think a good girl like her can fall in love with trash like you, you're pathetic." And it was true, he was pathetic.
It was pathetic to pretend he could have a better life than this. Pathetic to think you would always be with him. Pathetic to think anything about him was worthy of love. What kind of happy life was he hoping for when this is what his life was truly like?
He knew there was no easy way out of this kind of shit once you entered it, but at the time he really had no choice. He tried everything else possible and there was nothing left; and even with how dangerous he knew it could be he was resolved to see it through because when he began he was just a kid in desperate need of cash at any cost.
He wishes things could be different now. He didn't want you to ever see this side of his life, to see the kinds of things he had to do to afford all of the things a person needs to survive. And while the rational part of Chan's brain was telling him there was no way you'd just walk away or hate him, it was overpowered by the wave of self loathing washing over him.
Because even if you didn't hate him after this, could you love him? Could you even still look at him the same way you could just last week, when you gave him that bright smile you always did. Would you still want to confide in him? To rely on him? To let him rely on you? He doesn’t know if you realized it, but Chan has come to rely on you a lot.
Not in the overt ways like asking for help or opening up about his deepest thoughts, which he only did on occasion, but in the normalcy you offered him. In your presence, Chan felt like the life he wanted was attainable, like he could leave all the bad behind him and have something good.
You were always there to distract him from the life he led privately, to give him a sense of peace. He could be comfortable around you, and allow himself to relax. He could be carefree and live in the moment instead of being stressed about what the future held for him. He could forget about all his regrets just from seeing you smiling up at him.
Late at night when insomnia was gripping him, he would look over your messages fondly and wonder what it would be like to share a bed one day. For you to be next to him on his worst nights and help lull him into a peaceful sleep that he wasn't normally rewarded. To kiss you awake and bask in how beautiful you’d be naked with the morning sun glowing around you.
To Chan, any chance of that future with you was taken away the moment you saw the ugly truth of his life. Even if by some miracle you decided you still wanted to be around him, he knew it wouldn't be the same. There was no way your view of him wouldn't be tainted after this.
You'd become strained, being pulled away from each other little by little until nothing was left of the friendship you once held, or of the feelings he'd hoped to admit to you when he was able to leave behind the things that bound him. He should just leave your life now, before things get even worse; the pain he'd have to endure if he held on now would become unbearable.
You'd distance yourself from him, you'd meet a good guy who actually deserves you and fall in love, you'd forget all about him.. And that's how it should be. You deserved better than him; he knew he had nothing of worth to offer you.
And he was sure in response you'd bring up how he was there for you and supported you, but anyone could do that. That was the bare minimum of a relationship. What did he have to offer you other than support? There was nothing he could think of that felt good enough or like he was worthy of anyone's time, much less yours.
It was better to get the heartbreak over with now.. it would hurt, but much less so than if he prolonged the process. He needed to just rip the bandaid off now and get it over with for both your sakes. He couldn't delay the inevitable.
You felt stiff, the silence deafening as he drove you to your dorm. You couldn't tell what Chan was feeling anymore, his face completely void of anything, as if he turned his emotions off entirely. You didn't know what to do; he cut you off when you tried to speak to him earlier, and now it seemed like anything you said now wouldn't reach him. It was as if he was running on autopilot, like he wasn't truly there with you anymore.
It didn't take all that long to reach your street given that you were traveling by car, and you felt dread welling in your gut. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you know he must have his reasons, that you understand that life is cruel and he's probably just doing what he has to, to tell him you understand why he didn't tell you but that you want to hear him out and be there for him regardless. You were approaching your dorm now, and you turned to look at him once again.
He was so close but felt so far away, his face remaining devoid of emotion. His gaze didn't meet yours, instead he stared straight ahead at the street even after he parked, as if purposely avoiding your eyes. "Chan.." you start again, hoping he'll finally respond to you. You see him swallow and his hands tense up, clutching the steering wheel tighter now.
His lower lip begins to tremble, but he tells himself he can't give in. This is what is best for you, he's sure of it. Just rip the bandaid off now, it'll be better that way. He can't make your life worse if he steps away now. He can't give himself false hope if he lets you go now. "Chan, I–" "Just go inside," he cuts you off, the pain evident in his voice despite how hard he's trying to mask it.
"But I–" "Don't. Please don't. Just go." Tears well in your eyes, but you obliged, feeling like now isn't the time to push him on anything. Chan doesn't watch as you exit the car, nor does he acknowledge the way you look back at him one last time before you enter your dorm.
It's better this way. It's better this way. It's better this way. He lowers his head to the steering wheel, resting his forehead against his shaking hands. And for the first time in years, he really cries, knowing that you'll never look at him the same again.
You woke up the next morning with the hopes that Chan was ready to talk to you. You texted him when you were in bed last night, telling him that you care about him and that you just want to talk to him, but he left you with no response.
You reasoned with yourself that he’d need more time; Jaehyung unveiling Chan’s deepest secret to you must have shaken him far more than you can imagine, and it makes sense that he’d need time to process.
Chan led an undeniably hard life, you knew that well at this point; he lost his parents young, his adoptive family were terrible to him, and he dropped out and left them behind to try to make it on his own. He never shared any details about the things he had to do as a child to get by, just leaving it at simple statements that offered no further context.
And you weren’t deluded into expecting anything from him; regardless of details he did or didn’t share, you knew he had been through a lot and you weren’t going to ask anything of him that he wasn’t prepared to offer up himself.
You figured that one day, when Chan had grown comfortable enough and was assured that you were a safe person to share the details of his life with, he’d break down his barriers on his own. All you had to do was be there for him, be consistent with your words and actions, and offer him a safe space to be his authentic self; whatever that self may be.
And while this wasn’t the outcome you had expected, you hoped that all your efforts up until now had shown him that you were someone he could trust. You weren’t going to judge him, you weren’t going to abandon him, your opinion of him hadn’t changed with the truth. And you told him as much through messages, hoping that when he read them that he’d believe your words.
When he didn’t respond you were saddened, but it had only been a few hours since everything took place so you didn’t fault him. You were sure he just needed time, and you didn’t want to put any further pressure on him when he was clearly upset, so instead you just offered kind words to assure him everything was okay.
However, as the days passed on, you began to lose hope that he’d ever respond. You did your best to stop the sadness encroaching in your heart, telling yourself that there could be a ton of reasons he isn’t speaking to you right now. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, there was surely a reasonable explanation.
His life didn’t revolve around you after all, and a small break in communication shouldn’t linger over you like this. You continued to comfort yourself with rational explanations as you went about your days, hoping with all your heart that you weren’t just deluding yourself.
Felix, who saw you most days due to your routine of coming into the cafe he worked at, could see the toll it was taking on you to have Chan not talk to you. He didn’t even know what exactly happened; Changbin said the two of you had a tiff, but that it should resolve itself after a bit since the two of you cared so much about each other.
But as time went on, with Chan so distant and holed up in his room unless he was working, he wasn’t so sure that whatever went on between you was something minor. And then when you stopped in one morning, you confirmed what Felix already feared; that Chan’s isolation didn’t extend to just them, but to you as well.
He wasn’t replying to any of your texts, and that made Felix’s concern for the two of you grow tenfold. So he talked about it with the others in the house, and the 3 of them agreed that you should come over to try and make whatever happened right. And besides, all of you were friends, so it only made sense to facilitate a resolution between you.
They ask you over on a friendly pretense; it’s been a while since you all hung out together, and some fun seemed like it was much needed. You were nervous given the state of your friendship with Chan, but ultimately agreed because you really did miss them as well.
Changbin was the one to answer the door when you arrived at their house, smiling and easing your anxiety by making casual conversation with you. Hyunjin and Felix smiled as well when they saw you, greeting you warmly and offering you hugs before you sat down on the couch.
Hyunjin sat next to you, while Changbin and Felix sat on the chairs nearby. “Is Chan here?” you asked, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you glanced toward the stairs. “Not yet, but he will be soon! While we wait, we should figure out dinner. Anything you want?” Felix suggests and you smile as you nod, feeling comforted by the fact that you have such good friends.
Chan walks into the house not much later, freezing up once further inside and seeing you sitting there with his brothers. “Hey hyung, we’re just ordering some food before we have a movie night! You should join us,” Felix smiles, hoping that once Chan sees you all together, he can put aside whatever made him so upset and can go back to how things were before.
Your heart breaks when you look at him, noticing that his dark circles are worse than before, hurt by the knowledge that he must’ve lost even more sleep than he already does, and it’s all your fault. He avoids your gaze, looking instead at his brothers; he knew this was bound to happen, you became friends with them just as much as him, after all.
And while Changbin knew the real reason behind Chan’s distance from you, the other 2 didn’t, so of course they’d invite you over to the house and try to rebuild the bridge that he’d burnt. But he couldn’t take it; the way all of you stared at him, expecting something from him.
You swallow, trying your best not to cry as you look at him, waiting for him to say something to ease all the sadness and anxiety within you. “..No, thanks,” he mutters, going quickly up the stairs and straight to his room, the sound of his door closing clearly heard once he’s reached it. Dejection settles in your gut, your heart shattering into more pieces than you could possibly count.
Changbin, who is sitting directly across from you, is the first to see your crestfallen expression, and he tries to offer you words of consolation, but you can barely even hear them. You stare down at your lap, trying to blink away the tears that welled in your eyes. Would he never speak to you again? Did you irreparably damage his trust in you? Why wouldn’t he say anything to you?
He was the first person in your life to ever see what Jae was doing to you and help, and he brought with him the kindest people you had ever known. He supported you through your tears, he protected you from the people who wanted to hurt you most.
He listened to you as you talked about your life's worries, even when it was something silly like not wanting to do the night's homework. Chan became a constant in your life, truly living up to his promise to be there for you during any and everything, both good and bad. And now that same person was pulling away from you for reasons you couldn’t understand.
The tears begin pouring before you can even try to stop them, falling to your lap and darkening the fabric of your pants where they fall. Hyunjin notices right away, and pulls you into a hug, trying his best to comfort you by assuring you that nothing happening was your fault.
“It is my fault,” you choke out between sobs, burying your face in Hyunjin’s shoulder as sobs escape you. Felix quickly moves in next to you as well, rubbing your back and offering just as much kindness as his brother.
Changbin’s expression turns into a grimace as he listens to you sniffle and sob, how you blame yourself for everything that was happening despite his brother’s best efforts to calm your aching heart. What the fuck is Chan doing?
Felix watches him stand, a look of concern painted on his features; nothing good happens when Changbin is angry. “I’ll be back,” he says with irritability clear in his voice, stepping away from the chair and to the stairs.
He reaches Chan’s bedroom door in a matter of seconds, trying the door knob without hesitation and is pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. Good, so he didn’t have to pound at the door and make him come out then. He opens it swiftly, met with the sight of Chan simply sitting on his bed, doing not much of anything.
Chan frowns as he turns to his now open door, but isn’t all that surprised at this turn of events. He knew one of them would confront him eventually, and Changbin wasn’t one to hold his tongue if something was on his mind. It was only a matter of time before Chan got what he was anticipating.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Changbin questions, wasting no time at getting straight to the point. Chan expected that Changbin wouldn’t waste any time dancing around the subject, but he still wasn’t prepared to unearth the extent of his self loathing.
Was he really going to admit how pathetic he felt out loud? Admit to how much he hated himself? Admit to how he felt unworthy of anyone’s time? The silence only served to spur on Changbin’s annoyance, and he crosses his arms as he steps closer to Chan. “Are you really not going to say anything?”
Chan looks up at Changbin from his seat, meeting his accusatory gaze. “It’s better this way.” he says and Changbin scoffs in response, clearly finding his answer unsatisfactory. “Oh yeah? Y/N crying her eyes out because you refuse to acknowledge her is better?”
Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest at hearing that you’re crying, but he still knew it was for the best. After the initial pain she’ll move on and forget about me like she should. She shouldn’t want someone like me. She shouldn’t support someone like me. I have nothing. I am nothing.
“Yeah, it’s better.” Chan manages to force the words out. “What about what you promised her? Are you going to sit around and do nothing if Jae targets her again?” Changbin’s voice raises, not quite a yell but still louder than his previous speaking tone.
“She still has you and the others.” Chan frowns as he answers. It’s not like he was leaving you completely alone and defenseless; his friends were your friends too now, and he knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you.
“We’re not the ones she wants,” Changbin nearly shouts, and Chan tenses at this, the statement clearly striking a chord in him. “That’s the whole problem! I shouldn’t be the one she wants!” Chan shouts suddenly as he stands from his bed now, seemingly unable to control the sudden outburst.
He freezes after realizing he just said what he was thinking out loud for Changbin to hear; now he knows how pathetic and cowardly he truly is, and there would be no taking it back. Changbin’s brows furrow in bewilderment as he stares at Chan.
He understood that what Chan did to make money has risks, and he understood why he wouldn’t want you to be a part of that. What he couldn’t understand was why Chan was shutting you out now that you knew about it. Why was he needlessly subjecting you to pain when, in his opinion, you could simply talk it out?
From Changbin’s perspective, everything would be okay. You clearly didn’t think negatively of him after the reveal, you were still seeking him out and wanting to be near him regardless of what you’d found out about him. And even if you did harbor some ill feeling about it that Changbin couldn’t notice, you were at least trying.
You weren’t going to let something you cared about go over a single event, unlike Chan, who was acting like a fucking coward right now. He was throwing everything away, and for what? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“You’re being a fucking idiot,” Changbin scowls. “You just don’t understand,” Chan counters and Changbin scoffs at the statement. “Then make me understand. What am I not getting here? I’d love to know.” Changbin challenged him, words dripping with frustration.
You don’t understand that she’s too good for trash like me. What is there to love about me? What can I offer her that couldn’t be given by someone else? What kind of life can we live together with the things I've done? She’s smart, ambitious, beautiful..
She can strive for better life and a better person. Someone with high aspirations. Someone who has a better education. Someone who didn’t lead a dangerous life and could put her in danger just by association.
But instead of saying all that he just averts his gaze, stepping down from Changbin’s challenge without a word. “Fine then, you can have fun with your pity party by yourself, cause I’m not staying to watch it,” Changbin bites as he swiftly turns his back to Chan, preparing to leave his room.
“You may be willing to treat a promise like it’s nothing, but don’t expect the rest of us to be okay with it.” He leaves as soon as he’s finished, slamming Chan’s door behind him as he goes.
Right. This is what he deserves. To have nothing and no one, just like before. Because why should he have anything good after what he’s done? He wanted to be the good person you saw him as, but he just isn’t.
He’s the worst kind of hypocrite, his virtue circumstantial and fleeting. The good things he did for the people he cared about didn’t cancel out all the bad that came before it, forever staining him no matter how many layers he scrubbed.
He tried to comfort himself by saying he did it because he had to, because he had no other choice and couldn’t afford to live otherwise, but did it matter? Could he say he lived a life his parents would be proud of? No, but you made him want to try.
And he was trying, so, so hard; to leave all that bad shit behind, to be someone worth caring about, to be better. But there are some things that never change, some things that can’t be left behind or escaped from no matter what you do, and he supposes this is just another reminder of that lesson.
The weeks that followed Chan’s refusal to see you were easily the most painful of your life. You’d never experienced a heartbreak like this before, any pain you thought you felt before paling in comparison to the utter anguish you felt from the loss of Chan in your life.
At least before, when you had become distant and separated from friends, you still had contact; you could message each other freely, you could meet up during school breaks or even weekends if time permitted, you still had your bond despite being in different places. But with Chan, it felt like he burnt every bridge he ever had with you.
You gave up trying to talk to him all together, letting the amount of messages you’d send in a day fizzle more and more, until they inevitably reached zero. In your daily life, you still had the others, but it didn’t feel the same; you felt like an intruder now, like you were encroaching on their space.
You felt like you would just cause strife by being there, so eventually you stopped accepting invitations to hang out with them. Even when you saw them away from the house, you couldn’t meet their smiles the way you once had, because all it did was deepen the ache in your heart.
You wanted to appreciate it, to thank them for trying to keep your friendship alive, but every time it just served as a reminder that Chan wouldn't be there for you anymore. You also felt at fault for causing a rift between them.
Though you stopped staying around the group pretty soon after Chan made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you, you could tell things weren’t the same between them anymore. Changbin especially always seemed to be upset with him, calling him an idiot or a coward, making his distaste for what happened well known.
Hyunjin would continue to assure you that nothing was your fault, that Chan just had complicated feelings to work through, but despite his words, you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling at fault regardless. If Chan had never helped you in the first place that day he saw Jae on you, their friendship wouldn’t be in this state.
If you were a stronger person back then, someone who could handle things by herself, then he wouldn’t have had to step in. And now even Felix makes an effort to comfort you all the time, going as far as to give you an extra cookie and discounting your coffee whenever you’re in his cafe.
They always showed you just how kind they were, compassionate beyond words and so patient (well, maybe except Changbin, who definitely was not patient.) Truly, you admired them, and Chan above all, who they credited for bringing them together and making them who they are in the first place.
But now that same person who you had quickly grown to admire so much was avoiding you on all fronts, leaving you with nothing else to do but move on or wait for him to come to terms with whatever he was struggling with.
And truthfully you didn’t want to move on, but waiting wasn’t becoming any easier. Despite the fact that he was within reach, there was nothing you could do. Every glimpse you caught of him or reminder of his absence from his friends left your heart aching in your chest.
Before you realize it, your last class of the day has ended, and you sigh as you look down at your nonexistent notes. You found it difficult lately to focus on your work with your mind cycling through all its thoughts about Chan.
You used to find an escape in your school work; even if everything was crashing around you, you could pour your energy into your work, and find some satisfaction with the good grades you got in exchange for your efforts. But now even that was difficult for you, and you sighed as you knew you’d have to play catch up in your spare time if you wanted to maintain your grades.
It was the first time in your life you’d ever felt so inadequate; even though it was merely a stress induced performance loss, it still tanked the confidence you had in your ability to succeed, which was the last thing you needed to add to your growing list of problems.
Your only saving grace at this point was that Changbin agreed to help you out, and that your professors were gracious enough to let you re-do assignments or get in some extra credit (which they only did because of the good track record you had before your personal life tanked.)
Truthfully, you felt terrible requesting Changbin’s help to catch back up in your classes, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He thankfully agreed to study away from the house so you wouldn’t risk seeing Chan, and having your heart shatter again after having just managed to start picking up the pieces.
You text him now that your class has ended to make sure the study session is still on, and with his confirmation, you decide it’d be a good idea to head back to your room and prepare to meet up with him. It takes you no more than 15 minutes to get back to the dorms from where your last class was, and you spend a decent amount of time cramming your bag full of all the textbooks and supplementary materials you’ll need for the evening.
The plan was to study together at Sunshine Cafe, where the two of you could sprawl your belongings out on one of the coffee tables towards the back and sit on the comfort of the couch, while Felix would provide you with snacks and drinks to get you through the brain overload you’d certainly begin to feel.
It’ll still be some time before Changbin meets up with you given that your class schedules don’t entirely align, but it’d still be good to head out and get some self study in until he gets there. And you could really use a change in secenery given that all you've done lately is go to you classes and then straight back to your dorm when they were over.
Once assured you have everything you need tucked in your bag, you sling it over your shoulders, letting your roommates know you might not be home till late before you head out. Walking to the cafe with all the extra weight on your back and shoulders certainly isn’t pleasant, but you’ll just have to deal with it if you want to make sure you do well on your catch-up assignments and upcoming exams.
And all in all, you actually feel pretty good right now; your friendship with Chan and emotional state might be in shambles, but at least you’re trying your best to pick yourself back up, and that’s what matters most, right?
But all that positivity you feel is drained in an instant, when at the end of the street you’re on, you see Jae standing right in your path, looking at you with a smile once he notices you’re there. You curse, knowing you still have a few blocks to traverse before you reach your destination, and that anything could happen in the time it takes to get there.
He starts to approach you, smirking as he does- you don’t know what he has planned when he reaches you, but you don’t want to find out. Did he know that Chan stopped being there for you? Does he think that now that Chan is out of your life he can do whatever he wants? Or was it a cruel coincidence that he saw you here, a coincidence that he now plans on taking advantage of?
You still have the others, but it’s extremely possible that Jae either doesn’t know, doesn’t care, or is willing to risk it now that Chan being out of the picture takes away one of his biggest threats. There’s a slight hope that maybe he just wants to say something, rubbing salt in your wound by saying “I told you so,” and then he’d go on his way, but the look in his eyes tells you otherwise.
He has the same insidious look you saw every day when you were in school together, the twisted delight in his eyes that told you whatever you were in for wouldn’t be pleasant. You quickly turn the other direction, ducking into a side street you’d passed moments prior, hoping that you can either use the side streets to make it to the cafe or make Jae lose sight of you.
If you were lucky, you’d make it there with no problems, and Felix could shelter you in the cafe until Jae left on his own or Changbin showed up and made him leave. You hear Jae’s laugh behind you, and you panic as you notice that he’s catching up to you much quicker than you’d hoped, the weight of your countless textbooks and study materials definitely not doing you any favors.
Shit- what do you do now? It becomes increasingly apparent that Jae catching up to you is inevitable, and there is nowhere for you to turn to escape him. As quickly as you can, you grab your phone from out of your bag, hoping that Jae doesn’t realize what you’re doing.
You needed to call Chan; you weren’t even sure if he’d uphold the promise he made to you at this point, but what other hope did you have? Chan was the person who said he’d always answer if you called him, and you wanted to believe that. No, you had to believe that.
Not wasting any further time thinking about it, you send Chan a ping of your location before promptly pressing the call button on his name, haphazardly shoving your phone back in your bag and praying that Jae doesn’t notice as thing when he reaches you.
Chan frowned as he sat on his couch, once again thinking about you despite his best efforts to get you off his mind. Despite how much he knew it was best to detach himself from you, he still found himself unable to do so easily.
Maybe it was his underlying selfishness that didn’t want to let you go, or that his feelings for you had just grown far too much to be quashed, but he couldn’t help but continue to worry about you every day. He felt stupid being so upset about a decision he made, that he truly felt was the right thing to do, but the right decisions are never the easy ones, or so the saying goes.
But still, the gnawing feeling continued to eat away at him day after day. ”You’re seeing Y/N today right?” he couldn’t help himself from asking Changbin before he left for the day, and he rolled his eyes, giving Chan an incredulous look.
“So you care all of a sudden, huh? Heard me talking about it with Felix? Yeah, we’re meeting up when my classes are over. But don’t worry,” Changbin says with a mildly sarcastic tone before he continues, “I’ll do a good job of looking after her since you won’t.”
Chan frowned at Changbin’s tone, but he knows it isn’t entirely undeserved given the circumstances. You’re their friend too after all, and he wouldn’t talk kindly to this either if the roles were reversed and it was someone else doing this to you.
“Binnie-hyung is still giving you a hard time, I see,” Hyunjin said as he stepped in from the kitchen, sitting next to Chan with his breakfast in hand. Chan just sighed in response, closing his eyes and letting his head hit the back of the couch.
Was he really doing the right thing or was he just deluding himself into thinking so? Even putting aside the fact that he hasn’t loved himself a day in his life, isn't it just objectively true that you should want nothing to do with him? He knows you care about him, but it’s not exactly uncommon for good people to put their love in the wrong places, and Chan is definitely one of those wrong places.
“It’s not too late to make up with Y/N if you want to, you know,” Hyunjin spoke carefully, hoping that at the very least Chan would openly admit and talk about what went so wrong instead of keeping everything so bottled up inside.
Time passed, and for a moment Hyunjin thought Chan wouldn't say anything at all, before he suddenly spoke up. “I.. don’t know about that. I’m not sure if I even want her to forgive me.”
“Why not?” Hyunjin asked, taken aback by the admission. Chan sighed again, self-doubt and anxiety making their presence obvious as they always did when he was dealing with complicated emotions. Truth be told, there was a lot of lingering doubt about his reaction towards you that Chan was scared to confront.
Should he stop being so stubborn and talk to you or should he be assured in his decision and maintain his distance? He heard multiple times that he was an idiot for detaching himself in the first place (mostly from Changbin, who was the most outspoken with this thoughts), and though he felt like it was the right decision at the time given all his faults and self-doubt, he couldn’t fight the way he missed being around you every day.
He knew how much it would hurt to separate himself from you, but it’s what felt right at the time given the tirade of self-hatred that told him he had to. He knew the guys didn't agree, and he knew it hurt you just as much as it hurt him, but how was he supposed to explain to everyone how much he hated himself?
How much he loved you but knew he would just hold you back? You deserved better than to fall in love with a criminal for hire with no future ambitions. You deserved better than someone who was just coasting through life until the day no one needed him anymore and left him behind.
Not to mention that the only ones who knew the full extent of what he did in secrecy were Changbin, Minho, and now you. And he would've been okay with anyone else finding out the depths of terrible deeds, anyone of the other people he cared about but you. Just not you, anyone but you.
He used to not think at all about what it would be like to fall in love with someone; he assumed he could just figure it all out when the day came, even if it was years down the line. His mental health was in the gutter and life was hard, but when isn’t it? Aren’t most people unhappy?
Besides, he still had his friends, and that was good enough for him. And he didn’t want it to sound like he was never happy, or always miserable, but it wasn't until he spent more and more time with you that he realized how much he yearned for a deeper connection with someone.
Sure, being with his brothers made him happy, and the time he spent with them was valuable and irreplaceable to him, but what would happen in the future when they had their own lives? He barely sees half of them anymore, and soon the other half will move on too, following their dreams, meeting more and more new people, making new friends and building families.
And what would Chan have at the end of it all? Nothing, he had come to realize. He would have absolutely nothing.
No goals, no ambitions, and nothing to offer other than the bare minimum. And he knew you well enough now to know you would say that it's enough, but he just couldn't agree; to Chan, it was nowhere near enough for you, enough for anyone.
Becoming your friend opened his eyes to how many mistakes he’d been making, made him confront the reality that feelings and wants you bury deep down will always resurface, and he knew he couldn’t avoid all the things he’d been trying to anymore.
A lifetime’s worth of sadness, more regrets than he could count on his fingers, and a longing for connection with someone who would love him as he was, faults and all, and help him become better. He had that chance with you, and he blew it.
And then, instead of trying to make it right, he retreated back into the very shell he tried so hard to break out of. Instead of putting out the fire that had grown, he watched it burn, telling himself it was better to let everything become ash than risk the burns he would suffer from trying to salvage what little he had.
In the end, it’s all excuses. He didn’t want to face the fact that he was scared, or admit how little his self-worth he really has. So he fled the scene, and when he was called out, his arguments rang hollow, because even Chan himself knew how little his words could actually be believed.
It was true that Chan didn’t believe he deserved anything good, but maybe it was okay to let people care about him regardless. Maybe he needed them to, so that he could finally allow himself to be happy.
And so he talked to Hyunjin; he told him everything, about what he did, how he felt then and how he feels now, and about how much it hurts to be away from you when he’s so fucking obviously in love with you but feels too worthless to be around you. It was a lot of information to take in, but Hyunjin was truly happy he was finally doing something that was long overdue.
Chan had spent so much of his life avoiding his feelings and keeping his thoughts to himself, that Hyunjin expected him to dance around it, but he hadn’t. It was proof of the positive effect you had on him, evidence that Chan needed you even more than you thought you needed him.
Chan didn’t cry, though he certainly felt like he would at times, and Hyunjin truly was proud of him. Sure, he learned some things about Chan that definitely came as a shock, but he had hope that once Chan was done processing all his complicated feelings and getting himself out of the bad shit he no longer wanted to associate with, the two of you could go back to the friendship you once had.
He’d left Chan alone after that, citing that he had commissions to work on, though really he just thought it would do Chan some good to have some time to himself. He needed to let his thoughts and feelings settle, and hopefully get another step closer to reconnecting with you.
Chan himself was still on the couch, thinking a lot about what he should do going forward. Why did everything always have to be so complicated? He’s there for a while, cycling between various thoughts related to you and his feelings, when his phone suddenly buzzes from within his pocket.
He pulls it out, immediately being met with a message from you, the first you've sent in weeks. But it’s… your location? You’ve never sent him it before, and the fact that you did so without any other context spreads worry through him.
And before he can even react to receiving the message, a call comes through, caller ID clearly displaying your name. Out of all the time you'd known him, this was the first time you were actually calling him. He swallows before he answers, nervous as all hell but knowing he shouldn’t hesitate if you need help.
“Hello..?” Chan answers carefully, unsure if he should speak at full volume until he knows what kind of situation you’re in. His hand immediately clenches around his phone when he hears Jae’s voice clearly taunting you on the other end; it’s muffled, your phone’s speaker clearly blocked by something, but the voice Chan hears is unmistakable.
He curses under his breath as he moves the phone from his face to mute himself, not wanting to accidentally make Jae aware that you managed to call him. Chan refused to risk Jae finding out and ending the call before he can find out what exactly he’s doing to you.
"Aww, crying already?" he hears Jae's voice patronizing you. Chan scowls, fully aware that there’s no time to waste. He gets his shoes on as quickly as possible, sprinting out of his front door and rushing down the street in a matter of seconds.
The location you sent him is on a side street not all too far away from the house, and he hopes that Jae hasn’t dragged you too far away from the spot you sent him. The city is huge when you’re in the heart of it after all, and there would be more possibilities than Chan can count as to where you would be if you’re no longer there.
He runs as fast as his feet can possibly carry him, not wanting to waste even a single second in getting to you, or give Jae the opportunity to do something terrible. He holds the phone to his ear even as he runs, desperate for a sign that you’re doing okay despite whatever situation you’ve been put in.
“Chan taking you away from me really pissed me off. I like you a lot, you know,” Jae’s voice comes through the phone again, and his tone makes Chan grit his teeth. He wants to rain absolute hell on Jae, make him regret ever laying a single hand on you, but he knows he likely won’t get that chance.
Making sure you’re okay and getting you away is his priority, and as much as he wants to obliterate Jae, it will have to wait until after he takes care of you. No matter what Jae deserves, no matter how much he hates him, you are his one and only priority right now, and he will protect you.
You stare up at the bright blue sky, eyes fixed on the fluffy, passing clouds above you, and you don’t react. You’re limp against the cold, unforgiving wall you’ve been pressed against, completely numb, blocking out everything around you.
You hear Jae’s voice but his words don’t register, his hand on your body but your skin no longer reacts to what it feels. Your vision has blurred from tears in your eyes that haven’t fallen, but you continue to stare upward, making no effort to blink them away.
You had no words to describe the way you felt; it was a devastation so deep that it turned into nothingness, a void. You knew Chan wasn’t coming to help you and you shouldn’t have hoped for it.
All you did was set yourself up for the worst heartbreak of all, an incomparable feeling of betrayal and hopelessness, the solidification that this was your reality now, and you just had to face it instead of holding onto hope that it would be different.
But despite it all, you can’t really blame Chan for not being here. You knew you were weak, and you knew you were a target, but that isn’t Chan’s fault or responsibility. It must be a burden to worry about you all the time, or annoying that you don’t stand up for yourself nearly as much as you should.
Your few moments of strength get reduced to nothing in mere seconds, and you always revert back to the scared person you’ve always been. And no matter how foolish it is to hope for, all you can think about is how you wish Chan was here.
You hoped he’d be here, hoped he’d reassure you. You wanted to feel his gentle embrace and hear his voice, knowing he’d console you with tender words and a soothing tone. And most of all, you really just missed him, missed him more than anything, so, so much.
The way he smiled at you, the way his expression changed when he was embarrassed or being teased, the way he cared for everyone and everything more than you’d ever think a person capable of. Though he certainly did bad things, his kindness towards you was radiant.
You didn’t want to define him by what you saw, because you knew him beyond that. You knew how sweet he is, how caring he is, how much he wanted to help others. He understood the value in a helping hand and offered it freely to anyone who needed it without a second thought.
You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel anything but compassion for him even with how alone you felt from his absence. Your glimpses into his life allowed you to see him for who he was beyond what his appearance would suggest. You knew there was more to him than you even learned, hidden parts of his past, his life, and his feelings that you hadn’t yet uncovered.
So even when he distanced himself from you, you couldn’t hate him. You knew there was a reason, knew there was something underneath that he was scared to share with you. Chan wasn’t the type to leave someone behind nor break a promise, you refused to believe that he was.
You just wished he was here, wished that he’d share his thoughts and feelings with you. Wouldn’t things turn out differently if he had? You wanted to support him as much as he supported you. You wanted to encourage him and cheer him on.
Even with Jae’s words circling around you and his touch against your skin, your mind was consumed by Chan. At this point you felt you were crying more from his loss than from anything Jae was doing to you. He had just become a catalyst for your feelings to burst, his presence feeling almost nonexistent against the yearning you felt for Chan.
You loved him. Truly, and above all else. And you knew that no matter what, it wouldn’t change. Chan’s presence in your life irrevocably changed you; he supported you when no one else had, and you loved his personality and his endearing smile.
You loved the contrast between his tough exterior and his sweet characteristics. He was simultaneously strong and gentle, both cold and warm, sunshine and rain wrapped into one person. And you loved him, for all that he was.
"Get your fucking hands off her!" You hear Chan's voice shout and you blink in confusion, allowing the tears that were stuck to fall. Is he really here? Or are you in so much pain that now your brain is tricking you, trying to comfort you with a lie? You don’t know, but you welcome it all the same, because even if it is just a trick, it’s the best one you’ll ever be given.
Your body barely registers the feeling of Jae's weight being shifted off of you, Chan's voice having a chokehold on your senses. Your gaze shifts from the sky to the right; you see Jae, who has evidently fallen backwards onto the floor, the left side of his face a stark red from what you assume was an impact.
He’s clearly shocked, but the emotion quickly changes into one of pure hatred directed to the presence left of you. You swallow as you shift your gaze to the left, heart squeezing in your chest when you see Chan, more tears welling in your eyes. He's really here? He really came for you?
Chan's fists are clenched, gaze piercing into Jae with disgust and vitriol. He wants to fucking kill him if he's being honest, but he has to do his best to keep a level head for your sake. He has to get you out of here, keep you safe.
"You ever fucking touch her again, I promise you'll regret it," Chan spits at Jae, stepping closer to him and giving one more punch for good measure, assuring he'll stay down and not follow your exit. "Y/N, don't let go," Chan says as he turns to you, taking your hand in his.
The moment still feels surreal to you, but you do as he says, keeping your grip tight as he runs with you, leading you quickly away from Jae. You run for what feels like ages, but you surprisingly don’t feel tired; must be adrenaline coursing through you, or maybe the emotions you feel right now are preventing you from noticing any sort of ache in your legs.
The next thing you know, you’re at his house, with him leading you up to the safety of his room. You collapse to his bed the minute you’re fully inside, trying to catch your breath after all the running as you still hold tightly to his hand.
“I’m just gonna close the door, okay? I’m not leaving,” he says when he notices the way your hand clings to him when he tries to separate, not wanting to let him go. You hesitate, hand trembling as you hold onto his. Everything still feels unreal, like if you let go he’ll vanish from your sight, and you’ll wake up in the same place you were before, with none of this having happened.
You look at his face, taking in his soft but serious expression. You feel the warmth in his hand, see the care in his eyes, and you know– you’re okay now. You don't have to be scared anymore. So you eventually nod as you let go, watching as he closes the bedroom door before returning swiftly to your side.
He examines you carefully, scowling at the disheveled state of your clothes but overall relieved to see no injury. He steps away for just a moment to rifle through his drawers, pulling out a shirt and handing it carefully to you.
“Here, put this on,” he says, and it prompts you to look down at yourself for the first time. The buttons at the top of your blouse are almost entirely undone, with some buttons completely missing and leaving your bra partially exposed.
You frown at the realization that with the buttons missing you won’t be able to button up your blouse again and it’s effectively ruined, but you’re thankful that Chan is offering you something to wear in its place. He turns his back to you to let you change in peace, and he doesn’t turn back around until you’ve made it clear that you’re done.
“Are you okay..?” he asks softly now as he kneels in front you, eyes fixed straight on you. You meet his gaze, lip trembling as you look at him. You feel overwhelmed, confused, relieved.. Where do you even begin? You look down, swallowing the lump in your throat as more emotion threatens to spill out from your eyes.
"I'm sorry," he breaks the silence, and you look up, blinking away the tears in the corners of your eyes. "I– I should've been there for you. I shouldn't have let that happen to you.. I'm sorry," Chan tells you, voice shaky through his apology.
He feels so fucking guilty. He wished so badly he didn't let the voice in his head affect him, that he didn't self-destruct so badly and drag you down with him. "It's okay," you say, reaching your hand out to grab his, and Chan shakes his head, voice breaking as he talks to you.
"It's not okay, I– I broke my promise to you." "You didn't," you say with a small frown and Chan's brows furrow in response. "Yes I did, I–''
You shake your head, cutting him off with your own words, "Do you remember what you told me when we first became friends? When you put your number in my phone?"
Chan swallows as he thinks back to nearly a year ago, when he found you cornered and vulnerable, Jae tormenting you and expecting to get away with it. "I.. told you to call me," he says after a short moment.
"Call me next time, I'll answer. If you call, I'll hear it. I'll come running," you quote him, the words having engraved themselves in your memory. They were probably small to Chan but they meant so much to you. You'd never experienced such kindness before, such an earnest care for your wellbeing, and from someone that was basically a stranger to you.
That was your proof that he was a good person; someone who deserved kindness and appreciation just as much as anyone else. He was kind, caring, and selfless even to a fault. And you knew Chan didn't believe he was, didn't think anything he did was special but it was.
You want to repay all the care he's shown you, in any way you can. "That was your promise," you continue and Chan's breath hitches in his throat at your words, "I called and you came, just like you said you would, so.. You don't have to apologize. Not for that."
He curses, turning his face away from yours with a small chuckle of disbelief. "I should be the one comforting you right now," he says and you smile softly as you respond. "No matter what you might think, I'd never hate you. Never. And I forgive you." You squeeze his hand in reassurance, trying to convey the sincerity of your words.
"I.. don't think I deserve that," he whispers, swallowing as he tries to control the shakiness in his voice. You're forgiving him this easily? He hasn't earned that, doesn’t deserve it.. You should be furious with him, you should hate him. So why don't you? "I can't think of anyone who deserves it more than you, Chan," You say and his lip trembles, eyes squeezing shut as he tries not to embarrass himself by crying in front of you.
He’d grown a thick skin in his life, built his walls sturdy and high– or at least he thought he had. But there you always are, tearing his barriers down so easily, prying open the confines of his heart with the simplest of words and actions. And that's the feeling of love and connection he'd been missing in his life, isn't it? The one he’d be yearning for despite all his doubts and concerns?
All he can think about when he looks at you is how much he hopes you'll always be with him, even if it's just from afar. He wants to protect you, wants to hold you close, wants to laugh with you on good days and support you during the bad.
Even if he never gets the courage to tell you just how much he truly loves you, he'd be happy just being near you. And that’s why he owes it to you to be better, reaffirms his desire, his need, to be honest and open about everything.
“I should.. Be honest with you. About why I was avoiding you,” Chan says after a shaky exhale, and you nod, ready to hear him out. “I was.. Ashamed, when you saw me like that. I never wanted you to see it, you know? I was– I still am, trying to get out of it, and I hoped that when you did know about it, it’d be like.. A thing that happened in my past that you’d never have to worry about. So when you saw it, I just.. I freaked out. I didn’t know what to do, and so I just..”
Oh no. He’s tearing up again, and the empathetic look in your eyes continues to chip at his walls. He almost can't take the way you look at him, the way you hold and squeeze his hand as he speaks, the way your eyes water with his, as if it’s just as emotional for you to experience as it is for him.
It probably is, to be fair; you cared a lot about him, cried a lot because of him, tried countless times to support him even when he was closed off, hesitant and scared to try. He’s still struggling to believe he deserves to receive your compassion and understanding, but he wants to accept it regardless.
He wants to let you care about him, to let you console him, to let you be his comfort, his home. And he’d be that for you, he’d give you back all you gave and more, all to make sure you would never cry because of his actions ever again.
“I just-” Chan tries again, falling short as the words get stuck in his throat. You’re patient though, giving him all the time he needs to collect his thoughts and put the words he wants to say together. “I just.. Everything felt like it was caving in on me."
"When it started I was just a kid desperate for money, you know? No one wants to pay a livable wage to a 16 year old, they think you don’t need it, assume you still got your parents and a cushy bed to go home to. So when the offer came up for me to make some quick, good cash in exchange for a favor, I took it.”
“The favors.. What I’d do depended entirely on the person making the request, but they were never good. Usually it was something the person desperately wanted, but couldn't get their own hands dirty to get, and they look for someone to do it for them under the table. So I got mine dirty in their place, and got paid well doing it. And I truly fucking regret it,” Chan spills it all out for you- the woes of his life, his bad deeds and regrets, all for you to see and judge.
But you don’t judge him; you never would, even if he deserved it. What he said is what you expected– that he wasn’t given a real choice, his circumstances unfair and the world before him too cruel. It hurt your heart to know someone as kind and caring as Chan was forced to do things he hated for money, things that plagued his mind with guilt and tanked his already low self-esteem to new depths.
This wasn’t a case of “ashamed only because he got caught”; his shame and guilt was true, the resentment he felt for himself complexly interwoven with his human nature to survive at all costs. It was a dilemma that no one should have to face, but that he was forced to time and time again. To say it was unfair felt like an understatement, but it was all you had to describe what life had offered him.
And still, you admired him; you hear all the time how the circumstances of one’s life changes them, how good people can only tolerate so much pain before it warps them into someone unrecognizable. But through it all, he was still someone full of compassion, of tenderness, who was doing his best to make amends with himself and make up for what he’s done.
It wasn’t your place to tell anyone to forgive him, nor would you tell anyone affected by his actions that they should. But you hoped that one day Chan could be free of the shackles of that weighed him down, both physically and mentally.
The world doesn’t exist in black and white; good people do bad things, make mistakes, and hurt others, often even without meaning to. What truly makes a person good isn’t whether or not they’ve never hurt someone before– it’s whether or not they’re truly sorry.
No one can exist without making mistakes, without hurting feelings and having theirs hurt in return, the human experience is far too complex and not meant to be perfected. No one is perfect, but imperfection is what allows you to grow.
The things in your life that you regret, that make you feel embarrassed, ashamed, sorry– they make you human. They make you someone worth loving, someone deserving of compassion and empathy.
To be human is to love and forgive, to make mistakes and pick yourself back up and try again to be better, to connect with others and build a life with them that makes you happy and proud to be where you are. And it’s what Chan deserves to have a chance at, just as much as anyone else in the world does.
“You can cry if you need to. I’m here for you, Channie,” you offer, holding your arms out for him to accept a hug if he wants one. It’s a promise, really. A promise that you’ll always be here for him, because he’s the person you love most.
“I might take you up on that,” he says as he accepts your hug, his tone the most light-hearted you’ve heard all evening, but you can tell he’s grateful. He squeezes you close, and you can feel his body start to release all its built up stress as he relaxes against you.
He needed this; needed the reassurance that unconditional love is available to him and obtainable, that happiness was something he was allowed to have, that he wasn’t an irredeemable person doomed to endlessly suffer.
“There’s something else I should tell you,” he says after a few moments, voice soft and a bit timid, his arms still holding you firmly. You hum in acknowledgment, pulling back from his embrace just enough to look at him. “Whenever you’re ready,” you encourage him, and he smiles just a bit before taking a breath to steady himself.
“I love you. And I didn’t want to tell you that until everything was behind me, because I thought you wouldn’t return my feelings if you knew about it. If it was just a part of my past, and not something I was actively involved in anymore, then maybe you could, but– I didn’t think you’d ever love me otherwise, so.. That’s the other reason why I freaked out.. I thought I ruined any chance I had at being with you.”
Oh. Did you hear him right? He loves you? He wanted to be with you? Wants to be with you? Romantically?
“You don’t have to return my feelings, I just.. Wanted you to know, because it played a big part in why I acted like I did to you. You didn’t deserve to be ignored just because I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings, you know?” Chan elaborates, your silence making him increasingly nervous.
God, he hopes you respond soon, even if it's a rejection, because the silence is killing him. “You didn’t ruin your chances,” you finally say, a shy smile on your face that instantly fills Chan with relief. He smiles too, and you settle fully back into his embrace, your head against his chest as your arms hold him close.
You hear the thumping of his heart, the evidence that his feelings for you are indeed real- that he loves you. Maybe this happiness is more than Chan deserves, and maybe you’ll change your mind about him someday, but for now.. He’s happy, and that’s all he could ever ask for.
Chan spent the rest of the evening glued to your side, the two of you only separating from each other if you had to. You canceled your study session with Changbin for the night as well; way too much happened today for you to be able to even remotely focus on school work. He understood completely though, and was more than relieved that you and Chan were talking again.
You had dinner together, all of you, and you finally started to feel like your fractured relationships could be pieced back together. There were still lingering questions, a litany of things to still discuss together, but now that you knew you could, there was a sense of calm you felt; like no matter what happened going forward, everything would be okay because you had each other, and neither of you would let that change again.
Even in a group, your eyes would always unconsciously find their way back to Chan, and he’d smile back at you. Not a big, toothy smile, but a small, soft one– a special one just for you. He loved you, and you felt it; and you knew without a doubt that this is where you belonged. In their group, among the kindest people you’d ever met, with Chan by your side.
When night settled in, he did everything possible to ensure you were comfortable, such as offering you another change of clothes if you wanted it, or to take you home if you’d prefer that. But honestly, you wanted to stay with Chan as long as possible, not just because of your desire to stay at his side, but because of how safe being with him always made you feel.
You always felt secure in his presence, like any problem you had just melted away when he was hugging you or holding your hand. And despite the good turn the day had taken, you could definitely still use his comfort. “Wait,” you called to him when he was going to turn to leave, his plan the same as the other times you stayed the night; he’d be on the couch, while you took the comfort of his bed.
“Did I forget something you need?” Chan asked, quickly surveying the bed; you had plenty of pillows, and you weren’t too in need of blankets given that it was approaching summer now, but he wouldn’t put it outside the realm of possibility to forget something you needed.
“No, it’s not that,” you say, and you can see the gears turning in his head, mild confusion mixed with concern appearing on his features. “What’s wrong then?” he asks carefully, stepping away from the door and back to you.
“I.. want you to stay. Here, with me,” you mutter, shyly looking down at your lap and his face flushes as he tries to blink away the initial shock. “Like.. until you fall asleep, or..?”
“N-No,” you look at him, a bit hesitant to meet his gaze due to your nervousness but doing it anyway, “like.. Sleep with me..?” Fuck. He knows you don’t mean it like that but what the hell, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.
“Are you sure? You won’t be uncomfortable?” Another careful step closer, watching you closely for any sign of hesitation, wanting to make 100% sure that you really want him next to you all night. You nod, scooting to make space for him so he knows you mean it.
He swallows before he crawls in next to you, doing his best to settle in comfortably despite the way his body tenses from laying so close to you. What makes it even worse is that instead of laying with your back facing him like he expected, you’re turned towards him, looking straight at him. He’s never been this close to your face before, and he feels like his heart is going to erupt.
“Don’t need Wolf Chan?” he asks after you’re settled, noting the fact that you don’t have him in your arms as you normally did when you spent the night. “Not when I have you,” you reply, and thank God he turned off the lights before he got into bed with you, because you definitely would’ve seen the blush on his face burn tenfold.
“Chan..” you breathe out, your voice slightly hesitant and tense, and though the room is dark, his eyes have adjusted enough to see you looking at him nervously. “Yeah..?” he asks softly, and carefully you reach out to him, your hand lingering on his arm.
“I want you to promise.. That you’ll keep trying to get away from the people who have you do bad things, and that you won’t do them anymore once you’re out,” you say, eyes still nervous and desperate to find reassurance. That’s exactly what he planned to keep doing anyway, but hearing you say it just reaffirms his choice– he’ll get out of it no matter what, for your sake.
“I promise. You’ll be the first to know too, I promise,” he affirms, and you finally smile, fully believing in him. “I’ll make a promise too! That once everything is settled, I’ll officially be your girlfriend.” Chan chuckles at your statement, pulling you into a hug as he does.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he tells you, smiling at you fondly as he pulls you in closer. “If it’s okay.. Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, and you nod, heart racing in anticipation.
Your first kiss- soft and sweet, his touch light and gentle, your stomach erupting in butterflies. Again, again, and once more, both smiling when you pull back. You’ve never felt so warm, pure elation in your veins as he holds you close.
“I love you,” you tell him as you settle your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and basking in the joy and comfort you feel. “Love you more,” he says, landing a soft kiss on the top of your head, “Goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams.”
Was it okay for Chan to be this happy? Was it okay to have the things he dreamed of? Regardless of the answer, he was thankful. There were few things in this world that Chan allowed himself to crave selfishly, you being the most primary desire of them all.
Did he deserve you? Maybe not now, but he would someday soon– he’d make sure of that. He’d keep his promises, make sure he became someone worth being around for, someone that you could be proud to say is the person you love.
6 months since the day Chan told you he loved you and made you his girlfriend. Well, maybe not officially one might argue, since he still had a myriad of promises to uphold before then, but as far as Chan is concerned, it counts!
And to the credit of his point, you still acted like a couple most of the time, all sweet touches and bashful glances whenever he was near you. Neither of you could help it, really; how do you resist in that scenario? All he ever wanted to do was shower you with affection any chance he got, and why would you deny the opportunity to experience it?
Chan’s duality also extended towards your romantic relationship, in ways that endlessly endeared and fascinated you. He adapted to the boyfriend role well all things considered, or maybe his kind hearted and compassionate nature made him naturally good at caring for you.
He was extremely open with his love for you, full of soft touches and charming words. That was always in private however; when around his friends he was much less.. Sauve, you could say. He was shy, simply put; his face and ears burning red whenever you kissed him for all to see, bashful giggles leaving his lips whenever you complimented him or told him you loved him so, so much.
You always loved seeing his cute dimples show up whenever he was happy, and knowing you were the person making it happen filled you with more joy than you could express in words. But the biggest display of his duality would always come when he felt the need to protect you– all his shyness would melt away, his desire to keep you safe and close much stronger than anything else.
Whether it was holding your hand as you walked through crowds of people, directing you away from the edge of the sidewalk when you walked together, or kept an arm snuggly around you when belligerent, overconfident men approached you at a party– he was your protector above all else, and he made that clear to everyone.
He was perfect in every way, at least to you. It’s not to say that he was suddenly without fault, and he certainly wasn’t absolved of all the wrong he’d committed in his past, but his growth and earnest effort didn’t deserve to go unrecognized.
He was the sweetest, kindest person you’d ever known, and every day he showed his resilience and determination to make a better name for himself. That alone made him perfect to you.
Chan worked hard to get away from what kept him connected to the dark underside of the city, and it didn’t come without its sacrifices, but he did his best to make it work and come out of it all ready to wash his hands clean of the past.
He made substantially less money now, but it was a fair exchange when you consider that the money he made going forward was through honest means. He agreed to share the burden as well, to accept help and not take on so much responsibility all on his own.
He was used to taking the brunt of everything, shouldering it all for the sake of everyone else around him. He thought that's what made him useful, what made others want to be around him– what use did he have as a person if he wasn’t providing something for them? Chan was a pillar; one who didn’t want to acknowledge that his foundation was inherently broken, and not built on solid enough ground.
Slowly but surely however, he began to see his worth beyond the material, and stopped seeing his friendships as ones that could easily be stripped away from him by superficial means. It’s not that he thought the people in his life were shallow either, it’s just..
When your self-esteem is so low, and all you’ve ever known is pain and sadness, where the people that were supposed to care for you were either gone or didn’t give a shit, it’s hard to see yourself in the same lens that the people who love you do.
It’s nearly impossible to shake doubt once it has its grip on you, hard to convince yourself people mean it when they say they care when you’ve only ever experienced the opposite. You can’t explain what it’s like to have a brain at war with itself, and he imagines that the only ones who would ever truly understand are the people like him, who have experienced it for themselves and truly know what it means to be lonely.
But he had come to realize that he wasn’t as alone as he felt; he had countless good people in his life, and all he had to do was open the door and let them in. It wasn’t easy to unlearn all the things Chan had told himself over the years, and there were still many days where he struggled with his self-worth and having compassion for himself, but the people he loved made it worth trying his hardest.
And you, the person Chan loved most of all, was the catalyst for the change he needed. You pushed him in the right direction, opened his eyes to all the feelings and wants he tried to push away and made him face them head on. He was endlessly grateful to you, and he wanted to show you just how much; which is why now, on your 6 month anniversary (which was actually more like 3, officially speaking), he wanted to do something special.
But what should he get you? What would be good enough? He knew you’d appreciate the sentiment of his gift more than the price tag of it, but he still felt stuck when considering what would be best for you. He could take you out on a date, but what he really wants is the chance to be alone with you. As much as he loves his brothers, and loves that you’re all friends and get along well, if they interrupt or crash his alone time with you one more time he might burst a blood vessel.
Theoretically he could do some research and find somewhere for the two of you to be one on one, but his career change didn’t leave him with much of a travel fund (or a gift fund, for that matter.) He could always ask the guys to make themselves vacant for a night, or to just please let him have some alone time with his girlfriend, but God, he could already picture how they’d tease him for asking. Or worse, ask him what his intentions are and make him embarrassed in the process.
In the end however, Chan swallowed his pride, and asked his brothers kindly but firmly to let him have the house to himself so he could spend his anniversary alone with you. He did get some teasing and embarrassing questions, but overall not as bad as what he anticipated, thankfully.
Did he want to have sex with you? Yes, obviously. Was that the reason he was doing this? Absolutely not. That’s not to say he wouldn’t welcome it if it happened of course, but it was in no way his sole motivation.
He hadn’t done that with you yet, and though he wanted to, he was in no way going to rush you into it. Sure, it drove him a little crazy every time you stayed the night and he had you pressed up against him, but he was a gentleman above all else. He had self control.
What he didn’t know though, is that you were also being driven a little crazy by him. The first time he called you “baby”, your stomach did full on somersaults, and if he called you that before he kissed you? Your heart went absolutely crazy!
Then, the first time he removed his shirt to sleep you nearly had a heart attack. He was so toned, and well, you figured he was from how strong he appeared to be, but actually seeing it with your own eyes made your heart race unbelievably fast.
And then, one night when you were lying in his bed together, your back pressed against him as you watched a movie on his laptop, and he leaned forward to kiss you, but the kiss landed on your neck– oh, it was over for you.
You bit your lip to stop yourself from making an embarrassing sound, face flushing and growing hot. And lately, you came to realize more and more how bad you wanted Chan more intimately. Every time his hand lingered on your waist, every time you felt his body pressed to yours when you hugged, every time you were laying together and he had his arm wrapped around you– you wanted him.
But how do you go about admitting that? You’d never done this sort of thing before, nor had you been faced with such a strong desire to be intimate with someone before being with Chan.
But now, that it was your 6-more-like-3 month anniversary, you thought maybe now might be the right time to talk about it. It might be difficult to do so without getting shy or embarrassed but you definitely wanted to, and to find out if he ever thought about you in the same way.
Much to Chan’s delight and relief, you didn’t seem at all upset that his plans with you involved having a date at home. His gift to you was a cute, new wolf plush; and while it was certainly was no Wolf Chan, he hoped would comfort you when you weren’t with him. You loved it, instantly hugging him and promising that you’d sleep with Wolf Chan Jr. (as you promptly named it) every night that you weren’t with Chan.
He put on a movie that you’d once said was a favorite of yours but that he had never seen, and it warmed your heart that he remembered and wanted to watch it with you. He ordered your favorite take out meal, spent the entire evening cuddled close to you and sweetly reminding you how much he loved you.
When night settled in and you began to grow tired, you changed into your pajamas separately before you went to his room. And still, the question was weighing on you– does he want you? Will you be able to tell him that you'd been giving having sex with him a lot of thought?
And then you walked into the room after finishing changing, and saw that he planned on only sleeping in some sweatpants, you internally lost your mind. No way would you be able to sleep if he was next to you looking that good and while your mind was plagued with less than innocent thoughts.
So when the lights were off, and you were laid next to him, you conjured all your bravery to speak your mind. “Chan.. can I ask you something?” He sat up a bit upon hearing you, finding your eyes in the darkness to give you his full attention.
“Of course, what is it?” He asks and you swallow, taking a moment to steady your voice before you come right out with it. “Do you ever.. think about having sex with me?” Holy fuck. That is the last thing he was expecting to hear.
“W-What? I-I– well–” he sputters nervously, his face growing hot within seconds. “I-I just.. I have so.. I thought I’d ask..?” you mutter shyly, hoping you won’t be faced with a mortifying rejection.
Oh no. That admission makes his brain short circuit for a moment, mind reeling as he processes what you’ve just said. You’ve thought about it? With him? You want to… with him?
“O-Of course I have, I just didn’t know if you wanted to, a-and I didn’t want you to feel pressured if I instigated so..” he trails off, hoping that he didn’t unintentionally make you feel undesired by holding off on touching you more intimately.
Relief rushes through you, happy to be reminded what a gentleman your boyfriend is and to know that he wants you too. “I-In that case.. do you want to tonight?” you ask, and you feel him suck in a breath before he answers.
“I– y-yeah, I want to,” he says, shy but honest as he seeks out your hand, “as long as you’re sure you’re ready.”
“I’m sure, I really want to,” you tell him, squeezing his hand and offering him a smile. Chan gets up from the bed to turn on some dim mood lighting, because he definitely doesn’t want his first time with you to be in complete darkness– he needs to see you.
You sit up, watching him in nervous excitement before he sits next to you. “I’ll– I’ll take care of you so.. Just let me know if I’m going too fast or you need to stop, okay?” he asks and you assure him that the minute you feel even slightly uncomfortable, you’ll let him know.
He smiles, a shy and cute one, guiding you to turn so both of your bodies are facing each other before he lets you know, “I’m going to kiss you now.” His hand rests just below your ear, fingers on your neck and his thumb tracing circles on your cheek as he leans in to kiss you.
The kiss is slow– much slower than all the others you’ve shared with him until now. It’s sensual, each kiss soft and languid, pulling away for only a second before he connects his lips with yours again. You can feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach as he deepens the kiss, his other hand carefully landing on your waist.
Your hands sit awkwardly in your lap at first, not quite sure what you should do with them and what’s okay. But to your surprise, the more Chan kisses you, the more you find yourself naturally following his lead, as if this isn’t something entirely new to you. He tilts you back, carefully guiding your back to the bed, his body finding its place between your legs.
You bring your arms around his neck, urging him to press his body closer to yours and leave no free space between you. You want him as close as possible, to feel his weight on you, to be enveloped by him and feel him all over.
You’re so responsive to his touch that it drives Chan crazy with want; the way your body shivers when he runs his hand down your waist to your hip, the way goosebumps rises on your skin when his fingers linger near your waistband, the way your mouth opens for him when he licks your bottom lip– he loves it all.
A soft sound escapes your throat when he lets his tongue in your mouth, your arms moving from around his neck to let your hands explore his body, running down his chest and feeling his abs under your fingertips.
Feeling his tongue circle around yours, his breath being shared with you and yours with him, it’s enough to make you dizzy already. You’ve never felt a desire like this before, this overwhelming want to have his hands explore every inch of your skin.
When he pulls away from the kiss, wow, he’s breathless just from the sight of you. Your lips red and glossy, your eyes hazy with need, your hair having fallen around you like a halo; his angel– you’re forever his angel.
Chan caresses your lip with his thumb, wanting to stare at you for just a moment longer before he diverts his attention elsewhere. He smiles when you kiss his thumb, finding the action cute (and hot if he’s being honest, but he’ll explore that thought later.)
He lowers his head back down to you, giving you one more kiss before he leans towards your neck, kissing just under your ear before trailing hot, open mouthed kisses slowly down the expanse of your jaw and to your neck.
Some of them tickle, making you giggle softly in response, but he knows he’s found the right spot when instead of giggling, you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him to have more access to your sweet spot.
You can feel him smile against your skin before he resumes his wet kisses and licks, latching his mouth to the spot that makes you react the most and sucking gently. The noises that leave you are intoxicating and addictive, soft breathy little moans that almost get completely drowned out by the sound his kisses leave on your dampening skin.
His hands travel to the hem of your shirt, and he separates from your neck, looking at you for any sign that you want him to stop before he begins to pull it up. You look shy, maybe a little nervous, but not at all hesitant or scared of his touch. You welcome it, letting him strip you of your top and toss it to the floor.
You’re not wearing a bra, you never do when you go to bed, and while Chan suspected that to be the case, he never asked or commented on it, because admitting that he noticed a difference would also mean admitting that he’d look at your chest. But now, he'll be able to do so freely, to stare at you openly (and hopefully not be too embarrassed about it.)
The way he stares in awe of you makes you blush, and when he calls you beautiful on top of it, you almost want to cover your face from how shy you feel. He can’t compliment you while you’re exposed to him like this, you don’t think your heart can take it. Your reaction makes him smile, but he hopes you know that he means it; Chan isn’t saying you're beautiful just to say it, you truly are– the most beautiful person he’s ever met, both body and soul.
“Is this okay?” he asks, hands lingering patiently near your breasts, not wanting to touch them until you give him clearly spoken permission. You nod, but he still hesitates until you say it, which you simultaneously appreciate but feel extremely embarrassed from. Chan rewards you with a kiss, another long one meant to ease away the embarrassment and put your focus entirely on enjoying the moment.
Your breath hitches when he finally touches your breasts, your body quivering when his calloused thumbs brush over your nipples. He lingers on every kiss so sweetly, every touch of your body slow and careful, not just for your comfort but also to commit it to memory, to ensure that he always remembers what his first time with you was like. He kisses down your neck again, and you watch with bated breath as he draws closer to your chest.
Chan takes his time fondling your breasts as he covers them in kisses, squeezing gently and listening intently to all the sounds he draws from you. He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and spending some time softly sucking before giving the other an equal amount of attention.
The more attention he showers your breasts with, the wetter you become, your panties becoming increasingly drenched with your arousal. If he wasn’t between your legs, you’d be pressing them together in a desperate attempt to gain some relief, your pussy aching to be touched but at the same time wanting to let Chan take his time making you feel good.
He doesn’t separate from your chest until he’s satisfied, starting to trail kisses down your stomach, stopping to look up at you once he’s at the waistband of your shorts. “Still okay?” he asks and you nod (perhaps a bit too eagerly), lifting your hips up so he can easily pull your clothes down your legs.
He hooks his fingers into your shorts and panties, hands slightly trembling as he pulls them down your thighs and then off your legs, discarding them off to the floor with your top. Now that he sees you fully exposed to him, Chan feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest, his cock unceremoniously twitching as he stares at your body.
You can see how hard it’s grown from beneath his sweatpants, and God, you can already tell it’s big. You sit up, this time being the one to initiate a kiss as you tug at Chan’s sweatpants, not so subtly asking him to help you take them off.
It’s his turn to feel shy, face starting to burn to the tips of his ears as he separates from you to remove them more easily. The way you attentively watch him certainly doesn’t help, nor the way you overtly stare at his cock when it’s freed from his clothing.
You look back to his face, and though he’s feeling shy, he offers you a smile, one that you return just as timidly. Another kiss before you lay back again, your heart racing as you watch him resume his earlier path, placing kisses to the soft expanse of your skin. From your cute tummy down to your thighs, it’s driving you crazy how close his face has gotten to your core without having given it any attention yet.
He carefully spreads your legs further apart, swallowing when your pussy comes entirely into his view. So cute and dripping wet, all for him, because of him– God, you’re perfect. As he’s done with every inch of your body up to this point, his first course of action is to kiss. Your hips jolt when he kisses your clit, and when he flattens his tongue and licks, oh, you’re in heaven.
You’ve never felt anything as good as this, your entire body shuddering as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. The slow pace he starts with drives you wild, taking his time familiarizing himself with the way you taste, the motions you like, and indulging in the pretty sound of your whimpers and moans.
Chan picks up the pace when he finds what you like, alternating from pushing his tongue as deep into your hole as it can go and then back to your clit. He uses his hands to keep your legs spread, can feel the way they tremble and twitch as your orgasm grows closer.
Your hands clutch at his bedsheet, desperate mewls growing in volume as the knot in your stomach builds. He directs all of his attention to your clit, keeping his pace steady as he squeezes your thighs in his hands, his eyes closed as he focuses entirely on getting you to cum all over his tongue.
He can’t help but groan when your hands move to his head, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just enough to cause a slight sting. “C-Close, so close-” you warn and he hums, ready and eager to taste your release.
You cum with a choked cry, your entire body trembling as the blinding white pleasure courses through your veins. Your heart pounds, chest heaving as you try to collect your breath, mind hazy from your post-orgasm bliss.
You don’t even register that Chan has moved from his spot between your legs until he kisses you, tasting yourself on his tongue bringing you back to reality. Seeing you like this not only fills Chan with an insane amount of want, but also with pride, knowing that he’s the reason you’re in this state.
“Baby,” he calls to you, urging you to look at him. His face flushes when you do, cause fuck, you’re so pretty like this, but no use getting shy again now. “I– I want to get you ready to take me, i-is that okay?” Chan hates that he stutters a bit while asking, but he can’t help it when he’s this worked up and you’re laying there looking pretty beyond words.
“Y-Yeah, please,” you practically beg, and fuck, he’s weak for that. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to resist giving you whatever you want if you make begging like that a habit of yours. He carefully moves from between your legs to be next to you, kissing you sweetly as he rubs his fingers between your folds.
You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and leaking, his pre-cum smearing on the skin it touches. “C-Channie–” you call and he immediately comes to stop, looking at you in concern. “What’s wrong, angel? Change your mind?” he asks, brows furrowing in worry.
You quickly shake your head, trying to dispel any concern before you speak up again, “I want- Can I touch you too?” You can feel his cock twitch from your question, his face flaring and ears burning.
“Y-Yeah, of course,” he says, adjusting his position enough for his cock to be within reach of your hand. He can’t help but shudder and gasp when you bring your fingers to his flushed tip, coating your fingers in pre-cum and spreading it down the length of his shaft.
Your hand is so much softer than his, so warm, and fingers barely able to wrap fully around due to how thick he is. He can’t help but get lost in watching for a moment, eyes transfixed on the way your hand slowly moves up and down. You look at Chan, watching the way his expression changes as he bites his lip– how does he look so gorgeous and sexy at once?
Regaining his focus, he prods at your hole with his fingers before he slips the middle one inside. God, you’re so warm and wet and tight, that the thought alone of being inside you is enough to make Chan want to cum. He can’t wait to fuck you, to feel you squeezing him, and to find out what noises you’ll make when his cock is touching the deepest parts of you.
But first, he needs to prep you well– so he starts by moving his finger in and out slowly and carefully until he’s sure you can take another. You whimper when he adds a second finger, your motions on his cock stopping for just a moment as you adjust to the new sensation you’re feeling. His fingers are much longer and thicker than your own, and it sends ripples of pleasure throughout your body with every move they make.
You match the pace of your hand with that of his fingers, mirroring the slow movements, but adding pressure by squeezing your hand around him. When he picks up his pace, you do as well, and your stomach flips when he curses under his breath and groans.
You’re mesmerized when his head falls back for a moment, his breathing becoming heavier and his stomach and thighs flexing from the pleasure he feels. But when his fingers curl, your concentration breaks, the spot he touches making you see stars as loud a moan falls from your lips.
It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, head falling back against the pillows and your eyes rolling back as he prods it over and over again. Your pace on his cock loses its rhythm, trying your best to keep steady through the immense pleasure you feel but failing at the task miserably.
Chan doesn’t mind in the slightest– in fact, he welcomes it, because he doesn’t want to cum before he's had the chance to be inside you. He brings his thumb to your clit, applying pressure as he draws circles over it, and that’s enough to make you entirely crumble. “Oh my god–” you gasp, your hand falling away from his cock as you succumb to what he gives you.
You’re cumming before you can even really process it, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body trembles. He doesn’t stop until he’s sure you’ve come down from the high, carefully sliding his fingers out of you and licking them clean.
Your eyes are closed, breath shaky as your heart pounds, and you feel so good. Chan carefully pushes the hair stuck on your face with sweat away, and you smile at him when you open your eyes. “Felt good, huh?” he asks with a shy smile of his own, “Do you still want to keep going? Not too tired?”
“Wanna keep going, wanna feel you inside me,” you answer, and you can feel him twitch against your thigh again, evidently excited by your words. He stands from the bed to rifle through his nightstand, pulling a condom from the drawer as you settle comfortably in the middle of the bed.
Chan takes his place between your legs, and you watch as he opens the package and rolls the condom on with no trouble (despite how much his hands are trembling from the anticipation.) He takes his cock in his hand, lining himself up with your entrance and then looking back to your face.
“You’re still sure?” he asks, and you nod without hesitation. “Mhm, I love you so much Channie, wanna do this with you and only you,” you assure him, and wow, does that make him positively melt.
“Such an angel,” he tells you before he kisses you, happy beyond words, “my angel.” He slides inside with relative ease given how slick you are, the only resistance he meets being from how tight you still are even after having gotten his fingers.
He watches you the entire time, stopping when he notices you wince, and only resuming his slow push when your body starts to release its tension. Chan kisses you, holds your hand and lets you squeeze as hard you need, not moving a single inch until you’re ready for it. To your surprise, it doesn’t take all that long for you to adjust to the stretch, and soon enough you find yourself eager for stimulation.
You don’t verbally say it, but Chan can tell you’re ready by the pleasured whimper that pours into your kiss when you feel him twitch inside, and how you unconsciously move your hips to try and seek the friction you crave. He starts slow, for his sake as much as yours, because he’ll cum much sooner than he wishes to otherwise.
He’s still kissing you, swallowing your soft moans and letting you consume his low groans. It takes him a moment to find your spot with just his cock, but he can tell he’s got it when you loudly gasp and clench tightly around him.
He moves his hands to your hips and then to your legs, holding them in his hands and using them for leverage when he starts to pick up his pace. Your hands are on his face, holding him close as you continue to kiss and muffle each other’s noises that are beginning to grow in volume. You’re glad Chan asked the guys to leave for the night, because with how good it feels you couldn’t possibly keep your voice down, even if you wanted to.
“Fuck, baby, feel so good, ‘m gonna cum,” Chan tells you between breathy groans and your stomach flips, eager to find out what he looks and sounds like when he’s cumming inside you. He brings two fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick circles to ensure you cum again too and that he doesn’t leave you wanting. You whine, sensitive from all the attention you’ve received but still feeling way too good to ask him to stop.
“Cum again for me, please angel, need you to so bad, please-” Oh, that really does it for you. You cum hard, making a mess of his fingers as you do, clutching tightly to his arms as your head falls back. Chan’s high follows close behind, his thrusts turning sloppy as he chases it, his cum spurting into the condom in quick bursts.
The two of you stay like that for a time, breathing heavily as you come down from your highs together. Chan pulls out slowly once he’s caught his breath, quickly removing the condom and tying it off, disposing of it in the trash can at the foot of his bed before he lays down next to you.
You immediately turn towards him, wrapping your arm around him and pulling him into a hug. “We should get cleaned up but.. Wanna cuddle first,” you say and Chan smiles, always finding it so cute when you’re clingy towards him, and even more so now after an intimate moment.
He rubs soothing circles on your back and kisses the top of your head, watching you fondly as you yawn and snuggle as close to him as you can. “Baby, you’re gonna fall asleep if we stay like this too long. Let’s get you cleaned up before you get too cozy, yeah?” Chan reasons and you pout, knowing he’s right but not wanting to leave the comfortable, blissful place you’re in. He chuckles when you look at him with that pout, so adorable and cute in his eyes.
“C’mon, won’t take long. And we’ll go straight to bed as soon as we’re done, promise,” he tries again and you reluctantly agree, begrudgingly tearing yourself away from your boyfriend's warm embrace.
Your legs are a bit wobbly, so Chan helps you stabilize yourself, walks you to the bathroom and helps you in the shower. He takes his time to dry you off well and get you dressed in fresh clothes, and helps you back into bed.
You yawn and snuggle into Chan as soon he’s settled next to you, eyes heavy and body beyond exhausted. You’re a little sore, but so happy, and Chan took such good care of you that you feel relaxed despite the aches.
He holds you close, whispering a soft ‘I love you’, smiling when you sleepily mumble it back. He’s so lucky to have you, so blessed to have you here in his arms, loving him in both his good moments and his bad, never giving up on him even when you likely should have.
You saw how flawed of a person he was and loved him regardless, knew of his mistakes and regrets and supported him anyway, encouraging him every step of the way on his road to change. There were so many times he felt he didn’t deserve the love and compassion he received, so many times he felt worthless and miserable, and you graciously helped him to see that he was a person worth more than he gave himself credit for.
It was still hard at times to have love and compassion for himself, to extend himself the care he freely offered to others, to believe it’s what he deserved, but he’d never stop trying. Until the day came where he could confidently say he loves himself, that he believes in his heart that he’s not someone worthless, he’ll keep trying.
And you’ll be there, holding his hand, giving him the safe space he needs to cry and to feel, your unconditional love giving him the reassurance and hope he needs to live a life he can be proud of– a life he promises to always share with you.
IN BLOOM | jisung
first date series. second chance lovers.
pairing: jisung x fem!reader
word count: 13.2k
genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader
warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!)
summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.
a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3
also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!
“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.
“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”
Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”
He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.
“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.
He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.
“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”
You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”
Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.
It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.
That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.
“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”
You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.
“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”
“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.
February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.
There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.
Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.
Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.
“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.
If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.
But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.
By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.
“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”
You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.
Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.
“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”
You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.
“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.
You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”
You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”
He shifts on his feet, still unsure.
“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”
Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”
When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.
Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.
“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.
Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.
“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”
He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.
“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”
You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”
“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”
“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”
He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.
It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.
When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.
“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”
You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”
And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.
“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.
There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.
In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.
“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”
“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.
Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.
Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.
“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”
She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.
“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”
You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.
I’m sorry for your loss.
Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.
She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.
Oh, what a lie forever is.
The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.
Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.
The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.
Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.
“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”
You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.
“Don’t give me that look.”
She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.
“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.
You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.
Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.
The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.
“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.
In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.
“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.
Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.
You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.
One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.
“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”
There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.
You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.
Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”
You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.
Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.
Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.
Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.
A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.
“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.
Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.
You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.
“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.
Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”
“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”
Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.
There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.
His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.
But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.
“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.
“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”
He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.
It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.
And in Jeju– it rains.
There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.
Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.
Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.
Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.
That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.
Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.
The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.
Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.
Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.
Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.
Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.
“You could come with me, you know.”
Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.
The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.
“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”
“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”
Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”
When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.
“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”
Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.
You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.
“I love you too,” you whispered back.
Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.
“But I can’t.” you choked.
Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.
It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.
And in Jeju– it rained.
“I think you should talk to him.”
The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.
“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.
“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”
Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.
Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.
Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.
“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”
“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.
Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”
“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.
“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”
“Four.” you correct.
“God, even worse.” he grimaces.
“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.
You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”
You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.
The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.
“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.
“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”
You shrug. “No, not really.”
There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.
“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”
“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”
“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.
He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.
“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”
Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.
“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”
Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.
“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”
Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”
Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.
“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”
“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.
He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.
Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.
“Can you be honest with me?”
You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.
“Do you love him?”
It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.
Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.
“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”
The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.
The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.
“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”
Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.
“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.
“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”
He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.
“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.
“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”
When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.
Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.
If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.
“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”
It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.
Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.
“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”
Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.
The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.
Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.
Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.
Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.
You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.
Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.
He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.
“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.
You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”
His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.
“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.
You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.
You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.
“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”
Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.
“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”
You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.
“I’m sorry that–”
“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.
“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”
“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”
The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.
“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”
What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.
He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.
Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.
Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.
“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”
The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.
“I waited four years for you.” you say.
“I know.”
“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”
“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”
“You lied to me.”
Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.
“I know.”
“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”
When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.
You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.
“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”
Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.
You’re only human, after all.
Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.
The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.
“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.
“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.
“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”
His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.
“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”
Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.
“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”
“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”
Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.
“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”
Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.
The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.
“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”
He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”
“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.
Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”
“I mean, it was yours.”
“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”
You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.
You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”
He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”
Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.
He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.
He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.
His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.
Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.
Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.
But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.
He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.
“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”
You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.
“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.
So, naturally, you do it for him.
“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”
He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.
“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”
The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.
Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.
“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.
“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”
You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”
Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.
“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”
“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”
He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.
“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”
You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.
“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”
The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.
Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.
“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”
He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.
“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”
“No, you don’t.”
Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”
You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”
By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.
The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.
“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”
You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”
“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”
“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”
“I was being nice!”
“Uh huh.”
“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.
“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”
“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”
“No there isn’t!”
He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.
It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.
Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.
Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.
“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.
Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.
It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.
“Ready?” you ask.
He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.
Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.
You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.
The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.
Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:
It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.
So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.
The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.
And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.
You. Him. This.
“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”
You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.
“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”
“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”
Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.
You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.
“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.
“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.
“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.
Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”
“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.
Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.
He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.
The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.
When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..
You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.
“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.
“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.
“Since when did you get good at this?”
You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”
“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.
“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”
“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.
Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.
It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.
Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.
“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.
“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”
“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.
“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”
“Thought so.”
“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”
“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.
Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.
“I didn’t–”
“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’
He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.
“And the fact that you suck.”
The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.
“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”
He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.
The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.
The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.
When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”
“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”
The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.
“Play something good, Jisungie.”
He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.
“You got it.”
In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.
An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.
Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.
After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.
Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.
When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.
“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.
Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”
“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.
You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.
“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”
He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”
“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”
Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.
With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.
“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.
Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.
It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.
“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”
The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.
The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.
A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.
It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.
“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”
You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.
“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.
“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.
The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.
It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.
Things are different now.
“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”
You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.
Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.
“Hi.” you whisper against him.
One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.
He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.
“Hi.” he whispers back.
The apple tree is much bigger now.
Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.
It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.
It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.
But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.
It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.
“Ji.”
“Hm?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.
“Of course.”
“Am I ever gonna see you again?”
He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”
“You said that last time.”
“I know.”
“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.
When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.
He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.
It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.
“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”
You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.
It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.
You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.
“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”
You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.
“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”
“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.
There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.
Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”
“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”
“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”
“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”
“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”
“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”
He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.
Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.
“Did you ever even love me?”
The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.
“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”
“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.
“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”
“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”
“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”
Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”
You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.
“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.
Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.
“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”
Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.
When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.
“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”
He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.
“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”
Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.
“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”
His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.
When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.
Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.
Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“I love you.” you say first this time.
He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.
“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”
Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.
There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.
“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”
The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.
He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.
When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.
You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.
“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.
“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”
“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”
“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”
“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.
You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”
“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.
“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.
“Come on. We have to go.”
“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”
He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”
“What is that?”
“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”
Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.
“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”
“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.
“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.
“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.
“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”
He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.
“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.
You nod, slowly.
“Do you love him?”
Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.
“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”
Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”
The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.
“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.
Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.
“I’ll send them to you.”
“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”
“I’ll manage.”
You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.
“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.
Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”
The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.
“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.
Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.
“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”
You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.
“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.
“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.
“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.
He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.
“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”
“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.
“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”
He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.
With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”
Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.
“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”
The airport is crowded.
There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.
Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.
It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.
It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.
You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.
Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.
Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”
Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.
“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.
You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.
Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”
The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”
He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”
You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”
Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.
“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.
You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.
And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.
Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.
Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:
It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.
And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.
Beautiful Person Award. Once you are given this award, you're supposed to paste it in the ask of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out!💖
