pairing: jongin x reader.
genre: angst.
description: you’ve been his best friend for years. you’ve always yearned to be something more, but he’ll never see you that way.
word count: tba.
inspiration: waterparks, i’ll always be around.
you had been there for jongin when he was pursuing krystal. you had been his wingman, taught him how to win over a hard-to-get girl — silently, you had wished that he would use the tactics on you, instead, but he never did. then again, were you really hard to get? if he would’ve just thrown you a goddamn bone, you would’ve fetched it within a split second. he’d always missed your casual hints, though, always ignored the glimmer in your eyes and the way your hand rested on his shoulder a little too long. “so, what do i do if she, like. . . sneers at me or something?” he’d asked, and you had let your hand fall from his shoulder. you wondered if he saw the way that your smile fell, but if he did, he never mentioned it.
you had been there for jongin when it all fell to pieces. you had been the shoulder that he had cried on, soaking your best shirts through with tears that he would never let anyone else see. oh, how painful it had been to see him cry. . . but in a twisted way, you’d been happy that he came to you. it made you feel special, knowing that you were the one who he told everything to. expressed his sadness to. maybe you had even thought that there was a bit of hope for you. after all, you were always there for him. one day he’d have to notice, right?
wrong.
there were countless flings that followed, desperate attempts to get over krystal — you acted like you didn’t know that he was still pining for her and he acted like he’d gotten over her long ago. you let him pretend because you figured that if he told himself he was over her enough, maybe he’d really move on.
it seemed like every night, he was calling you with details of blind dates gone awry, sloppy kisses, lack of chemistry and the occasional i think she’s the one just for him to call a week later with a brand-new breakup, a split-second lover to mourn the loss of. it’s crazy that you managed to mask your feelings throughout it all, but you always persevered, even with the heavy weight on your heart. the last thing that you needed was to add to his stress, anyway. . .
and then came jennie. at first, you expected her to be just another fling. . . then again, her similarities to krystal were strikingly obvious. she was high-end, a princess in the modern day. she always looked mad, irritated, jealous. except for when she smiled; when she was happy, oh god, she looked like a work of art belonging in the louvre. just like krystal. and before you knew what was happening, he was running away on a rendezvous to paris with her. “that should be me,” you thought blindly, scoffing at pictures he sent you during his journey, although you always replied with admiration and praise for his newfound love.
it was short-lived, though, and you became the shoulder to cry on once more.
now, here you are, walking down an empty street in the middle of the night with your long-term best friend by your side. “i’m sorry that things didn’t work out. you seemed really happy with her,” you state, as much as the words hurt you. all he does is sigh, and then silence resumes. “i hope that you can learn to be happy on your own, though. you’re a pretty cool person, y’know? i wish you could see that.” you nudge his side with your elbow and look over at him, only to see that he’s smiling at you.
“i’ll try. thanks for always being here for me. i don’t know what i’d do without such a great friend.” and without even knowing it, kim jongin breaks your heart for the hundredth time.
pairing: kim chungha x reader.
genre: fluff.
description: on a roadtrip with your best friend, you come to a startling realization of how deep your love for her truly runs.
word count: 843.
inspiration: dodie clark, she.
it begins with her in the passenger seat of your car, singing along to the radio. it’s not like you’ve never heard her sing before — by now, it’s a staple of your friendship, but it sounds different with the windows rolled down and the summer wind blowing through your hair. it sounds different when you’re rolling through the desert to no certain destination, no sound other than the blaring radio and her voice beside you. “you have a beautiful voice,” you tell her in between songs, but she just laughs and shakes her head. it’s the modesty that reels you in, sends you tumbling into an abyss that you’ve managed to avoid ‘til now.
next thing you know, the sun is setting and chungha is sound asleep beside you, head leaned against the now closed window. you’re extra careful to avoid bumps in the road and sharp turns. although you’re stuck behind the wheel, you want her to get all the rest that she needs; in the past, you would’ve made an effort to be obnoxiously loud. to wake her up. to disrupt her slumber. but all of a sudden, you find yourself wanting nothing but comfort and peace for your sleepy best friend. you don’t consciously notice these changes at first, though. no, it’s a slow transformation — your love for her is growing stronger, but it’s easy to miss in the beginning stages.
the routine continues the next day. chungha singing along to the radio, you listening with the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it’s a wonder that you don’t have a headache by now, really, with the nonstop driving and the loud music, paired with the harsh sunlight. but somehow, you’ve never felt better. the weight on your shoulders that held you down for so long is gone and you’re filled with restless energy. a desire to drive until you find the end of the world, a need for adventure, a love for the life that you had once dreaded awaking to. you wonder why you said no for so long, why you’d always turned down chungha’s idea for a roadtrip — now, you’re realizing that maybe this is what you needed all along.
“hey, pull over,” she suddenly demands, her hand firm on your shoulder.
“what? why?” you ask in disbelief, glancing over at her. “chungha, we’re in the middle of nowhere. can’t you wait ‘til we get closer to civilization?” there’s a grin on her face, though, one that suggests she’s holding some kind of secret — it both worries and intrigues you, and when she responds with, “the middle of nowhere is the best place to be, isn’t it?” you really have no choice but to pull over onto the side of the road ( if you could call it that ). at this point, she’s got you wrapped around her finger and if you didn’t know better, you’d say that she knows it.
without hesitating, she opens the door and practically leaps out of your car, but not before turning the stereo up impossibly louder. you gaze after her, curious as to what she has to mind — and it doesn’t really come as a surprise when she starts dancing by herself, sandals kicking up hot desert sand with every move. a sudden thought hits you: she’s beautiful. of course, you’ve always seen your best friend as beautiful, both inside and out, but this is a whole new level. she’s so carefree and happy, full of boundless energy. the sunlight shines on her like a personal spotlight and you want to laugh at her strange idea, but you can’t. you can’t because you’re too busy trying to stop the racing of your heart.
you gulp down the nervous feeling that has suddenly consumed you and grab your phone, desperate to capture this memory forever. you step out of the car and begin a video, making a show of cheering her on. “woo! get it, girl!” you shout, followed by laughter from both you and her. “oh, shut up! get over here and dance with me!” she shouts back, and who are you to object? you toss your phone into the driver’s seat of your car and then you’re beside her, dancing like no one’s watching — and really, no one is, which makes you feel far more comfortable doing this than you ever would anywhere else.
after about six songs, you’re both ready to continue the journey. you’re walking to the car when she suddenly tells you that she loves you. it’s just a part of your friendship, something that you’ve said to each other for as long as you’ve known each other, really. . . but now, it holds so much more meaning on your end. “i love you more,” you respond as always, but you know that she doesn’t feel the weight of your words and maybe she never will. it’s okay, though, because you figure you’re lucky enough to be able to love her as a friend.
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