Claire Keane
Keni
d e v o n
Love Begins
PR's Tumblrdome
No title available
hello vonnie
Color Me Curious
Andulka
tumblr dot com
One Nice Bug Per Day
h
Mike Driver
Origami Around
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
seen from El Salvador
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ireland
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Venezuela
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
@cherr-y-recs
hi welcome to my (makeshift) nav!!
about me is in my description
riordanverse fic recs
marvel fic recs
seventeen fic recs
txt fic recs
enhypen fic recs
skz fic recs
stranger things fic recs
some reposts can’t be edited from mobile 💔 gotta get around to fixing that
Fem!Peter Parker headcanons
CW: fluff, kissing/makeout mention but no smut, relationship stuff, appearance headcanons
First things first, she’s 5’8(1.727m/keeping the Peter Parker height) she loves being a bit more on the taller side
Muscularrrr😋😋😋 thighs for daysss. Abs are not very prominent. Biceps are more sleeper build-esque. They have form non flexed but flexed they’re big. Gained some ass once she started working out more/fighting crime more.
Waist snatched just for you. It’s made so that you can grab it.
Loves going on runs with you. A good morning, summer run. More of a jog but nevertheless.
Smaller chest.
Almost no period cramps due to her arachnid hormones.
She has brown, wavy hair, it’s messy in the best way but if she were to do a hair routine she’d have loose curls.
She’d always grown her hair out down to the center of her spine. It’s get tangled and knotted which just put her in a bad mood. So she eventually resorted to a simple braid.
When you came along, you’d braid her hair for her. Two French braids.
You one time made a joke for her to get a pixie cut and she looked at you like it was the best idea she’s ever heard.
Now has an awesome wavy pixie cut.
Has her drivers license. Doesn’t really use it because it’s like New York so… also swings everywhere and if not for some reason runs?
She came once five minutes late to a date in a cute fit and hair but looking a bit deshevled. She ran to the restaurant and when asked why not use cab, bus, subway, etc. she replied “It’s more efficient. “ while panting.
Wears no makeup. Just some flavored chapstick. Would only put on makeup for a date with you and even then it’s some blue eyeliner or eyeshadow and her beloved cherry chapstick.
Loves gas station slushies. Can never chose between blue or red so gets them both but gets little sad when they mixed completely.
When you go with you get blue and she gets red and if you both want to switch you do. Instead of having them mixed.
After that you both have purple tongues. And not from switching cups 😝😝😝. She would burn a bright red matching with her drink.
Gets flustered SUPER easily. Fun to tease.
Owns more sports bras than regular bras
BIG BROWN EYES. You get lost in them super quick. You could probably forget your own name by staring.
Loves boba. Always down for some.
Sour candy is her go too. Likes lady-and-the-tramp-ing sour gummy worms with you.
Owns one singular pothos(houseplant) and it’s literally amazing. Waters it once a week but you give her any other plant and well it ain’t gon do well.
Comfort before style. She is stylish-ish
Isn’t an addict but enjoys a good iced coffee. Likes it with funky syrup like caramel.
Falls asleep on you the second your hand scratches her scalp. Out like a LIGHT. Especially when she gets it short.
You cut her hair. Wavy so even if it’s a little uneven you can’t tell.
Cuddlebug at night. All ain’t like CLINGY DEPENDANT but love hand holding.
Not much public making out but occasionally a kiss can get a little carried away.
Not a big drinker.
Big. No. Huge NERD. About anything and everything.
Not the biggest fan of reality tv.
Not a very online person but if she has instagram the post are legit just of the pair of you.
Loves horror movies but gets so scared. I’m talking HOWLING in theaters then claims “it’s was a good movie. It was ok” like ok queen.
Not huge on like pet names but will have a designated nickname for you. Whether it’s a short version of your name or something she made up.
Likes it when you uses pet names on her. Sweetie, babe, baby.
Super down bad for you.
Has this like simple black digital camera that goes everywhere with her.
Keeps extra elastics everywhere. In every pocket, in every jacket, there must be at least one.
Gets overwhelmed after a long day and goes into freak out mode. Sometimes she just needs her headphones to blast out the sound in her head while you sit next to her.
Sometimes she just needs quiet with you in reach but not touching.
Closes her eyes and curls into a ball but gives you updates once in a while. “It’s getting better.”
Loves you and you love her.
Ahhh I love women and making men women!!!!✌️✌️✌️
SAPPHIC SPIDERWOMAN RAHHH
yayay elmax ao3 fics!!
a league of our own by lumism
FINALLY CUTESY HS AU ELMAX MAIN COUPLE EEEE
i have a cute lil idea for a request for luke if you're still taking them (no pressure if ur not)!! yk that feeling when u hit ur lip bc you dropped ur phone on it and it turns red and you can't stop biting it bc the pain feels good? what if reader hits herself somehow and the next day her lip is swollen and Luke promises to kiss it better but bites the swollen part instead bc he thinks it looks cute all red 🙈
kiss it better
— luke castellan x fem reader! 1.4k
listen to the rihanna song :) ft. suggestive kissing that they are really insane about
“Ow—”
“Ah, shit, sorry. Did I—”
The blood pools in your mouth, thick and settling under your tongue. You spit it out, the blood and saliva sitting in a sad puddle in the grass.
That’s fucking disgusting.
Luke stares at it. Repeats, “That’s fucking disgusting.”
You jab him with the point of your sneaker. “That was your fault, asshole.”
Your eyes widen when you hear your voice, which sounds weird because of your swollen lip. You run your fingers along the skin, and they come back streaked red. Luke is shoved away from you in a hurry as you rush the few feet to the water.
The reflection isn’t pretty. Your lip is slightly split, just off the center of your Cupid’s bow. A bit of blood drips down and sends ripples through the water, distorting your face even more than Luke has.
You turn to glare at him. He’s laying on his back in the grass, eyes shut without a care in the world. He only cracks an eye open when he feels you sit next to him again.
“You okay?” He lifts his hand and pokes at the crease between your eyebrows. You scowl harder when he tries to smooth it out.
“Aw, I said I’m sorry. Smile for me,” he says, before something like realization takes over his face.
You actually frown. “That sounds kinda—”
“I realized it the moment after I said it. Sorry.”
You whack the back of his head as he props himself up with a Herculean effort. He’s smiling at you apologetically, and it makes you want to whack him again. You wonder if he ever gets tired of looking so effortlessly pretty.
As some way of comfort, he says, “Your lip looks pretty sick, though. I’ll let you give me a shiner so we’re even.”
“Oh, of course you’d want to look all tough. You’re only saying that because Audrey said your bruised knuckles made you look hot.”
He looks a little smug as he grins boyishly. “Was she wrong?”
(No, she was not.)
You pout. He places both hands on the sides of your face to drag the corners of your mouth up into a smile. You pretend like you’re going to bite him and he pulls his hands away, chuckling.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You whack him again for real. “Oh, fuck you. How are you going to injure me and then make fun of me?”
“I told you I was sorry!” he defends.
“Luke.”
“I’m sorry,” he stresses, dragging you closer to him by the belt loops on your jeans. He pulls you right into the space between his legs, the two of you so close your faces would touch if you turned your face an inch.
Luke’s voice drops fifteen fucking octaves.
“Want me to make it up to you?”
He’s so close that he can hear the hitch in your breath. He smiles.
“You want to...?”
Your voice trails off at the end, like the syllables are getting caught in your throat. You think the entirety of your insides have shriveled up like an unwatered plant. The neurons have stopped functioning your brain completely.
His hands, which were resting comfortably on your hips, are sliding upward, under your shirt and to the bare skin of your waist. His palms are callused from years of hard work and his training, and you can feel every single shift of his hands on your skin.
The best swordsman in 300 years, you remember.
He’d let you handle his sword once during practice — you’d needed two hands just to wield the weapon he can spin around effortlessly in one of his.
The reminder of Luke’s sheer strength comes back to you in startling clarity.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You thank whatever part of your brain has enough willpower to form any semblance of a thought. “And how would you do that?”
“I’d hold you like this,” he says matter of factly. You think the birds have stopped chirping. He pulls you close enough that you can count each individual freckle under his eyes. “And then I’d kiss it better.” He squeezes uour sides. “Do you want that?”
If you were standing up, you’re certain that your legs would give out. As if you wanting that was ever a question. You think the embarrassing way you’re struggling to find words gives him enough of an answer.
“Do you want that?” you echo.
“‘Course I do, babe.” His thumbs are rubbing symmetrical circles against the spots above your ribs. “I’m asking if you want that.”
Very reluctantly, you pry one of his hands off your side. You guide it up to the side of your neck, where your heart threatens to burst from your body.
It takes him a second to find your pulse, but you notice the exact moment he does. His entire face lights up at the feeling of your heart hammering out of the side of your neck.
His smile threatens to take over his entire face. “I got you.”
You let your eyes slide shut, your nerve endings burning in anticipation. He’s seated so close that you’re surprised your lips haven’t slotted together yet — which is why you’re confused when he nudges your head to the side with the point of his nose.
“Luke?” you whisper. “What are you— Oh, fuck.”
He’s missed your lips by a long shot. But you don’t even consider complaining about the way he’s pressing his mouth to the side of your neck in burning hot kisses.
You think you see the light.
Your hands seize onto the closest thing, which just so happens to be Luke’s upper arms. His scratchy camp t-shirt feels oddly soft and perfect under your touch. He moves all the way up to your jaw before working his way back down to your collarbones, making sure to pay special attention to the spot where he can feel your pulse throb under your skin.
With your grip on his biceps, you feel every muscle in his arms shift when he tugs you onto his lap. And you feel the way his laugh rumbles in his chest when he hears the sound you make in response.
“Thought you were—“ You hiccup, trying and failing to make your breathing go back to normal. “—going to kiss it better, Luke.”
He finally lifts his head from the crook of your neck, staring longingly at the expanse of skin he’d just been fixated on. “Sorry. You distracted me.”
Whatever you were planning on saying dissipates from your mind — the responding kiss he presses to your cut is so chaste that you barely even register it happened at all.
“That better?” he asks, his hands slipping away from you to try and fix his messy curls. You hadn’t even realized you’d been tugging on them this entire time.
The stark contrast between the kisses he’d been giving you before and the miniscule peck he’s placed on your lips has you blinking at him, confused.
Luke laughs at whatever disappointment he sees on your face. “Yes?”
“Can you…” The blood rushes to your face as the words struggle to come out. “Can you…”
He must think he’s being kind by soothing the spot near your hip bone just above the waistband of your pants — but it just makes everything ten times harder. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. He’s smiling. He’s so evil.
“Luke,” you warn.
“You’re really warm, babe. You okay?”
“Please,” you beg, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
“Alright, alright,” he hums, tilting your head for you. “‘M sorry, I was just messing.”
You’re practically singing under his hands. When he finally kisses you — kisses you for real — you wonder how you’ve gone so long without this.
He’s not hesitant in the slightest, and you think your face is actually going to catch on fire. Luke feels so perfect against your lips and against your chest and against your sides and underneath you that you know that even if Poseidon were to drag you to the bottom of the lake and if Zeus were to smite you from his place in Olympus right now, you’d die happy.
Luke’s tongue flits over the cut he gave you.
It stings.
You hope he never stops.
“D’you forgive me?” he asks, still ghosting over your lips.
Your chests are heaving hard in unison. His eyes are blown so wide that you see nothing but the black of his eyes.
You drag his lower lip between your teeth and bite down. When he pulls away, he’s grinning, his mouth swollen and red.
“Want me to kiss it better?” you ask.
He answers yes against your lips.
notes: this is what happens when i’ve been writing for luke for a month and have not had the chance to write a single kiss. so uhhhh sorry for this! i am but a girl and not immune to the charms of this fictional character.
genre/tags. suggestive. gn!reader. you can decide if it's friends to ??? or an established relationship. undiscussed kink ig. inspo: that one scene from king eternal monarch
“I’m going to kill him. No really, I will.” Seungcheol ends the call with Soonyoung.
You snort from your place on his bed, eyes glued to your laptop. “I swear, if you were a king, there’d be beheadings every other day.”
“That’s the first thing you think of?” He scoffs.
“Shut up, that’s what I’m reading about!” Lately, you’ve taken to working on your readings at his apartment, due in part to it being one of the few ways you can spend time with your boyfriend while bogged with schoolwork.
“Maybe you should take a break,” he raises his eyebrow pointedly at your trackpad. “You haven’t scrolled past that page for ten minutes.” Now it’s your turn to scowl, but he’s right. Relenting, you close your laptop and rest it on his bedside table.
“You’re no better though, you’ve been pacing since I got here.” You pat the space beside you invitingly. Seungcheol sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of you. Absently, you play with the fingers within reach of your hand. “You gotta admit though, it’s totally gonna happen, dorm devil.”
He glares at you, already pouting, though there’s no real bite behind it. “…I’m beheading you as my first order of business.”
“Try me.” Jokingly, you lean forward and look up, exposing your neck.
For a beat, there’s nothing, and you’re about to lower your chin with a lighthearted taunt of him chickening out, when it happens.
Seungcheol leans forward, tilting his head to place the softest kiss on the center of your throat. Oh.
He must have felt the sharp intake of your breath vibrate on his lips. Your entire body stiffens in shock, visibly jolting upwards. He takes it as his cue to move away slowly, eyes meeting yours.
You pull back much faster than he does, eyelids fluttering as you try to process what had just happened. Your mouth is softly parted in an o, a creeping heat replacing the teasing expression on your face just moments ago.
For a breathless moment, neither of you speak.
“Cheol—” his left hand comes to your chin, tilting your head as he kisses you again, this time a firm press of his lips onto lips. Oh.
It takes you longer to respond, your throat still tingling from earlier, but Seungcheol is impatient. He pulls away for a breath before closing in again. Soon enough, your eyes flutter shut, mouth moving against his.
One hand comes up to thread in his hair, and he groans when you tug at the strands just so, nails grazing his scalp.
His kiss is fierce but oh-so-gentle. You unravel under his touch, trading kisses and breathy sighs as he crowds you against his bed, one hand still on your chin and the other bracing his weight on the headboard.
Eventually, Seungcheol pulls away, eyes locking onto yours. He seems to be debating something, his stare flicking between your kiss-swollen lips, his hand, and the gaze you level at him, debauched yet trusting. Without looking away, the hand on your chin wraps itself around your throat. There’s barely any pressure, only the weight of him and his unspoken question, yet a breathy noise rips itself past your lips.
Relief flashes briefly across his eyes before it is replaced by a smirk.
His mouth moves past your lips and cheek, ghosting over your ear. Seungcheol’s hot breath fans across your skin, and you know he is savoring the way you shudder against him.
“Off with your head.”
stranger things fic recs in the tags!
byler ao3 fic recs!!! will continue to update
you took my heart (i was sleeping) by lameparties
THE power outage fic. The fic to rule them all.
we all have a hunger (tell me what you need) by papenathy
IM A SUCKER FOR VAMPIRES (pun intended)
nobody’s ever loved me like you do by unidentifiedblackthorn
the perfectest two parter. i now accept this as canon.
eyecatcher by smoosnoom (moonsooms)
mike is such a loving idiot :”)
the great big mystery of mike wheeler’s no good, very bad, terrible feelings by smoosnoom (moonsooms)
shoulders
make a move by astrobi
flirty will my favvvv
take a little moment (find the right words) by astrobi
as a uni sophomore, this is exactly what i need 😌
love in slow motion by astrobi
too frickin cute. they knew!!!!
you can’t help but become the sun by miwiheroes
can this happen to me irl pls (except i’d probably end up eating toxic paint)
mike wheeler’s guide to falling in love with a superhero by smoosnoom (moonsooms)
too too too cute, ily spidey aus
what can i do by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)
so sweet, i love fluffy uni/age up aus. really nailed the semi-close siblings going through parents’ divorce :”)
be the boy by blueremedy
the sweetest thing EVER. i giggled at the “my crush is tall dark and handsome” “lucas?!?” scene looollll
home is where the heart is by smoosnoom (moonsooms)
me and who
ao3 is my friend…. unlike the duffer brothers
"volume 2 was so bad everyone was so out of character!!" idk i thought the part where the power went out and will and mike had to share a bed to stay warm like the soldiers in the army was pretty neat but maybe that was just me idk
𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 — 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 & 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄
P — BEOMGYU × FEM!READER | G — SUGGESTIVE, fluff if you want to squint, fake dating!au | W — implied alcohol consumption, written in a writer's block so possibility of it being bad 📈📈📈 + not proofread
a/n — an attempt to escape this writer's block help ✋ don't bring soobin up right now this is beomgyu's girl ur talking to
INSPIRED BY . . . ENHA'S 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄
the bass vibrated through the floor and synced with your heartbeat as you eyed beomgyu in a crowd of friends from across the room— a carmine colored haze curtaining your vision as you eyed his lips, shining with your clear lipgloss.
“it's so believable,” he had said before the party, laying on your bed, referencing to the relationship you two were faking, “she would totally believe it's yours.”
“she's rude,” was the only response you could cough out, jealousy clouding your vision as you reached over for the tissues to wipe the eyeliner you messed up once again, “your ex would just say my ‘dramatic girly personality’ is rubbing off on you.”
but beomgyu wasn't ever letting his ex get to him. he only turned over, running his fingers through his hair and smiling pretty at you, “am I not your girl, y/n?”
you didn't even know what he still saw in her. she loved to bring everyone down when she had no good qualities of herself to present. and you always happened to be in her line of vision. but you only chuckled at beomgyu as he bent over towards you at your mirror, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“i need to show her you're mine.”
for a second, you felt your wrist halt while you applied your make up. what did he just say?
“y'know,” he continued, “to make her jealous.”
of course. why do you even try with him?
“then just leave a hickey or something.” you felt your haste creeping up towards your cheeks in the form of a blush. beomgyu rested his fingers on your waist.
and then, with a small ooh! he grabbed the lipgloss that was trending on social media lately — your prized possession. “careful!” you turned to smack him, but stopped when you realized the close proximity of his lips near your own, “that one's expensive, beomgyu.”
“i'll buy you another one,” he rolled his eyes, unscrewing it and bringing it towards his lips, “dior, right?”
fuck. you wanted to kiss him. he puckered his lips as he admired himself in the mirror. from his scent wafting around, to the texture of his leather jacket against your bare skin; you were starting to get impatient. “y/n,” he turned to you, pleasantly satisfied, “don't I look pretty?”
“the prettiest.”
so there you were, knees weak as beomgyu's eyes searched the room for a sight of his ex— which, obviously, was starting to get the better of you. this entire ‘relationship’ was starting to get the better of you. his hand, wearing your hair tie, was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. you could see the jacket was being pulled off his arm, taking the weak sleeve of his tank top underneath with it, revealing the small mole on his collarbones...
and then you heard the conversation of familiar voices behind you. “fuck, beomgyu looks better the last time I saw him.”
“he's got a girl now.”
you chuckled. it was his ex.
“don't know where the fuck she is right now, though.”
“gyu's looking lonely, go comfort your ex.”
“not going to lie, maybe I will.”
you placed your drink down on the table you were leaning on. fuck it.
“hey, babe,” beomgyu's eyebrow cocked with slight amusement as you approached him, knees threatening to buckle as your eyes fixated on his shining lips. “you seen her anywhere?”
you placed your hands on his chest as he tilted his head, his hands involuntarily finding themselves at your waist. it was so natural for him to treat you like his; a thumb caressing the expanse of your hand as his eyes stared at you like you were the center of the universe, listening to you talk with the habit he had of blinking lazily and humming in response.
the flashing lights made his features so prominent, and you felt yourself leaning towards him. maybe it was the drink you were sipping on earlier, but you were absolutely done with playing this game. to have beomgyu treat you so good, act like you're all he's searching for, even when there's no one around to act for, and yet, just claim that it's all a lie?
“she's watching,” your lips were inches away from his. even though you knew your back was turned to her, you could feel her eyes drilling into your head, “kiss me.”
“god,” beomgyu scoffed, a hand dragging from your waist up to your neck in a painfully slow manner, “why are you so good for me?”
“wasn't this part of the deal?” you tilted your head as beomgyu's eyes glittered, scanning your every feature. your hands on his chest started to recognize a change in the pattern of his heartbeat. was he getting nervous?
“an ‘emergency kiss’ was part of the deal,” he smiled at you, like he was proud that you were becoming more daring the more time you spent with him. “us right now was ‘off-limits’, remember?” a finger tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice changing pitch to mimic your past words.
now he was just asking to be shut up. you felt a scowl settle on your lips as your ears turned red from guilt. “so will you not kiss me?” that sounded more whiney out loud, you thought to yourself, as you blinked up at beomgyu, who was beginning to go red in the face from your demeanor. you were seriously driving him crazy.
“since you asked so nicely, pretty.”
relief washed over you as you finally felt beomgyu against your lips, a whine leaving your throat as his hand rested against your neck, lips curling into a smile against yours.
“is she watching?” you mumbled in between, drooping eyes watching his roll shut as your fingers snuck up from the nape of his neck into his hair—his favorite. he only pressed his fingers which were resting on your hips harder against your skin, breathing hitching at your question. the taste of the lipgloss made its way to clog your senses, taking a few minutes to register what he would say next.
“she left when she saw you with me.”
txt — masterlist
main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny @kdyism @neotism @bluejaem @radiorenjun @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world
I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!
MY LOVER BOY — YANG JUNGWON
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jungwon x fem!reader | uni au | black cat × golden retriever | friends to lovers (but he’s already in love) | yearning, jealousy, softness | trust slow-built from affection | softest obsession | mutual care | final filthy but affectionate smut
a/n: read this whenever you think about your fuckass ex
summary: you’re sharp-tongued, black cat energy, and never let people in—until jungwon starts showing up for you again and again, gentle and constant. you try not to fall, but he already has. and when jealousy cracks your calm, everything you’ve both been holding back finally comes out.
warnings: emotional vulnerability, soft jealousy, abandonment issues, prolonged yearning, mutual pining, romantic tension, eventual smut including: fingering, face-sitting (reader receiving), grinding, clit play, dirty talk, praise, aftercare — no penetration
want your own custom story? click this!!
masterlist | wattpad
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
You don’t notice him at first. Correction: you pretend not to notice him.
He’s there in the way most background things are—like the class clock, or the hum of the AC, or the scratch of pens on paper. Persistent. Constant. Slightly annoying once you become aware of it.
Yang Jungwon sits two rows behind you in lecture, slightly to the left. Close enough that if you turned your head you’d probably meet his eyes. Far enough that you can convince yourself you aren’t being watched.
You feel it anyway. That soft, warm prickle at the back of your neck when you’re taking notes. The way you can suddenly tell the exact moment someone is looking at you like you’re something they want and are too scared to touch.
Black cat instinct, Chaewon would call it.
“Stop looking like you’re about to claw someone,” she whispers, leaning over your notebook, her hair tickling your arm. “You’re scaring the freshmen.”
“I’m not,” you murmur, eyes still trained on the board. “This is just my face.”
“Your face looks like a midterm,” she says. “Nobody wants it, but it’s there.”
You huff just enough air to count as a laugh. Your pen moves again, dragging ink over the professor’s slides. Behind you, his chair creaks—a tiny shift, a soft rustle, like someone straightening up, trying to pay attention.
It’s the third week in a row you’ve had this elective together. You only know that because you counted.
Not him. The… pattern. The way his backpack always lands on the seat with a soft thud two minutes before class. The way a paper coffee cup clinks onto the tiny desk. The way Heeseung slides into the seat beside him, muttering something like, “You’re early again, lover boy,” in that easy, teasing voice of his.
You hear more than people think you do. You just prefer not to respond.
________
The first time he talks to you, it’s over something stupid.
The classroom door swings open as you’re leaving, and you nearly collide with a chest full of black hoodie and the smell of soap—clean and faintly citrusy. Your body jerks back instinctively; your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag.
“Oh—sorry!” His voice is soft, airier than you expect. “I didn’t see you.”
You look up.
Jungwon’s eyes are big. Eyelashes ridiculous. He’s already half-smiling, like he’s braced for you to be annoyed and is prepared to take it. You blink. “It’s fine.”
He shifts to the side immediately, back pressed to the wall so you have more space to exit. He doesn’t try to touch you, doesn’t grab your arm or your bag, doesn’t make it weird. He just… opens space. Your chest does a microscopic, treacherous flutter. You ignore it. Chaewon, of course, does not.
She steps out beside you, eyes flicking from you to him and back. “Thank you,” she says, sugar-sweet. “Most people just barrel through her like she’s a door.”
He laughs a little. “That sounds painful.”
“She bites,” Chaewon stage-whispers. “Be careful.”
You give her a look that could cut glass. She beams. Jungwon rubs the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth tugging upward like he’s trying not to grin too hard.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, eyes sliding back to you for one second—just one. “Sorry again.”
You step past him. Your shoulder barely brushes the fabric of his hoodie. He doesn’t flinch, but you feel every atom of that distance closing: two people the universe keeps pushing a little too near.
Outside, the hallway buzzes with chatter. Chaewon nudges you with her elbow.
“He’s cute,” she says.
You shrug, lips twisting. “Lots of people are cute.”
“Yeah, but he looks at you like you’re the final boss.”
“Chaewon.”
“What?” she sings. “Little meow meow has a crush on you.”
“I don’t do crushes,” you say.
You don’t do hope, either. Not anymore.
_______
The coffee shop near campus knows you by now.
Not in a “here’s your usual, bestie” way, but in a cautious, “oh god she’s back and she looks like she wants to commit arson” way. You like it here. It’s noisy enough that your thoughts don’t echo, but quiet enough that no one forces you to speak.
“Back again?” Taehyun asks as you step up to the counter. He leans his elbow beside the register, dark eyes flicking over your expression. “You look like exams started and no one told you.”
“This is just my face,” you deadpan.
“We’ve been over this,” he says, tapping the counter. “Black coffee, two sugars?”
You hesitate.
“Make it three,” you say. “I had class.”
“You always have class,” he mutters, turning away to start your order. “In both senses. Unfortunately, that doesn’t buy the coffee.” You’re digging for your wallet when the bell above the door rings again.
You don’t turn around. You don’t need to. There’s a specific kind of silence that follows Jungwon wherever he goes, like the air holds its breath for him. It happens now—just a tiny pause, then the low rumble of another voice. Heeseung. “Bro, if you come here any earlier you’re going to open the shop,” Heeseung says, stepping up beside you. You feel more than see Jungwon freeze when he realizes you’re there.
“Oh,” he says, a fraction of a second later. “Hi.”You glance over your shoulder.
He’s a little out of breath, hair ruffled from the wind, hoodie zipped halfway over a white t-shirt. There’s a strap digging into his shoulder from his bag, and a strand of hair is stuck to his forehead. You shouldn’t notice this much. You do anyway.
“Hi,” you say, because you are not a monster.
“She speaks,” Heeseung gasps, hand pressed to his chest. “I thought you were a myth.”
You look at Taehyun. “Can I pay extra for him to shut up?”
“Tempting,” Taehyun says, sliding your cup over. “But unfortunately that falls outside our listed services. For now.” Heeseung cackles. Jungwon’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, watching the exchange like he’s grateful just to be close enough to witness it.
Taehyun nods at the cup. “Three sugars. You okay?”
You blink. “…I said three?”
He smirks. “You didn’t have to.” You narrow your eyes but take the drink. The warmth seeps into your fingers. Beside you, Jungwon shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he wants to say something and doesn’t know if he’s allowed. “Um,” he starts, voice soft. “If you want, you can take the table near the window? I know you usually sit there, but we were gonna— I mean, we can sit somewhere else. It’s fine.” You stare at him. You didn’t realize you had “a usual table.” He did.
“We can sit anywhere,” you say lightly, nodding toward the back. “The window’s all yours.” His mouth opens, then closes. “No, I—”
Heeseung throws an arm around his shoulders. “Look at you, gentleman of the year. Giving up prime real estate like that. Should I be proud or concerned?”
“Shut up,” Jungwon mutters, cheeks turning pink. You take a sip of your coffee. Too sweet. Perfect.
“Thanks,” you say.
He looks up, surprise flashing in his eyes before it melts into something softer.
“Anytime,” he says quietly.
————
He’s not obvious, you’ll give him that. If you didn’t have abandonment carved into your ribs like a warning sign, you might have believed he was just… friendly. He smiles at everyone. Holds doors. Carries things. Laughs at jokes that aren’t funny.
But then there are the little things.
You’re late to class once—just once—and slip into your seat with your hair still damp from a rushed shower. There’s a sticky note on your desk.
You didn’t put it there.
Prof gave extra reading. Check the slides after class :)
The smiley face has cat ears drawn on it.
You turn in your seat, and he’s there, pretending to listen to the professor, pen tapping against his notebook. When you crumple the note loudly, his mouth twitches.
Another time, you forget your pen entirely. You’re halfway through accepting your fate when there’s a soft tap against your elbow. You look down. A pen lies on the edge of your desk, nudged gently toward you.
You follow the trajectory back to him. He waggles his fingers once in a tiny wave, then immediately looks away like he’s done something embarrassing.
Chaewon catches you watching him.
“Well, well,” she murmurs, leaning in. “What’s this? Eye contact? In public?”
You flick the pen at her. “I hope you trip.”
“You’ll catch me,” she says confidently.
You don’t say it out loud, but the thought crawls up anyway.
You don’t trust yourself to catch anyone. Not when you’re so used to being the one dropped.
_________
Of course the universe chooses group project day to test your patience.
Names flash on the screen, dividing the class into arbitrary combinations. You cross your arms, silently praying you get paired with someone who doesn’t smell like vape and unfinished assignments.
“YO,” Heeseung shouts, leaning back in his chair. “Look at that.”
You glance up.
Your name is on the projector.
Next to it: Yang Jungwon.
You stare at it for a solid five seconds before your brain decides to function.
“No way,” Chaewon whispers, eyes gleaming. “Oh, this is so hot girl-coded.”
“It’s random,” you mutter.
“Yeah,” she says, lips curving. “Random. Sure.”
The professor dismisses you to find your groups. You stay seated for as long as possible, hoping he’ll just… forget. Leave. Decide you’re too much work.
He doesn’t.
A shadow falls over your desk. You look up.
Jungwon stands there, notebook in hand, expression soft but determined. Up close, he looks even younger and even older at the same time—baby-faced but with something steady in his gaze, like he’s decided on something and won’t be moved.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.”
“So, um.” He glances at your name on the screen, like he hasn’t already memorized it weeks ago. “Partners?”
You could say no. Demand a reshuffle. Tell the professor you’re better alone; you always are.
Instead, you hear yourself say, “Okay.”
His smile is small but devastating.
“Cool,” he breathes. “Do you—do you wanna… library? After class?”
He sounds cautious, offering it like a fragile thing he’s scared you’ll break.
You hesitate. Chaewon’s foot connects with your ankle under the desk. You shoot her a glare.
“Sure,” you say. “Library.”
“Okay,” he says, shoulders loosening. “I’ll… I’ll save us a table.”
As he heads back to his desk, Heeseung grabs him by the hood, dragging him down to hiss in his ear.
“You got partnered?” Heeseung whisper-yells. “Oh my god, the RNG gods love you.”
“Shut up,” Jungwon groans, face hidden in his hands.
You pretend not to hear. You hear every word.
_______
The library is quieter than usual. Soft lamplight pools over wooden tables. Students murmur in low voices, fingers clicking over keyboards, pages turning. You step in, exhale, and feel your shoulders drop a fraction.
To your left, he’s already there.
Jungwon sits at a table near the window, sunlight staining his hair a warm brown. He’s surrounded by a fortress of books—neatly stacked, color-coded by subject. There are two highlighters. Two pens. Two notebooks.
Your stomach does something traitorous.
He looks up the moment you cross the threshold. His face lights up in a way that makes you want to both run and stay forever.
“You came,” he says.
You arch a brow. “I said I would.”
“I know,” he says quickly. “I just—sorry. That sounded… stupid. I’m glad you’re here.”
You slide into the chair opposite him, placing your bag on the floor. “You’re very prepared.”
“Oh.” He glances at the supplies like he’s seeing them for the first time. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to use so I brought… everything.”
You swallow. Your throat feels tight for no good reason.
“You don’t have to,” you say quietly. “You don’t have to make it easier for me.”
He pauses. The air between you stills. “I’m not trying to make it easier,” he says, voice soft but steady. “I’m just trying to be… here.”
You look at him then.
Really look.
He’s fidgeting with the edge of a sticky note, thumbs worrying the paper. His eyes flick to your face, then away, then back again. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, but he doesn’t flinch from your gaze.
You’re so used to people giving up. Stopping at the first sign of inconvenience. Backing off the moment you don’t smile big and bright and accessible.
He doesn’t.
He just exists. Warm. Constant.
Dangerous.
You flip open your notebook. “Let’s start with the topics.”
Relief washes over his features. “Right. Yeah. Okay.”
You work in comfortable silence for a while. His handwriting is small and neat, yours sharper, more angular. He leans forward when you speak, chin propped on his hand, eyes tracking your gestures like you’re the professor and he’s trying not to miss anything.
Once, when he passes you a book, his fingers brush yours.
You both freeze.
You feel heat shoot up your arm, straight to your chest. You pull back first, fingers curling into your palm like you’re tucking the reaction away where no one can see.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s fine,” you say, too quickly.
A smile ghosts over his lips, like he knows it’s not fine but is grateful you’re letting it be.
________
You don’t mean to overhear.
You’re heading back to the classroom later that week to grab your charger, footsteps echoing down the hallway. The room is half-empty, only a few students milling around. You pause when you hear familiar voices.
“Dude, just ask her out,” Heeseung is saying. “Worst case, she murders you. Honestly, what a way to go.”
“Can you be serious for one second?” Jungwon groans.
“I am serious. You’ve been in love with her for, like, three months.”
“Four.” A beat. “And I’m not in— I just—I really like her, okay?”
You freeze just outside the door.
Something sharp lodges under your ribs. You shouldn’t be here. You should walk away. But your body doesn’t move.
“You stare at her like she hung the moon,” Heeseung says. “And then you freak out when she looks back.”
“Because she’s—” Jungwon cuts himself off, words strangled. “Have you seen her? She’s… I don’t even know how to talk to her half the time. She’s so… confident. And she doesn’t need anyone. She doesn’t need me.”
Your fingers curl around the doorframe, knuckles white.
“You’re not exactly unwanted stock, you know,” Heeseung deadpans. “Girls literally line up to talk to you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want them,” Jungwon snaps, frustration bleeding through. “I want—”
He stops. Exhales.
“I want her,” he says, quieter. “Even if she only ever looks at me like I’m… temporary.”
Your throat tightens.
“Maybe,” Heeseung says, softer now, “she doesn’t know how to look at someone any other way.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“I just don’t want to scare her,” Jungwon whispers. “She always looks like she’s ready to run. Like if I say the wrong thing she’ll just… disappear.”
Your chest aches.
You move before you can think, stepping away from the doorway, shoes clicking too loudly against the floor as you retreat. Your heart hammers all the way down the hall.
Out of his league. Temporary. Ready to run. You hate how accurate it is.
You hate that he sees you like that and still chose to stay.
_______
Later, when you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling, Chaewon sprawled beside you scrolling through her phone, the words won’t leave you alone.
I want her.
You swallow, pressing your palms over your eyes like that will make it stop echoing.
“You’re being weird,” Chaewon announces.
“I’m always weird.”
“Weirder,” she amends. “Is this about sunshine boy?”
You stay silent.
She grins. “Ah. It is.”
“He’s…” You search for the right word and come up short. “Persistent.”
“Normal people call that ‘consistent’ or ‘caring,’” she says. “Only you would make it sound like a crime.”
“It’s suspicious,” you say, staring at the cracks in your ceiling. “People don’t just… stick around.”
“Maybe he’s not ‘people.’” She nudges your arm. “Maybe he’s just a boy who likes you and is too scared to say it.”
Your chest twists.
“He’s out of his mind,” you mutter.
She chuckles, rolling onto her side to face you. “You know what I think?”
“No.”
“I think,” she says, sing-song, “you like him back. You’re just too chickenshit to admit it.”
You don’t answer.
You don’t have to.
Your silence is loud enough.
Chaewon sighs, softer now. “You’re allowed to be loved, you know.”
Your eyes sting.
“I know,” you lie.
————
The next time you see Jungwon, he’s standing outside the lecture hall, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie, hair messier than usual. He straightens when he sees you, mouth parting like he wasn’t sure you’d show.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
For a moment, you just look at each other. The hallway buzzes around you—people laughing, doors slamming, footsteps—but it feels muffled, like someone turned the volume down on everything except him.
He clears his throat. “I, um… I made notes for the project draft. Do you wanna… go over them? After class?”
You could say no.
You don’t.
“Okay,” you say. “Library?”
His smile is small but real. “Library.”
As you walk past him into the classroom, you catch a flicker of something in his expression.
Hope. It scares you more than anything. Because for the first time, you’re not completely sure you want to run. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
______
You don't mean to make him part of your routine.
It just... happens. One day he's the boy who sits two rows behind you and hands you a pen. A few weeks later, he's the boy who slides into the seat next to yours before lecture because "group partners should sit together, right?" and somehow no one questions it.
You let him.
That's the wildest part—that you let him.
"Morning," he says one day, dropping into the chair beside you with a soft grin. There's a faint pink mark on his cheek, like he fell asleep on his notebook. "You look like you fought God and won."
You turn your head, deadpan. "This is just my face."
He laughs under his breath, quiet but genuine. "Your 'just my face' looks cool. I'd be scared to sit in your row if I didn't know you."
"You don't know me," you point out.
His gaze flickers to your notebook, then back. "I know enough to not be scared."
Your heart stutters. You look straight ahead again before he can see it on your face.
Chaewon slides into the seat on your other side, eyes flicking between you and Jungwon like she's keeping score.
"Wow," she says. "The emotional support boy is here early."
Jungwon chokes. "Emotional support— what?"
"Look at you," she gestures lazily. "She doesn't kill you when you talk. That's higher access than 99% of the population."
You roll your eyes. "I don't kill you when you talk either."
"That's because we're in a legally binding best friendship contract." She jabs a finger toward Jungwon. "He's a special case. Limited edition."
He grins, recovering quickly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
You hide your smile in the opening of your notebook.
He notices anyway.
_______
Your phones become part of it too.
It starts with project deadlines, reminders, shared documents. Efficient, distant. Normal.
[ jungwon 🐾]
hey, prof changed the due date for the draft. it's next friday now, not this one
[ you ]
i was literally about to pull an all-nighter
okay good to know. thanks
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
pls don't die
who else is gonna bully me in group meetings
You stare at that last text for a solid thirty seconds.
[ you ]
i don't bully you
you just react easily
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
so you admit i'm special 🤔
Your fingers hover over the keyboard.
[ you ]
delete this
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
never :)
He doesn't push further. Doesn't steer the conversation into heart emoji territory. He just sends you a screenshot of the updated rubric and a reminder about the page limit.
Still, the word special hangs in your mind the rest of the night.
____
You notice little things about him without meaning to.
He always brings an extra pen. (You pretend not to see the way his eyes flick to you before he sets it between your notebooks.)
He takes his hoodie off when he's focused, revealing strong forearms that your gaze absolutely does not linger on.
He doesn't talk himself down. Not once.
When someone in class jokes, "Yang, you're the professor's favorite," he just smiles and says, "I work hard. He likes good notes," like it's a simple fact.
He knows he's good. Smart. Capable.
He just also thinks you're... more.
One afternoon in the library, you catch him looking at your handwriting, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"What?" you ask, eyebrow raised.
He shrugs, unbothered. "Yours looks like a cool movie title sequence."
You blink. "Is that a compliment?"
"Yeah," he says easily. "Mine looks like a receipt. Yours looks like a poster."
You stare at him for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Your handwriting is fine," you say, too casually. "It's... you know. Neat. Organized."
"So you have been examining it." His eyes flash with mischief.
You scowl. "I have to read it for the project."
"Sure," he says, drawing out the word.
He doesn't look away.
You're the first one to.
_______
"You're softer around him," Chaewon announces one day in the café.
"I am not." You blow on your coffee like it's personally offended you.
"You smile more," she says.
"I smile the same."
"You glare less."
"That's because I'm tired," you argue.
"And because your sunshine boy holds doors and carries your bag and sends you 'don't forget to eat' texts," Taehyun adds from behind the counter without looking up. "We see things."
You narrow your eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be busy?"
"I'm multitasking," he says. "Judgment and barista work can coexist."
As if summoned, Jungwon pushes the door open, a rush of cold air following him in. His hair's damp from the drizzle outside, cheeks pink from the wind. He spots you immediately.
He always does.
"Hi," he says, coming over. He looks at your cup. "You already got coffee."
"Is that a crime?" you ask.
He shakes his head, smile small. "No, I just— I was gonna buy you one."
Your stomach flips once, traitorous and rude.
"You can buy your own," you say. "Equal rights."
His mouth curves, amused. "Can I at least sit with you?"
You gesture to the chair across from you. "It's a public establishment."
"That's a yes," Chaewon translates, getting up. "I'll leave you two emotionally constipated idiots to your... group work. I have places to be."
"You literally don't," you say.
She winks. "Not physically. But spiritually, my time is limited."
She pats Jungwon's shoulder on the way out. "Good luck, lover boy."
He groans quietly. "She really— okay."
He sits down, dropping his bag gently by the chair.
You watch him pull out his laptop, his notebook, a purple highlighter you've secretly decided fits him.
"Did you finish your section?" he asks.
"Of the draft? Yeah." You nudge your bag open and slide your folder out. "Don't look so shocked."
"I'm not shocked," he says. "I just... like seeing you proud of your work."
You freeze.
"I'm not—"
"You get this little wrinkle right here," he continues, oblivious, lightly tapping the space between his brows on his own face. "When you're satisfied with something. Most people only see the 'do not disturb' version of you. It's fun watching the other one uh... load in."
You stare at him.
"Do you... analyze everyone like this?" you ask slowly.
He thinks about it. "No."
The answer is simple. Certain.
"So it's just me?" you push.
His eyes meet yours, steady.
"Yeah," he says. "It's just you."
Something in your chest lurches and then sits heavier than before, like your heart just took on extra weight.
You look away first.
_______
Later that week, you're both leaving class when you feel the first, faint twinge of something you are absolutely not ready to name.
It happens as you're walking down the hall together, your shoulder just barely not brushing his. You're halfway through telling him about a professor who mispronounced your name for the fifth time when a voice calls out:
"Jungwon?"
You look up.
Ningning is walking toward you, clutching a stack of notebooks, cheeks flushed from the cold. She's all bright colors and bright eyes, the kind of girl people describe as "bubbly" and "effortless."
You watch his face carefully.
He brightens, but not in the way that makes your stomach drop. It's warm. Polite. Familiar.
"Hey," he says. "Do you need help with that?"
"Oh my god, yes," she laughs, shifting the notebooks. "I didn't think this through."
He glances at you.
It's quick, almost unnoticeable. A check-in.
You wave a hand. "Go. Before she dies under that pile."
He grins. "I'll be right back."
You don't know why he has to add that. You're not going anywhere.
He takes most of the notebooks from her, easy. Ningning sighs in relief, brushing hair from her face.
"You're a lifesaver," she says, touching his arm. "Seriously, what would I do without you?"
"Trip and fall dramatically," he deadpans.
"And you'd catch me," she jokes, lightly squeezing his forearm.
Something ugly and sharp twists in your chest.
You don't like it.
You're not used to seeing him be... touchable. Accessible. His attention diverted.
You shouldn't care. You have no claim on him. He's allowed to talk to whoever he wants; you're not his girlfriend.
Still.
When Ningning laughs and leans a little closer, angling her body toward him, you feel your jaw tighten.
He's just being nice, you tell yourself.
He's always nice.
You hate that about him right now.
_____
You don't stay to watch the whole thing.
You turn away, fingers curling around the strap of your bag. The hallway blurs a little at the edges. You walk, each step a small act of stubbornness against the heat climbing up your neck.
It's stupid to feel this way. You barely talk. You've only known him for a few months. You don't do this. You don't get jealous over boys who bring extra pens and remember your coffee order.
Jealousy implies possession, and you have none here.
Still, it simmers under your skin all the way down the stairs.
You don't see the exact moment it happens.
But if you could, you'd see this:
The second you pivot away, frustrated, the second your shoulders stiffen and your gaze drops to the floor—
Jungwon's eyes dart to you.
He's mid-laugh, mid-response to something Ningning says when his attention snaps, like a magnet jerked out of alignment. His gaze follows you down the hallway, focus sharpening, the rest of the world dimming at the edges.
He doesn't even realize he's doing it.
Ningning says something. Her hand squeezes his arm again.
"—right, Jungwon?"
He blinks, eyes tearing away from your retreating back.
"Sorry," he says, forcing a smile. "What did you say?"
She pouts, playful. "You're so distracted. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he lies. "Just... thinking about something."
Not something.
Someone.
You.
________
"Twin," Heeseung says later, dropping into the seat next to him in their shared room. "What's wrong with your face?"
Jungwon flops back on his mattress. "It's my face."
"No, this is your 'I did something wrong to my crush and she doesn't even know I exist anymore' face," Heeseung corrects. "Very specific model. Limited edition."
Jungwon stares at the ceiling.
"She walked away," he says quietly. "I was supposed to walk with her after class and she just... left."
"Okay," Heeseung says slowly. "And this personally offended you because...?"
"Because she never forgets when we're supposed to meet," he says, frustration bleeding through. "She's always on time. She double-checks everything. If she left, it wasn't an accident."
Heeseung clicks his tongue. "Ooh. Drama."
"I think she was..." He hesitates. "Mad?"
"At what? Did you breathe wrong? Blink at the wrong speed?"
He exhales. "Ningning asked me to carry some notebooks."
"Okay," Heeseung nods. "That's pretty on brand. You love lifting heavy shit for people."
"She touched my arm a lot," Jungwon says softly. "And I didn't— I mean, I wasn't—"
"Into it?" Heeseung offers.
"No," he says immediately. "I was trying to be polite. But I think..." His hands scrub over his face. "I think she saw."
"Your girl?"
"She's not my—"
"Your potential girl," Heeseung amends.
Jungwon is quiet for a long moment.
"I don't want her to think I'm playing around," he says finally. "If she saw that and thought I liked it, she's... definitely gone."
"What if she was jealous?" Heeseung asks.
Jungwon's heart does a painful, disbelieving lurch. "She doesn't get jealous."
"You sure?" Heeseung says. "You don't watch someone that closely and then just... not care."
Jungwon thinks about the way your jaw clenched. The tight set of your shoulders. The way you didn't look back, like you were annoyed with yourself for looking in the first place.
He thinks about how hard you've worked to keep your distance, even after letting him in this much.
"She doesn't owe me anything," he says quietly. "But I... owe her the truth."
He sits up, resolve settling over his features.
"What are you doing?" Heeseung asks.
"Tomorrow," Jungwon says, more to himself than anyone, "I'm talking to her."
"About Ningning?"
"About everything."
Heeseung leans back, grinning. "Finally."
________
The universe, for once, cooperates.
The next day, you end up in the same empty stairwell between classes. You're leaning against the wall, checking your phone, willing your chest to stop feeling tight over something as stupid as an arm touch.
Footsteps approach.
You look up.
It's him.
Of course it's him.
"Hey," he says, a little breathless, like he ran a bit to get there. "Can we talk?"
Your spine stiffens. "About what?"
He swallows, eyes searching yours, trying to read what he's walking into.
"You left yesterday," he says carefully. "After class."
You shrug, aiming for casual, landing somewhere near brittle. "I had things to do."
"Right," he nods, though you both know you usually walk out together. "So... that's all?"
You stare at him.
His expression is open. No defensiveness, no arrogance. Just concern. And under that, something steady and bright that makes you want to both lean in and push him away.
You could lie.
You could brush it off, act unbothered, pretend you didn't care who touched him where.
But you are so, so tired of lying to yourself.
Your jaw tightens.
You meet his eyes dead-on.
"Why did you let her touch you like that?" you ask, voice low.
The question drops between you like a stone in water, sending ripples through everything.
His eyes widen.
He wasn't expecting you to say it out loud.
Good.
You weren't expecting it either.
_____
For a second, the words just hang there between you.
Then Jungwon exhales, shoulders dropping—not in defeat, but in decision.
"Okay," he says quietly. "That's fair."
You hadn't been bracing for that answer. You'd been bracing for denial, deflection, jokes—anything you could claw at and use as a reason to pull away again.
"Fair?" you echo.
He nods, gaze steady on yours. "Yeah. If it bothered you, then it matters. I'm not... I'm not going to pretend it doesn't."
Your heart does that awful, hopeful twist.
"You didn't answer the question," you say, voice a touch sharper to hide how unsteady you feel. "You could've moved away. You didn't."
He doesn't flinch.
"You're right," he says. "I should've."
There's no excuse tacked on. No "but she grabbed me" or "I didn't want to be rude." Just a simple admission that he could've done better.
It throws you off more than anything.
"I was trying to be polite," he adds, after a beat. "I didn't think about it fast enough. That's on me. But I wasn't—" He breaks off, expression tightening. "I wasn't... enjoying it. Or whatever you're worried about."
You hate how much relief pulses through you at that.
"I'm not worried," you lie. One corner of his mouth lifts, sad and fond at the same time. "You're mad," he corrects softly. "That's... different."
You look away, jaw working. A few seconds pass. Your pulse is loud in your ears. He lets the silence sit, not pushing, not rushing you.
"I just—" you start, then stop, frustrated at your own tongue.
His voice comes in, gentle. "Can I ask you something?" You don't trust your voice, so you just nod.
"If it was just about Ningning," he says carefully, "you wouldn't be this upset." Your fingers curl at your sides.
"It's not that she's bad," you mutter. "She's not. She's nice. Everyone likes her."
"She's a friend," he says. "I like her as a friend." You swallow. His eyes soften. "But you're not... everyone." You freeze. He takes a small step closer, enough that you can feel his warmth in the narrow stairwell, but not close enough that you can't escape if you want to. It feels deliberate. Patient.
"I should've pulled away," he says again. "Not because she did anything wrong. But because if you saw that and it hurt, then I care about that more than I care about her feelings being a little bruised."
You blink hard, turning that over. "You're assuming it hurt," you say, crossing your arms—a last flimsy shield.
He smiles, small and so annoyingly understanding it makes your chest ache. "It's okay if it did." You want to deny it so badly it's almost physical. But you remember how it felt. That sharp, unfamiliar burn in your chest. The way your feet moved before your brain could catch up, carrying you away because staying meant acknowledging that you wanted something you never let yourself want.
You. Jealous. Over him. "That's stupid," you say, hating how thin your voice sounds.
"Probably," he says lightly. "But feelings usually are. Doesn't mean they're wrong." You stare at him, thrown. Nobody ever talks to you like this. No one holds space for your reactions without trying to rearrange them into something more convenient.
"There's nothing wrong with you not liking it," he says. "You're allowed to... want me to have boundaries. Even with friends."
You're quiet.
"You're allowed," he repeats gently, "to want me to choose you."
Your throat tightens painfully.
"That's the problem," you whisper before you can stop yourself. "You say that like it's obvious."
He doesn't move closer. But his voice gets softer, like it's just for you.
"It is," he says.
You look up at him then.
His eyes are warm, steady. Not pleading. Not self-pitying. Just... certain. Like he's made peace with this already: that you terrify him and he wants you anyway.
"You... you think I'm out of your league," you say, needing to hear it out loud.
He huffs a quiet laugh. "You are."
It stings and soothes at the same time.
"But that doesn't mean I think I'm... nothing," he adds calmly. "I like who I am. I work hard. I know I'm worth something. I just—" He lifts a shoulder. "I also know that you're... you."
"Is that your big thesis?" you mutter, because your heart is racing and you don't know what to do with it. "I'm 'me'?"
"Yeah," he says, a hint of a grin now. "You're you. You walk into a room and people make up stories about you in their heads. You're intense, and smart, and sharp, and you don't let people in for free. I'd be stupid not to think you're out of my league."
You swallow.
"But I'm still showing up," he says simply. "Because I want to. Because I like you."
The word lands between you like a drop of ink in water, bleeding into everything.
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment.
"Why?" It slips out before you can bite it back. It sounds more raw than you intend. "You don't even know if I'm going to stay. Or if I'll... let you stay."
"I know," he says.
"You're not... scared of that?"
He thinks about it. Really thinks. You can see it in the way his brows draw in, the way his gaze drops briefly to the steps between you, then rises back to your face.
"I'm scared," he admits. "Of getting attached to someone who might push me away. Of caring more than you do. Of misreading everything."
Your chest tightens.
"But I'm more scared," he adds, voice low and honest, "of being near you and pretending I don't care at all."
Your fingers clench around the strap of your bag.
That's what you've been doing. Skirting the edges. Pretending you don't notice the way he remembers your schedule, your coffee order, your moods. Pretending you don't feel safer when you walk out of class together. Pretending your heart doesn't beat a little differently when his name lights up your phone.
"It's not fair," you murmur, hating how small the words sound.
"What's not?" he asks.
"That you're this... good," you say, struggling a little with the admission. "And I'm still— I still don't know if I can—"
"Like me back?" he finishes for you, but there's no bitterness in it.
You shake your head quickly. "It's not that I— I just don't know how to do this without..." Your voice trails off. Without expecting it to end. Without bracing for the drop.
He watches you carefully.
"Can I ask something?" he says.
You almost laugh. "You're going to even if I say no."
He smiles, brief. "Were you jealous?"
The word slices straight through every defense you have.
"I—" Heat crawls up your neck. "That's none of your business."
"It is if it's about me," he says gently. "And if it's about us."
Us.
As if that exists already, in some half-built, undefined way.
You stare at the railing, metal cool under your fingers. "I didn't like it," you mutter. "Seeing her touch you."
His inhale is sharp and quiet.
"I didn't like that she thought she could," you add, even quieter. "Like she had... access."
He's silent for a long moment.
Then, softly: "You have more access to me than anyone."
You let out a humorless breath. "That's your mistake."
He shakes his head. "That's my choice."
The words land heavy in your stomach.
"You should be more careful," you say, but it comes out softer than you intend.
"I am careful," he says. "That's why I'm here. Talking to you. Not pretending you didn't walk away yesterday. Not pretending I didn't notice."
You look up, eyes locking with his.
"I want you to know," he says, voice steady, "that if something makes you uncomfortable, I want to change it. Not because I'm scared you'll leave if I don't. But because I care how you feel. That's... the whole point, isn't it?"
"You make it sound easy," you whisper.
"It's not," he says immediately. "You scare the hell out of me."
You blink.
He smiles, crooked. "You do. You're intense and honest and you look at me like I'm a test I might fail. But in a weird way... that makes me want to pass it even more."
You stare at him, and something loosens in your chest. Just a fraction.
"I don't know if I can promise anything," you say, voice small but clear. "But I... didn't like seeing you with her. And I like..." You swallow hard. "I like you being around. More than I should."
His breath catches, but he keeps his expression gentle, like he's holding something fragile he doesn't want to shatter.
"That's enough," he says quietly. "For now, that's enough."
You search his face, looking for any sign of resentment, of "that's all?" of "after everything?" There's none. Just warmth. Relief. A happiness so careful it almost hurts to look at.
"Okay," you say, because you don't know what else to do with the weight in your chest. "So what now?"
"Now," he says, a hint of playful lightness sliding back into his eyes as if the heaviness didn't just happen, "I walk you to class like I always do. And I try not to stand so close to people who touch my arm without asking."
You snort. "That's your big solution?"
"And," he adds, eyes glinting, "if something bothers you again, you tell me. Before you walk away."
You hesitate.
"Communicate instead of catastrophize," he says. "New policy."
You grimace. "I hate that you made that rhyme."
"You'll remember it," he points out.
You hate that you will.
He takes a small step back, giving you space to straighten up from the wall.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says quietly. "Even if you take your time with this. Especially if you take your time with this."
You look at him, really look, and finally let yourself admit it:
You believe him.
That terrifies you.
It also makes your chest feel... warm.
"Okay," you say, exhaling. "Walk me to class, then."
His smile is soft and bright at the same time.
"Yes, ma'am."
You roll your eyes, but when you fall into step beside him, you let your arm brush his just a little longer than usual.
He notices.
He doesn't say anything.
But his fingers flex once at his side, like he's holding himself back from reaching for you.
For the first time, you think:
Maybe one day I'll let him.
_________
You don't see it, but later, when he's half-asleep in bed with his phone on his chest, Jungwon scrolls back up to your last messages and smiles at the simplest one.
[ you ]
walk me tmrw too
He types and deletes three different answers before settling on:
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
always
He hits send, turns his phone face down, and stares at the ceiling with his heart pounding so hard it's almost embarrassing.
Out of his league?
Absolutely.
But for the first time, he feels like he's not just admiring from afar.
He's in the game.
And you—slowly, stubbornly, reluctantly—have started to let him in.
________
The next time you see Ningning, she waves at both of you in the hallway and grins.
"You guys are always together," she says, amused. "So cute."
You're about to deny it on reflex when you feel Jungwon's eyes on you.
You glance at him.
He doesn't look nervous.
He looks... sure.
"If she's okay with it," he says mildly, "I don't mind people knowing we're close."
Your pulse stutters.
He doesn't look at Ningning when he says it.
He's looking at you.
Your lips part.
"Yeah," you say, surprising yourself with how quickly it comes. "I don't mind."
His smile is small, but you feel it like sunlight.
Ningning just laughs. "Told you he was whipped," she says, and flits off down the hall.
You should be mortified.
Instead, you catch yourself smiling into your coffee cup a few minutes later, and when Jungwon reaches over to straighten the crooked strap of your bag, you don't pull away.
The jealousy hasn't disappeared.
It's just changed shape.
Now it sits beside something else—something scary and gentle and growing slowly on purpose.
Trust.
________
The confession is coming.
You can feel it every time he looks at you a little too long, every time his fingers brush yours when he passes you a pen, every time your phone lights up just to say did you eat? or get home safe.
And when it finally breaks—the night you snap and admit out loud that you didn't like seeing some other girl touching what's yours—you'll both have to stop pretending this is anything less than what it is: Two people choosing each other, all the way.
_______
By the time midterms roll around, people have stopped saying "you and Jungwon" like it's a surprising combination.
You're a matched set now.
You don't remember exactly when it happened, only that one day you realized you'd stopped having to look for him in rooms. He's just there. Outside your classroom, leaning against the wall with his headphones around his neck. In the café, already at your usual table, pushing your coffee across the table without needing to ask your order. In your notifications, a quiet stream of:
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
got home?
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
drink water
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
the prof curve is cruel but i believe in you
It's... a lot.
You're not used to anyone being this consistent.
You're even less used to realizing you've grown dependent on it.
"Admit it," Chaewon says one afternoon, sprawled sideways in your desk chair while you lie on your bed. "If he stopped texting you for a day, you'd be feral."
"I'd be normal," you retort, scrolling through your phone. "Like a regular person with boundaries."
"What did he text you today?"
You don't answer.
She smirks. "Exactly."
You stare at your screen, at the picture he sent earlier—just his hand and a snack on your usual study table, captioned: for u if you don't bail on the library today.
Your heart did something unhelpful when you saw it.
It's been doing that a lot lately.
_________
Campus feels different during festival week.
There are fairy lights strung between trees, food stalls selling things that are slightly overpriced and badly portioned, and groups of students milling around in clusters—laughing, shouting, dragging each other from booth to booth.
You don't usually come to these things.
Too loud. Too messy. Too much pretending to have the time of your life.
But Chaewon is relentless, and Jungwon texted u going tonight? and you stared at the screen for an embarrassingly long time before typing:
[ you ]
if you're there
His reply came in under ten seconds:
[ jungwon 🐾 ]
then i'm there
So now you're walking through strings of colored lights, the air smelling like sugar and spice and something grilling, with Chaewon by your side and your phone buzzing in your pocket.
It's strangely... nice.
"You look hot," Chaewon says casually, licking sauce off her fingers.
You glance down at yourself. You hadn't done anything dramatic; just swapped your usual hoodie-and-jeans armor for a fitted black top, layered necklaces, and a skirt that shows more leg than you usually tolerate in public. Your eyeliner's a little sharper. Your lip balm actually has color in it.
"It's just clothes," you mutter.
"Yeah, and Jungwon is going to ascend when he sees them," she chirps. "There he is."
You follow her gaze.
He's standing near one of the game stalls with Heeseung and a few others, hands in his pockets, laughing at something. The lights catch in his hair. His shirt is simple—white, with the sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms—but it does awful things to your brain.
As if he feels you looking, he turns.
The second his eyes find you, his whole expression changes.
He straightens a little. His smile softens, gets that stupid fond curve you've been pretending not to memorize. His gaze drops to your outfit, just for a second, then darts back up to your face like he's scared of being caught. You start walking before your thoughts can catch up.
"Hey," you say, trying to sound normal.
"Hey," he echoes, sounding absolutely not normal. His eyes are everywhere at once—your hair, your mouth, the rings on your fingers. It's like he's taking a mental photo he's going to replay all week. "You came," he says. "You asked," you counter.
He huffs a small laugh, still a little dazzled. "Fair." Heeseung appears over his shoulder like a badly timed pop-up ad. "Wow," he says, looking between the two of you. "Power couple energy."
"We're not—" you start automatically.
"We're working on it," Heeseung cuts in. "Slow burn. Season two renewal pending." Jungwon elbows him hard enough to make him stumble. "Go away."
"Ow," Heeseung groans, but he's grinning. "Love is violent, I get it." He drifts away to bother someone else, leaving you and Jungwon in a small, brighter bubble of space.
"You look..." Jungwon starts, then goes abruptly silent, like his brain bluescreened mid-sentence.
You raise a brow. "I look...?" His mouth curves. He doesn't drop his gaze this time. "You look like I should've brought more self-control."
Heat shoots straight to your cheeks.
"What does that even mean?" you scoff, but your voice comes out softer than you intend. He shrugs, eyes crinkling. "You're really pretty. More than usual. It's distracting."
You don't know what to do with that, with the way he says it like it's an observation, not a pickup line. Like it's as obvious as the color of the sky.
"Walk with me," you say abruptly, before you can overthink it.
"Always."
_______
You end up at the ring toss stall because Chaewon dragged you there first and then vanished with a shriek when she won a ridiculous stuffed carrot.
Now it's just you and Jungwon, and a line of slightly rigged games.
The stall worker hands him a plastic ring. "Win something for your girlfriend," she says, uninterested.
He glances at you.
Your heart stutters.
"he's not my—" you start, out of habit.
"She is," he says at the exact same time.
The world stutters with you. Your eyes snap to his face. His cheeks are pink, but he doesn't look away. He's not smiling like it's a joke. He's not rushing to correct himself. He just... lets it sit there. The stall worker blinks, oblivious to the internal earthquake she's triggered. "Okay," she says. "Then win something nice."
He lifts his arm, aims, and tosses.
The ring lands perfectly around the neck of a glass bottle, clinking down into place.
"That should not have been hot," you mutter. Jungwon laughs, shoulders loosening in relief. "You can't just say that out loud."
"I can say whatever I want," you reply, because your brain has disconnected from your mouth. He leans slightly closer, voice dropping. "Then say you'll let me call you my girlfriend again."
You look at him. Really look. He's serious. He's also waiting. Not demanding. Not assuming. Just... waiting. Your chest feels too small for your heart. You open your mouth, but before you can answer, a familiar voice cuts in.
"Jungwon?" You close your eyes briefly. Of course. Ningning appears beside you, cheeks flushed from the cold and the games, a small plush tucked under her arm.
"Hey," he says warmly. "Did you win that?"
"Yeah!" She holds it up proudly, then glances between the two of you and grins. "Sorry, am I third-wheeling?"
For once, the ground doesn't tilt under your feet. Jungwon glances at you—quick, instinctive. It's becoming a habit with him, this constant check-in.
"Only if she says so," he says simply.
Ningning raises her brows, amused. "Wow. You really are gone for her, huh?" He doesn't even argue. Heat prickles your ears.
"I'm gonna go find Chaewon," you say suddenly, needing air. "She texted."
You haven't checked your phone.
You start to move, but his fingers brush your wrist.
"Stay?" he says softly. You look down at his hand. He doesn't grip you, doesn't hold you in place. Just touches, like a question. That's what does it. You're tired of walking away and making him chase you just so you don't have to say the quiet part out loud. You're tired of pretending this doesn't terrify you. You're tired of pretending it doesn't also make you... happy. You exhale.
"Five minutes," you say.
His eyes brighten. "I'll take it."
_________
You do end up finding Chaewon eventually, if only because she returns like a homing missile, thrusting a paper cup of something vaguely sweet into your hands.
"Here," she says. "Sugar for your emotional damage."
"I'm not emotionally damaged," you protest. "You're in love," she says. "Same thing." You're about to argue when someone shouts Jungwon's name behind you. You both turn. A group of students has clustered around a makeshift photo wall. Heeseung is in the middle, calling out instructions; Jungwon is off to the side, head ducked as someone shoves a prop into his hands.
"Yang Jungwon, stand there," one of the girls says, grinning. "We need you in the photo, or it loses 50% of its attractiveness." He groans. "Please."
"Don't be shy," another girl says, looping her arm through his. "You're like... campus golden boy. Stand in the middle." You watch her tuck herself a little too close against his side. Last week, that would've felt like a punch.
Tonight, it's... different.
The jealousy is still there, sharp and familiar. But layered over it is something heavier, deeper, built slowly over late-night texts and stairwell conversations and a boy who looked you in the eye and said, I'm choosing you. You're not questioning if he wants them. You're questioning whether you're brave enough to claim what you already know is yours.
He looks up then, searching. His gaze skims over the crowd, the lights, the camera—and lands on you. Everyone around him is laughing, jostling, pulling him into place. But in that second, it's like the scene mutes. His eyes go soft and focused, relief flashing across his face like he's been holding his breath and you're the exhale. You don't move. You don't look away. He smiles. Not the polite one, not the one he gives to the group. The private one. The one that says, I see you. One of the girls notices. "Is that your girlfriend?" she asks, half-teasing, following his line of sight.
He doesn't hesitate. "Yeah," he says. The air leaves your lungs.
Someone whistles. Someone else laughs. Heeseung whoops loudly from the other side of the group.
"Oh my god," Chaewon whispers. "Finally." Your heart is racing so hard you can feel it in your fingertips.
He disentangles himself from the cluster with a quick apology, handing the prop to someone else. "Take it without me," he says. "I'm busy."
"You're whipped!" Heeseung yells.
"Yup," Jungwon calls back, not denying it. He walks straight to you, nerves visible in the way he presses his lips together once, like he's bracing for impact. You stare at him.
"You just lied to everyone," you say, but your voice doesn't have any real bite.bHe shakes his head. "Did I?" You swallow. He stops in front of you, leaving just enough distance that you could step back if you wanted to. You don't.
"If that made you uncomfortable, I'll fix it," he says immediately. "I'll tell them I was kidding, or that I spoke too fast, or—"
"It didn't," you cut in. He blinks. "It didn't make me uncomfortable," you repeat, slower this time, so you can hear yourself say it. "It just... surprised me." "Good surprise or bad?" he asks quietly.
Your heart crawls up into your throat.
"Good," you admit. Something in his expression softens completely.
"Okay," he breathes. "Then I'm going to be honest, and if you hate it, you're allowed to tell me to shut up."
You roll your eyes, but it's weak. "You never shut up when I tell you to."
"That's because you say it when you're flustered," he says. "Which is cute."
Your cheeks burn.
He takes a breath.
"I like you," he says.
You know this. You've known this. Everyone with eyes has known this. But hearing it, plain and undesguised, knocks something loose in your chest.
"I liked you when you wouldn't even look at me," he continues, voice steady. "When you pretended you didn't see me staring. When you acted like I was just some guy in your row. I liked you when you snapped at me for giving you an extra pen."
"That was annoying," you mutter.
"I know," he says, lips twitching. "I did it anyway."
Your fingers tighten around your cup.
"I thought you were out of my league the first time I saw you," he says. "You walked into class and sat like you OWNED that seat, and everybody else rearranged themselves around you like they could feel it. And yeah, I thought, 'Wow, she's way too much for me.'"
You look away, heart pounding.
"But then I realized 'too much' is exactly what I want," he goes on gently. "I don't want someone who's easy to read or easy to leave. I want someone who scares me a little. Someone who makes me want to be better because I'm standing next to her."
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid like why are you like this.
"So yeah," he says. "I think you're out of my league. And I'm still here. Because I like you. A lot. And I'm not going anywhere just because that terrifies me." Silence stretches between you, filled with the roar of your pulse and the distant noise of the festival. You could run. You could make a joke. You could ask him to give you time, to slow down, to let you stick your head in the sand a little longer. Instead, for once, you choose the option that feels like standing still. "I was jealous," you say. His eyes flicker.
"That day with Ningning," you clarify, because you're already in freefall and you might as well commit. "And today. With... everyone." His throat bobs.
"I didn't like watching them touch you," you admit, voice low. "I didn't like them acting like they had a right to pull you around, or call you theirs, or make jokes like you're up for grabs. I hated it." He stares at you like you hung the stars and then told him his name is written in them.
"I hated it," you repeat, a little breathless now, "because you've been... mine. In my head. For a while. And I don't know what to do with that."
For a second, you think he might actually pass out. Then he smiles. Not the soft, slow one he usually gives you. A brighter one. Something like relief, joy, and something else you don't dare name all at once.
"Okay," he whispers. "That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."
"That I'm deranged and territorial?" you say weakly.
"That you think I'm yours," he corrects. Your hands are shaking a little. "I'm... scared," you say, because it feels dishonest not to. "I know," he says. "I don't know how to do this without waiting for it to end."
His eyes are so, so gentle. "Then we'll do it scared," he says. "And if it ends one day, we'll deal with it then. But I don't want to lose what we could have just because we're scared of losing it later." "That sounds like something from a bad Pinterest quote," you say, but your voice is wobbling. He laughs softly. "Yeah. But it's also how I feel."
You take a breath that feels like the first real one in weeks. "Ask me again," you say. He tilts his head. "Again?"
"What you told them," you clarify. "Say it to me. For real." Understanding dawns slowly over his face, followed by awe, like he can't believe he gets to do this. He takes a tiny step closer, until you can feel the heat of him in the cool night.
"Can I call you my girlfriend?" he asks, voice barely above a murmur. Your heart squeezes so hard it aches.
"Yes," you say. His breath leaves him in a soft, disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah?" he asks, as if making sure you're not about to snatch it back.
You nod, pulse hammering. "Yeah."
He looks like someone just handed him the sun.
"Okay," he says, almost to himself. "Okay." And then he reaches for you.
Not roughly. Not suddenly. His hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing your cheek, giving you time to lean in or step away. You lean in. His thumb strokes once along your jaw, like he's committing the angle to memory.
"I'm going to kiss you," he says quietly. "Is that okay?"
You might actually combust.
"Yeah," you breathe. "That's... okay."
He smiles, small and awed. "Okay."
The first touch of his mouth to yours is softer than you expected. You thought he'd be nervous, clumsy, maybe overly careful. Instead, he kisses you like he's been thinking about this for months and doesn't want to waste a second—but also like he'd be perfectly content to stay right here forever, doing only this. His lips are warm and a little tentative at first, asking, not taking. He tastes faintly like sugar and citrus. His hand stays cupping your jaw, holding you like something precious. You kiss him back.
The world narrows to the press and slide of mouths, the quiet puff of his breath against your skin, the way his fingers flex just slightly when you angle your head and pull him a little closer by the front of his shirt. Something hungry flickers between you then. His fingers tighten at your waist. The kiss deepens, just a fraction—still soft, still careful, but with a new urgency threaded through it, like you've both been standing on the edge of something and finally, finally stepped forward. You feel his heartbeat where your hand rests on his chest, thudding just as wildly as yours.
"Wait," you whisper against his mouth, pulling back half an inch. He freezes instantly.
"Too much?" he asks, breathing hard, eyes searching your face. You shake your head, dizzy. "No. Just... not here." His gaze darkens, just a little. "Okay," he says, voice low.
________
You end up in his room because it's closer and because your feet move there like they've been waiting for that destination all night.
Heeseung is, mercifully, not around. There's a sweater thrown over the back of a chair, an open textbook on the desk, and a string of cheap fairy lights along one wall that cast everything in a soft, hazy glow. You stand in the middle of it, suddenly hyper-aware of your body, your heartbeat, your mouth, everything. Jungwon closes the door gently behind you.
"I can make tea," he says, because of course he does. "Or water. Or we can just sit. Or I can shut up and you can tell me what you want." You turn to look at him.
He's flushed, hair a little messy, lips pink from your lip balm and his. His shirt is a little wrinkled where your fingers grabbed it earlier. You cross the small space between you and grab his collar again.
"I want," you say, "you to kiss me." Relief floods his features. "That I can do."
The second kiss is less tentative. You back into it together, laughing once into each other's mouths when you bump noses. His hands find your waist, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your top, holding you firm but gentle. When you tilt your head, he follows, matching your pace, your pressure. You're not used to this, to being the one who pulls someone closer instead of pushing them away. But with him, it feels... easy. Like breathing. Like you've been holding your breath for months and only just remembered how to let go.
His back hits the edge of his bed. He breaks the kiss on a gasp, smiling, and sits down, pulling you down with him so you're straddling one of his thighs, your knees pressed into the mattress, your hands braced on his shoulders.
You blink down at him, dazed. His hands slide from your waist to your hips, fingers splayed, holding you like he's not sure you're real. "Is this okay?" he asks, voice rougher than you've ever heard it.
You nod, breathing hard. "Yeah." His eyes flick down to your mouth and back up, slow.
"Tell me if anything isn't," he says. "I mean it." Your chest does that warm, aching thing again. "Okay," you say softly. "You too." He huffs a breath that might be a laugh, then leans up to kiss you again. It's different at this angle—more intense, somehow. You feel his breath against your tongue when your lips part, feel the way his fingers tighten on your hips when you shiver. You feel everything.
You're hyper-aware of the heat where your bodies meet, of the way your skirt's ridden up just a little, of the way his thigh is solid beneath you, the pressure sending little sparks up your spine every time you shift. You don't move much. You don't have to.
His hands stroke tentative circles over your hips, your lower back, always above the fabric, always waiting for any sign you're uncomfortable. His mouth traces the shape of yours like he's memorizing it, like he doesn't want to miss a single detail.
"God," he murmurs against your lips, breaking away just enough to speak. His eyes are dark and blown wide, but there's nothing ugly in them. Just awe. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?" You swallow, heart hammering.
"Maybe a little," you say, because his leg is very much right there. He laughs, the sound breathless and warm, and presses his forehead to yours. "You're going to kill me."
You smile, genuinely, helplessly. "You're the one who begged to be my boyfriend." "Worth it," he says without missing a beat.
Your hand slips from his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He shivers. "Do you want to keep going?" you ask, surprising both of you with how steady you sound.
His breath stutters. "I want..." He swallows. His hands flex at your waist. "I want whatever you want. I want to make you feel good. But I also want to go as slow as you need. So you tell me, okay? You call it."
Your stomach flips at the phrasing—like he's handing the wheel to you even though you're sitting in his lap. You think about how his eyes followed you in the hallway. You think about him saying I want you even if you only ever look at me like I'm temporary and then still choosing to stay.
You think about how scared you were of this exact moment—and how now that you're in it, the fear is still there, but it's outnumbered by something else. Want. “Okay," you whisper. "Then... don't stop yet."
His answering smile is all teeth and tenderness. "As you wish," he says, and leans in again.
_______
His lips are back on yours in seconds—hungrier now, but still careful, still reverent like he's trying to earn every gasp from your mouth one by one. You can feel the restraint in him, taut like a string—his fingers flexing against your waist, the way his breath stutters when your hips shift just a little against his thigh. He breaks away only long enough to look at you, lips swollen, breath shallow.
"Baby," he murmurs, voice low and shaking just slightly. "You're... fuck, you're grinding on me.”
Your mouth parts, heat shooting straight between your legs. Because yeah—yeah, you are. Slowly, barely, but your body's already moving on instinct, needing friction, needing him.
"I know," you whisper, your voice smaller, needier than you mean it to be. "It feels good."
He groans, head tipping back, neck exposed and tempting. "You're gonna kill me," he laughs, but it's breathless, reverent. "You're so fucking pretty like this, sitting on me like you own it." His hands tighten at your hips, guiding your movement, letting you roll against him, slow and controlled, letting the pressure build right where you need it.
"Look at you," he breathes. "So worked up, and I've barely even touched you."
You whimper, a soft broken sound as his thigh tenses beneath you. He leans in again, lips brushing your ear. "You gonna let me touch you now, pretty girl?" he murmurs, voice rich and low. "Let me make you feel even better?"
You nod, shakily.
"Use your words," he says, and there's that edge now—that tone, firm but sweet, the one that makes your spine shiver.
"Yes," you breathe. "I want—please, touch me."
"Mmh." He kisses just below your jaw. "That's better."
His hands slide up your thighs, slow and warm, trailing beneath your skirt. His fingers don't move higher—yet—just teasing, just grazing along your skin as his lips drag down your neck.
"You've been needing this, haven't you?" he says softly, one hand cupping the side of your face. "All that attitude... you just needed to be taken care of, baby?"
You whimper again, because fuck, it's true. He pulls back just enough to look at you. "Can I taste you?"
Your stomach drops. Your thighs instinctively squeeze around his, and he groans at the feeling. You nod, breath trembling. "Please." He kisses you again, slower this time, like reward. His hands slide down, lifting you gently.
"Up here," he whispers, guiding you onto the bed, backing up until he's sitting comfortably against the pillows. "Come sit on my face." You freeze, breath caught in your throat.
He sees it, immediately softening. "Hey, you don't have to if you're nervous," he says quickly. "We don't have to do anything—just grinding, whatever you want, I swear."
You shake your head. "I want to." His breath catches.
You crawl forward, heart hammering in your chest as you straddle his chest, your knees braced on either side of him. His hands stroke up your thighs, soothing.
"God, baby," he whispers. "Look at you. I've never wanted anything more."
His voice turns lower, almost reverent now. "Take these off for me?" You nod, fingers sliding under your panties, tugging them down slowly. He watches, absolutely transfixed, his hands flexing where they rest on your thighs. You toss them aside, your thighs trembling slightly as you move up—knees sliding higher until you're hovering just over his mouth.
"Fuck," he whispers, eyes dark and full of want. "Sit. Please. I need to taste this pussy."
_____
His hands slide up your thighs—firm, steady—until they're gripping your hips, coaxing you down, like he needs you to sit, like he's been starving for this.
"You're shaking," he whispers, voice low and reverent, eyes flicking between your slick, swollen folds and your flushed face above him. "But you're so wet for me, baby. You want this, don't you?"
You nod, chest heaving, knees tense where they press into the mattress beside his head. But he doesn't let you stay hovering.
"Don't be shy," he murmurs, tone thick with want. "You're not too heavy. I want you right here—on my tongue, dripping all over my face."
Then he pulls you down. Your thighs close around his head on instinct the second his mouth touches you—hot, wet, eager—tongue flattening against your pussy like he's tasting something he's craved for years. He groans into you, arms wrapping under your thighs now, holding you in place as he devours you. Not soft. Not tentative. He licks you like he means to ruin you.
And fuck, it's so much. Your head tips back immediately, mouth falling open in a choked moan as his tongue strokes up your slit—slow and deliberate, from your entrance to your clit—and then circles, slow and teasing, over the swollen nub. You grind down without meaning to, needing more friction, more pressure, and he grunts in approval beneath you.
"There you go," he pants between licks. "Use me, baby. Just like that." His tongue drags over your clit again, again, again—sloppy, filthy sounds filling the room as he sucks you into his mouth, lips sealing around your clit like it's the only thing he's ever wanted.
You cry out, thighs shaking on either side of his face. "Jungwon—fuck—" He moans against you, like he loves hearing his name from your mouth like that.
Then one hand leaves your thigh and slides between your legs, and you feel his fingers before you see them—two of them, thick and warm, sliding through your slick, teasing your entrance.
"So wet," he groans. "All this for me?" You can't even answer.
He slides a finger in—slow, just one, curling up as he works his mouth over your clit again—and your whole body arches forward. You whimper, grinding down again as he adds a second, stretching you open, his fingers moving in smooth, deep strokes, tongue flicking in tandem with each curl.
"You like that?" he says, voice muffled beneath you. "You like my fingers inside your pretty pussy while you ride my face?" You whine, high and needy, hips rolling down to chase the pressure.
"That's it," he groans. "Take what you need, baby. Fuck yourself on my mouth. Let me taste every fucking drop."
You don't even realize you're grinding harder until his fingers curl and hit that spot, and you scream, gasping as the coil in your belly twists tighter and tighter.
"Gonna cum for me?" he pants, fucking you deep with his fingers, his tongue messy and relentless on your clit. "Come on, baby—cum on my face. Show me how good I make you feel." You break. Your thighs squeeze around his head, your entire body trembling as the orgasm rips through you—loud, uncontrollable, wet—and he moans like he's drinking you down, like he wants to drown in the way you fall apart.
He doesn't stop. Not until your hips jerk back, overstimulated, and your breath stutters out in broken sobs of pleasure. Only then does he ease up, mouth still trailing kisses along your trembling inner thighs, lips smeared with your slick. You're still sitting on his chest, panting hard, your skin flushed and glowing, and when you look down at him—his hair messy, lips wet, face fucked-out and adoring—you nearly collapse all over again.
"Jesus," you whisper.
He grins, breathless. "Nah. Just your boyfriend." You laugh—and it's half-delirious, half-shaky—but you believe him. He reaches up, thumb brushing your hip. "Come here, baby. Let me hold you."
And when you slide down into his arms, still shaking, he wraps you up like he always does—gentle, quiet, constant. You press your face into his neck and feel him kiss the top of your head.
"I told you," he whispers. "I'm not going anywhere."
_______
His arms wrap around you the second your body sinks into his chest—strong, warm, trembling just like yours. You're still panting, still wet, still high from how hard he pulled you apart on his tongue, and he holds you like something delicate, precious. Like something he's never letting go of.
He shifts slightly to lay back on the bed with you half on top of him, his fingers trailing lazy circles into your bare thigh, the other hand still resting over your lower back like a promise.
And then you realize—
you're crying.
Just a few tears, hot and sudden, sliding quietly down your cheek as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
You don't even know why at first. The orgasm, the overwhelming closeness, the way he kept checking in even while worshipping you like his personal religion. It all crashes down at once, too much and too gentle and too good.
You feel seen. You feel wanted. You feel safe. And your body doesn't know what to do with it—so it breaks in the softest way possible.
"Shit," you whisper against his skin, blinking hard. "I'm—fuck, I'm sorry."
"What? No," he breathes, instantly tightening his grip on you. "No, hey—what's wrong?"
You shake your head, voice thick. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just..."
He pulls back to see your face, his hand coming up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb swiping under your eye. "You're crying."
"I know," you say, biting your lip hard. "I'm not sad, I just... no one's ever touched me like that. Not just the sex—this. You made me feel like..."
You hesitate.
His brows furrow, lips soft with concern. "Like what?"
Your voice cracks. "Like I mattered. Like I'm not too much."
He freezes.
And then he lets out a shaky breath—and his eyes go glassy too.
"Fuck," he whispers, his thumb still brushing your cheek, his other hand tightening around your waist. "That's all I wanted. That's all I ever wanted to do. To make you feel that."
You let out a breathless laugh, the kind that trembles more than it lifts.
"I've never felt it before," you whisper.
His throat works hard. You watch as one tear slips from the corner of his eye and trails down his temple.
You blink at it. "Wait—are you crying?"
He laughs, choked and breathless, trying to brush it away with the back of his hand. "No."
"You are," you say, stunned. He grabs a pillow and covers his face. "Fuck, don't look. I'm not crying. I'm rugged. I'm feral. I just ate pussy like a god, this is ruining my brand."
You laugh again, watery and wrecked and delighted, pulling the pillow off his face so you can kiss him. It's slower now, quieter. Your lips are swollen, and his mouth is warm and familiar, and when you shift slightly to curl against his chest, he lets you, his arms closing around you without hesitation.
You can still feel him trembling.
"I just love you," he murmurs suddenly, like the words slipped out without permission—but he doesn't take them back. He presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't mean to say it first. I wanted it to be a whole thing. But—fuck, I do. I love you."
You stare at him, your heart wide open now, broken apart and filled up in the same breath.
"I love you too," you whisper. The smile that breaks across his face is soft, disbelieving, shining.
And when he kisses you again—wet mouths, swollen lips, both of you tear-streaked and undone—it's not about heat anymore. It's about knowing. About holding. About never letting go.
And neither of you does.
________
perm taglist - @yourislandgirl @luvr4gyu @staarflowerr @whattlulu @chae-rries @mariegibeau @wonuziex @iris65 @toastmenace @saraabbas @kaykay11sworld @en-boyz @strawberrykkk1 @nshmrarki @xoseos @rosepetalsO9 @candidupped @choeryyxyz @pebblejazz @123hees @wonniesjungdimple @jenlunes @h3esdo11 @leesayyy @choeryyxyz @diameuwu @wonniesluvr24 @ddeonuswife
© si3rren 2025. all rights reserved.
need this irl plsplsplsplsplsplsplspls
𝔯ock, 𝔭aper, 𝔰cissors… 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩! 🥢 choi beomgyu ˊˎ-
( 투바투 ) gyu x frea. ⋆ 1157fluff, drabble .ᐟlanguage 🪨✂️
back4more 레크?no 🧂 for my gyu girlies ( @yudaies )
You rested your head against the window, letting a sigh spread past your lips for what felt like the hundredth time to the person in the driver's seat. You knew you weren’t exactly the most patient—not when it didn’t matter, that is—and it was blatantly obvious to anyone and everyone you’ve ever met; You liked to jump headfirst into things, fear not being something that could hold you down the same way gravity did.
Your friend, who was the chauffeur for the few milliseconds she could take her foot off the brake, laughed, glancing in your direction. Her lips pouted pitifully at your exasperated sound, causing you to gently push her shoulder. She dramatically gasped, gripping the wheel tight enough to flush her knuckles.
"I could've fucking crashed!"
You waved your hand in exaggeration, shouting, “We’re not fucking moving!” showing off the bumper-to-bumper traffic that was miles on end, at least.
She curtly chuckled, almost soullessly, “Oh… yeah. We aren’t, are we?”
Your lips pressed into a straight line, shaking your head in response, “I think I’ve dedicated that Ford Focus’ license plate to memory.”
She made an amused sound, like she could relate, “Hopefully they never commit a crime.”
Almost as if it was a bad habit, another sigh rolled off your tongue, your entire body having a reaction to the force. You whined, “How much longer, you think?”
"Entertain yourself!" She replied, obviously treading a thin line between irritation and solidarity, "Play a damn game or something."
"Like what?" You dragged out, sliding further down the leather and crossing your arms.
"You’re truly the worst person to be stuck in traffic with, yn, you know that? Find something."
You bit your lip, taking the hint, and mumbling out a weak, "Okay." If your phone hadn’t died, and if the charger hadn’t started on fire (literally) the other day while you were driving, you would’ve just watched YouTube, or the race you needed to catch up on. But, here you were, bored out of your mind, sitting in traffic with the most irritable person at your side—but you truthfully wouldn’t trade her, or your experiences for the world.
Concluding you couldn’t do anything fun in the car… safely, you looked out the window. Maybe you could play the alphabet game, or the license plate one. But then reality struck: You weren’t moving. How would you see anything different while stationary?
You grunted, earning a huffed-out scoff from your friend.
Then it struck you, “I know!” You shouted suddenly, making her jump, seemingly easing her irritation, as she let out a soft laugh, taking a hand off the wheel.
"Oh?" She quizzed, watching as you rolled down the window. There was a black-haired man, who couldn’t be much older than you—if not the same age. His head was resting on his palm, propped up by the frame of the door, while the other loosely gripped the steering wheel.
He looked just as bored as you.
“Hey!” You shouted, trying to gather his attention. It didn’t work, but you tried again despite the setback. He didn’t look—it must’ve been because his window was rolled up, and he probably had music playing, like a normal person in traffic did. However, you weren’t feeling particularly normal, debating on climbing out the window and knocking to get what you wanted.
Nonetheless, you opted for waving your hands as if you were in distress.
He did a double-take, giving a very, very, confused look. Holy shit. You stopped your hands abruptly, swearing that you didn’t mean to stare like you were. But he was just so… pretty.
Pushing it aside as a residual effect of boredom, you pointed to get him to roll the window down. He hesitantly did, letting a small smile adorn his lips. To which you could’ve 100% blushed at. And maybe you did.
“Hi!” You greeted, and he furrowed his eyebrows, laughing softly. Maybe he didn’t understand what the Hell had to be wrong with you to start a conversation with a stranger… in the middle of traffic.
“Hey,”
“Do you want to play Rock, Paper, Scissors?”
He pondered for a second, giving himself another small chuckle before looking out through the windshield. He must’ve realized you’d be stuck behind the never-ending pile-up for some time. As he looked back, making your heart almost jump out of your ribcage in anticipation. Then, he shrugged.
Some build up.
“Yeah, sure,” You watched as he rolled the window completely down, sticking his hands out in the iconic form, “why not?”
“Oh my God!” You copied his mannerisms, “Yay!” Then, your eyes narrowed, “You say shoot, though, right?”
“I’m not a psychopath,” He nodded, “Would that have been a deal breaker?”
As if he couldn’t get any more perfect, you thought, the sundowning making his skin radiate an alluring presence. You wondered who he was, and if you’d ever get the chance to see him again after… you beat his ass in this children's game, that is.
Maybe nothing would be a deal breaker.
“Okay, rock,” Both your closed fists smacked against your opposite open palm, “paper, scissors… shoot!”
The stranger was holding out a flat hand—paper—and you had yours in a sideways V shape—scissors—meaning you won the round.
You cheered, pumping your fist into the air.
His facade faded, and you began to see a little more of his personality. “You cheated!”
Your hands flew to your chest, “Not me, I—”
He eyed you, remarking, “I don’t know how yet, but you did.” Then he put his hands into the ready position, making you huff and roll your eyes. Nonetheless, you played again, winning… again.
You watched in amusement as he slumped into the driver's seat, “How are you this bad? Usually I'm the one who never wins.”
But before he had a chance to reply, a look of disbelief at your audacity, traffic moved a little bit forward. You jumped at the sudden acceleration from your friend, arms shooting back into the car.
You turned to her, “He’s cute,” She admitted. And you couldn’t exactly deny it—being taken aback when he first turned. His lips moved, but you swore you heard nothing, his face too loud.
“Sucks that he’s literally terrible at a kids game though. I knew it was too good to be t—”
She scoffed amusedly, “That’s rich coming from you, yn.”
Your immediate reaction was to deadpan at the girl, all emotion draining from your once upturned features.
“Hey!” You heard being voiced, your friend then pointing out the still open window. The car had come to a halt again, luckily it was still next to the handsome stranger.
“Oh,” Your smile inevitably came back, “Hi… you?”
“Beomgyu,”
“Yn”
“Well, yn, let’s play again. I won’t let you win this time.” He readied his hands after making sure the vehicles in front of him weren’t moving anymore. “And, do you think I could have your number?”
@mystarsohee @seomisaho @chwesun @slytherinshua @bbangbies @atzlordz @wonkieriduel @minkilicious @takoyari @chenlezip @luvs4haechan @kstrucknet @blossomnet @starlit-network @moadiarynet @k-films @onedreamnet
manifesting this irl 🙏
Stream's Girlfriend (No! My girlfriend)
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 Gamer! Streamer! Beomgyu x Fem! Reader ─── 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 873 eight hundred seventy three ─── 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 Fluff Slice of Life Crack treated Seriously ─── 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 Just a regular day of Beomgyu's stream terrorizing him while his girlfriend watches on in barely hidden amusement ─── 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 words 'R.I.P. / Killing / Dead' used - the game 'Peak' - twitch chat mimic - chat claiming reader
── ⋆⋅❀ ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ❀ ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ❀⋅⋆ ──
You carefully stepped into your apartment, catious to not be picked up in the background of your boyfriend's livestream. Sighing as you let your body relaxed in the comfort of your home. Kicking off your shoes, you walked deeper into the apartment, more than ready to change out of your work clothes. You passed by the room, quickly looking in, snickering at your boyfriend's frantic screams.
[BRO!! Heeseung goated.] ⸝⸝ [rip jeongin] ⸝⸝ [poor innie fr!] ⸝⸝ [WAIT DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT SHADOW!!?!] ⸝⸝ [pretty sure theyre lost again] ⸝⸝ [innie's ghost is KILLING ME!!] ⸝⸝ [yes i saw that bro] ⸝⸝ [wait, what??] ⸝⸝ [we are not making the peak] ⸝⸝ [*sniff sniff* shadow in the back. you mean my girlfriend?!] ⸝⸝ [not alive at least! *laughing emoji] ⸝⸝ [wtf is some of yall talking about?!] ⸝⸝ [hold on user i think you mean our girlfriend]
Coming back, you stop in the doorway of the room. Beomgyu is hunched over in concertation, screaming into his mic. "NOO I FELL INTO POISON!!" You giggle as you observe him and his screen.
[calling it now. ghost gyu making a comeback] ⸝⸝ [OMFG MY GIRLFRIEND!!!! HI GIRLFRIEND] ⸝⸝ [if they get past tropics this playthrough, i'll be shocked] -- [girlfriend?!] ⸝⸝ [OH how i missed you girlfriend!] ⸝⸝ [new fan, wtf is that behind him?] ⸝⸝ [rip beomgyu] -- [heeseung & lix leaving him for dead *laughing emoji*] ⸝⸝ [didn't even try to save bro *skull*] ⸝⸝ [who cares, girlfriend is here] ⸝⸝ [gyu get off my screen]
Beomgyu finally turns his attention to his chat, no longer needing to fight for his virtual life. "What are you guys going crazy about?" he askes, noticing the rapid influx of all-cap comments. He reads through a few more, still oblivious to your presence in the room -- probably in the entire apartment. "Girlfriend?" Beomgyu's eyebrows furrow in confusion. His face lighting up as he finally notices you in the background of his stream. Spinning quickly in his chair, your boyfriend spreads out his arms in greeting. You giggle more as you step into the room and his arms, settling into his lap happily. "How was your day?" Beomgyu hums happily while nuzzling his nose against your cheek.
"Good...for the most part," you said, leaning your head on top of his. Beomgyu's hand runs up and down your back in a soothing manner.
"Tired?"
"A little."
[they're so sweet together~ ㅠㅠ] ⸝⸝ [ay yo beomgyu get off my girlfriend like that!] ⸝⸝ [godddd i love my parents!~] ⸝⸝ [THAT SHOULD BE ME!!] ⸝⸝ [HOLDING YOUIR HAND] ⸝⸝ [add another tally to the justin bieber song board] ⸝⸝ [y/ngyu couple goals *heart face emoji*]
"You want me to get off?" Beomgyu askes, moving the two of you closer to his desk. His fingers already clicking around.
"No, it's okay," you shake your head, messing up his hair.
[my girlfriend's so sweet] ⸝⸝ [just loveeee our girlfriend]
With your reassurance, Beomgyu looked back to his screen. Felix and Heeseung working through the game's greenery and the lines of comments popped up on it. His eyes scoured through them, his signature pout forming as he did. He tighened his arms around your waist as he glared at the chat. "Your girlfriend?" Beomgyu questioned in false disgust, one of his eyebrows raised toward the camera. You bite at your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile, already knowing what would come next. "My Girl. Friend." He childishly spoke, enuthicating each syllable, to the camera. Then turning slightly, Beomgyu proceeds to hid you from the viewers with his body. Despite, neither of you being able to see the entourage of comments, the both of you very were aware of the words spilling in. Beomgyu turned his head back to them, sticking his tongue out to the them, futhering his childish actions. Your laugh broke through your lips, leaning into your boyfriend's shoulder as it rocked through your body. "Y/N, tell them," he says, bumping you to look at the camera. You bite another smile with a michevious glint as you do so.
"Hmm, I don't know,~" you tease the male as you pretend to think. "I think I've got enough love for you and the stream." Beomgyu's jaw drops in shock as he stares up at you. You're giggling uncontrollably in his arms, watching his reaction through the stream on his computer. Adding flame to the fire, you begin blowing kisses to the viewers. Beomgyu now pouts up at you, his bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated manner. You giggle even more as you stare back down at him. Bringing your hand up to the side of his head, you lightly caress his face. You lean down, brushing your lips against his in an soft kiss. "I'm joking~," you tell Beomgyu before pressing another on him. "Of course, I'm only your girlfriend," you reassure your boyfriend. Beomgyu smiles against your pressed lips.
"That's what I thought," He says, looking smugly at his stream before leaning up to land a longer kiss on you.
"Show off," You joke as the two of you pull away. Beomgyu only smirks back in response, proud of himself, as he leans back in his chair.
—.☘︎ ݁˖—
𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜
i'm pretty sure i've had the gamer bf! beomgyu draft idea waiting since the gaming episode pictured. for a time frame reference, he was originally supposed to be playing a horror game - i think it was poppy playtime 3 (the one with bloby(?)) and before that i had an idea for dti but it was changed to peak cause i, like a steamer beomgyu would, am keeping up with the trends. [i don't really game, i just watch]
genre fluff , established relationship , timestamp , beomgyu x fem!reader cw none wc 364 request yes note i love soft moments like this :( the kind of love i need net @kstrucknet @onedreamnet
23:41 . . . Beomgyu’s messy hair covered his forehead and eyes, but you could still feel his gaze on you.
His body relaxed completely, head resting on his arm outstretched on the table, fingers in your hold. You were laser-focused on his hands, a small nail polish applicator in your right hand applying another thin layer across the nail on his thumb. Your boyfriend always let you paint his nails in the evenings before bed, even if he had to remove it a few days later for work. It was more about the moment than the end result. He would keep whatever you painted on, even if you claimed you messed up, or the design wasn’t as pretty as you wanted. On days he wasn’t filming, he liked the little reminder of you, even if it was only expressed through a shiny black polish.
Your careful fingers rubbed a spot where the polish had gotten on his finger before moving to the next nail. You had already completed the first two coats of black on his right hand, and Beomgyu was nearly falling asleep already. He couldn’t really help it when your touch was so soothing. He had to keep completely still for you anyway, and drowsiness set in quickly whenever that happened.
“I’m gonna add stars to your ring fingers,” you announced as you finished painting his left pinky finger. He hummed in acknowledgement. You had been practicing your stars recently on your own hands. Beomgyu remembered noting the pastel star design of your nails last week. They were a bit blob-like as you were still struggling a bit with the smallest detail brush, but you were quickly improving. He was more than willing to be your practice subject.
“Do you want white or silver stars?”
He lifted his head at your question as you held out two different bottles of polish. Beomgyu nudged the white one silently, smiling when you picked up his hand again. Your fingers tapped thoughtfully against his knuckles as you rummaged for the right nail art brush. He let his head fall again, eyes blinking shut. You’d have to wake him up once your masterpiece was finished.
txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @yudaies,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot,, @i03jae,, @lilbrorufr,, @tmrwsuns,, @sea-moon-star,, @hanwoolvhs
𝟏𝐯𝟏
⤷ ゛ ⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝓼treamer!𝓫eomgyu × 𝒇em!𝓻eader ˎˊ˗
₊˚⊹ ᰔ │ smau, crack, fluff, cursing, kys/kms jokes, beomgyu is a big time streamer and reader is a smaller streamer.
⟶ [ 𝐤𝐚𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ] hello and happy anniversary to this account! i hope you enjoy this treat, & for sticking with me. thank you! ♡ ︎ [ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢 ]
reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!
genre fluff , established relationship , timestamp , beomgyu x fem!reader cw none wc 364 request yes note i love soft moments like this :( the kind of love i need net @kstrucknet @onedreamnet
23:41 . . . Beomgyu’s messy hair covered his forehead and eyes, but you could still feel his gaze on you.
His body relaxed completely, head resting on his arm outstretched on the table, fingers in your hold. You were laser-focused on his hands, a small nail polish applicator in your right hand applying another thin layer across the nail on his thumb. Your boyfriend always let you paint his nails in the evenings before bed, even if he had to remove it a few days later for work. It was more about the moment than the end result. He would keep whatever you painted on, even if you claimed you messed up, or the design wasn’t as pretty as you wanted. On days he wasn’t filming, he liked the little reminder of you, even if it was only expressed through a shiny black polish.
Your careful fingers rubbed a spot where the polish had gotten on his finger before moving to the next nail. You had already completed the first two coats of black on his right hand, and Beomgyu was nearly falling asleep already. He couldn’t really help it when your touch was so soothing. He had to keep completely still for you anyway, and drowsiness set in quickly whenever that happened.
“I’m gonna add stars to your ring fingers,” you announced as you finished painting his left pinky finger. He hummed in acknowledgement. You had been practicing your stars recently on your own hands. Beomgyu remembered noting the pastel star design of your nails last week. They were a bit blob-like as you were still struggling a bit with the smallest detail brush, but you were quickly improving. He was more than willing to be your practice subject.
“Do you want white or silver stars?”
He lifted his head at your question as you held out two different bottles of polish. Beomgyu nudged the white one silently, smiling when you picked up his hand again. Your fingers tapped thoughtfully against his knuckles as you rummaged for the right nail art brush. He let his head fall again, eyes blinking shut. You’d have to wake him up once your masterpiece was finished.
txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @yudaies,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot,, @i03jae,, @lilbrorufr,, @tmrwsuns,, @sea-moon-star,, @hanwoolvhs
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔
IN WHICH after waking up to a song playing outside of your window as if you were in a corny romance movie, you get to meet Choi Beomgyu, a boy so desperately in love that he drove across town to confess his love, just to find out he did so outside of the wrong house.
pairing– Choi Beomgyu x fem!reader
featuring– txt members, original characters, Heeseung and Jake of enhypen
genre– fluff, angst, suggestive — mature talks, topics, but no explicit smut
contains– band member!Beomgyu, nerd!Beomgyu, nerd!reader, school setting BUT EVERYONE IS OF AGE, reader works at a convenience store, Beomgyu has a crush on someone else at first, party + drinking on said party, reader lives with her parents, both parents mentioned, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, reader is able to play basketball, reader wearing a skirt, 10 things I hate about you mentions
word count– 18.2k
↪ izzy speaks... ahh my baby is finally here! I love writing fluff, it's how I was made to be—a girl that writes happy stories. I really think serenade is a cute one, and I'm so glad I decided to do it with Beomgyu, my love <3 I want to say thank you to Mae again for helping me with editing this, you saved my life <3 I also want to thank Adel—for always listening to my yaps about my stories and helping me sort out my thoughts. And everyone reading this. My stories happen because of y'all. :3
playlist | masterlist
It’s been a while since you’ve had a good night’s sleep. However, you knew that the moment your face hit the pillow and the exhaustion from the long week settled in, tonight was going to be the day. There was no need for you to wake up early tomorrow, and you were going to take advantage of that, ready to sleep throughout the entire morning.
But your plans on catching up onto your messed up sleep schedule fail once again when the guitar reaches your ears, stirring you awake. Then, the soft voice follows right after, making you rub your eyes with the back of your hand, glancing at the time on your phone. 8:12. There goes your dream of sleeping in.
You make it out of the bed, searching for where the sound is coming from. It couldn’t be your house, you’d have to own a guitar for that first. Once you reach your window and look outside to see a boy with a guitar, it all starts making sense.
Well actually, it makes even less sense.
You scan his figure, watching his brown hair fall in front of his eyes as he plays the instrument, a bike lying right beside his feet. You blink confusedly, listening to the soft melody you don’t recognize. And even though you can’t seem to wrap your head around why he is standing outside your house and singing a love song, it does sound amazing. His voice combined with the soft chords of the guitar warm your heart, causing you to open the window fully to see and hear better.
As soon as you do, his eyes lock with yours and he freezes. The song stops, his fingers stilled on the guitar strings as he scans your face, quickly looking around as if he was searching for someone. You both blink confusedly when your eyes meet again, trying to see what the hell is happening. He clears his throat first, awkwardly running his hand through his hair. “Is– Uhm, is Yuna here?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him. “Who?” You question, watching his cheeks turn red, probably from embarrassment. “Kim Yuna? I uhm, isn’t this her house?”
Suddenly, it all makes sense. Of course this poor boy is confessing his love under your window for a different girl. You don’t know him, obviously, but it still manages to hit. “Are you from Haneul Academy?” You scan him all over again, getting your answer in the form of a slight nod. You nod as well, everything falling in pieces together. Kim Yuna, the one person you despise. Yeah, she definitely doesn’t live in your house.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. She doesn’t even live on this street.” If his cheeks were red before, he doesn’t want to know what his face looks like now. It’s so utterly embarrassing. What was he even thinking about? Riding the bike with a guitar on his back on a Saturday morning to sing a love song for someone he wasn’t dating was already stupid enough, but this? This was terrible.
He moves around busily, grabbing his bike so quickly that his guitar almost breaks as it bumps into it. You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but you can’t find the right words. What are you supposed to say? Hey, it’s all good, at least you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of anyone else? You sigh, watching him get on his bike while mumbling soft, messy apologies without looking you in the eyes. He almost manages to fall off it when he fixes his guitar, but quickly gets himself back together, running away as if he’s just robbed a bank.
You watch him go from your bedroom window, your eyes softening just slightly. You feel bad for him, honestly. You’re sure he feels embarrassed, you would too, but a part of you thinks this might actually be better for him.
You know Yuna briefly. You’ve never talked to her outside of school, and even then, it was just when she wanted to borrow your notes before a test, but you still knew enough. A social butterfly with friends everywhere she looks, always around someone, no matter who it is. Her grades aren’t anything impressive, just average, and still, people seem to love her for a reason unknown to you. She’s pretty, you have to give her that, but you always believed in looking for more in a person, which leaves you confused on how it’s possible she is always dating someone.
Maybe she isn’t a bad person, you can’t know that, but you know she cheats her way through exams every semester, that she’s got a few upper classmates wrapped around her finger enough for them to always get her into the front of the line at the cafeteria, that she has started the ‘pretty contest’ in her first year just so the guys could rate girls at school for their own pleasure, and that much was definitely enough for you to dislike her.
You step away from the window, lingering for just a second before jumping into your bed again, your hands resting on your stomach as you stare at the ceiling, replaying the song in your head with a soft hum of the melody. You close your eyes shortly after, falling back into the dream realm, where you see the unknown boy again, singing a song only you could hear.
You regret signing up for an afternoon shift as soon as you step inside the store, your manager barely greeting you before running off, mumbling something about not being able to wait to get home and watch the football game. You settle behind the cash register, stretching your arms above your head.
It’s shortly after that the real work starts and you see customers walking in. It feels okay until people start asking you for help while you have a line at the cash register, trying your best to explain to them where they can find the product while scanning items of the person in front of you. They’re usually understanding, letting you do what you need and willing to wait a while, but there are also occasions where you get yelled at for being too slow or being a mess, making you clench your jaw. It’s not a hard job and it pays you good money, that’s why you like it so much, but people like that always make you want to quit.
Thankfully, it slows down before you can lose your mind and never come back. You breathe out in relief, sitting down in your chair and unlocking your phone. There’s ten minutes left before you can leave and you just pray no one else comes in. If you’re lucky, the manager gets here earlier and lets you leave even before your shift fully ends.
But of course, it’s not the manager that walks in. You raise your head and place your phone aside, your eyes widening when you see the same black zip up hoodie you did this morning. His hands are in his pockets, his feet leading him to a ramen alley before he can even notice you.
You watch him from your place, debating if it’s better to leave him alone and hope he doesn’t recognize you or approach him. Eventually, when he walks to the cash register to pay, you settle for the latter. “Hi,” you greet him awkwardly, scanning his cup of ramen. His eyes meet yours and his cheeks immediately turn pink, making him avert his eyes again as he greets you back. You smile, hoping to make it somehow less awkward while telling him his total. He places the exact amount in front of you and grabs his food, hesitating for a second. “I’m sorry, again,” he mumbles, raising his head again.
Your eyes soften a bit when you catch the blush hiding behind his glasses and messy hair, obviously still flustered. “I didn’t…did I wake you up?” He wonders when he remembers you standing in the window in your pajamas with your hair slightly ruffled from sleep. You shrug, putting the money away into the register before turning your head back to him. “Yeah but it’s fine, I wanted to wake up early anyway,” you lie so he doesn’t feel even worse, watching him hum in response.
“Can I, uhm, do you want anything from the store? Like coffee or ice cream? I…feel bad,” he admits, his eyes more sincere than you thought possible. You think about it, trying to see what the correct answer is, but when you figure there isn’t one, you just nod. “Coffee would be nice,” you agree, and before he can walk away to find a cup, you extend your hand towards him, your name slipping past your lips. He smiles, still awkward, as he shakes your hand, repeating your name inside his head to memorize it. “Choi Beomgyu.”
Your manager steps inside the store just as you collect the money for your coffee from Beomgyu. You smile at him, stepping out and making space for him at the register so he can lock it. It’s been around a year since you started working here and for some reason, he still doesn’t want you closing. At first, you found it weird, worried about what you did wrong, but then you learnt he is like that with every one of his part timers, no matter how long he’s known them for. His trust issues are bad, but honestly you can’t blame him. He’s just being careful.
Beomgyu stands on the side awkwardly, debating if this was his cue to leave. Your manager seems to catch onto that because his eyes flicker from him to you before sighing. “Yeah, you’re all good for today. Feel free to leave with your little boyfriend.” There were so many things wrong with the sentence, but you didn’t have a chance to correct him before Beomgyu hands you your drink, offering to walk you home since it’s dark outside.
You walk side by side, sipping on your coffee without a single word. You’re not sure if he minds or not. With his hands in his pockets again and his eyes glued to the ground beneath his feet, it’s hard to tell. “You don’t have to walk me home,” you mumble, making him look up. “It’s okay. I know where you live now anyway,” he jokes, but his laugh doesn’t sound entirely convincing, more like regretting.
“How did you end up there?” You wonder, watching the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. You narrow your eyes, trying your best to read him. “I’ve got the address from one of Yuna’s friends—Jia. I asked her for it last week, I doubt she moved out in the last few days and you started living there instead, though.” He kicks a few rocks on the ground and you nod. “Lived there my whole life,” you let him know and he hums. “I was stupid,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like it’s something he expected deep down.
You’re not sure what to say or do. People never have a right or wrong answer, but most of the time, you can still tell what they expect from you or what they want to hear by the tone of their voice, by the way they stand, or any other body language. Beomgyu doesn’t give you any clues, though.
“Do you…like her a lot?” You ask instead, the words feeling sour on your lips. He seems to think for a second, weighing his pros and cons. “We’ve spoken twice,” he mumbles, blowing some air on his forehead to get his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t exactly know her, to be honest, but yeah, I do like her.”
“Why?” The question comes out more judging than you’d want it to but either he doesn’t notice, or simply doesn’t care. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “She was nice when we spoke. It surprised me. I never expected a girl like her to look my way, let alone ask me about music and when our performances are.”
“A girl like what?” You frown, quickly masking it by taking another sip. “A pretty girl,” he says casually, and when he senses you quiet down, his eyes widen, quickly shaking his hands in the air to correct himself. “Which isn’t supposed to mean that the girls that do talk to me normally are ugly. Not that many girls talk to me. I– uhm– I think everyone is pretty, in their own way. She just is kind of out of my league, you know? And that makes me even stupider for thinking there would be a chance but–”
“Calm down,” you interrupt his panicking, a snicker escaping your lips. He’s blushing again and it’s honestly kind of cute. “If you think you’re stupid, then you probably have a chance with her, she likes that kind.” He rolls his eyes at your comment, shaking his head with a soft chuckle, making your lips curl up into a smile. You’re glad he understands a joke and doesn’t attack you immediately—which is something you’re sure all of the boys she keeps around herself would do.
“Sorry for the rambling. I don’t exactly know how you’re supposed to talk to girls,” he admits, making you chuckle. You let the conversation settle into a comfortable silence again, thinking about everything he’s said until now. The longer you spend with him, the less he makes sense to you. He’s nice, calm, quiet, innocent and pure, so why does he look at someone like Yuna? You can’t wrap your head around it. There’s a specific type of guys she’s dated, from what you observed, always the exact opposite of what Beomgyu is.
“The song is really nice by the way,” you proclaim, finishing your drink. “What song?” He asks confusedly, processing your sentence for a second before he connects the dots, his eyes widening. “It’s cringe,” he corrects you, averting his eyes again in embarrassment. “Do you really think that?” — “Yeah,” he nods, but you don’t believe him. To you, it seems more like he’s building up a wall in case you were going to agree, change your mind and say it’s the worst song you’ve ever heard.
“Well, I think it’s really good,” you assure him. “It’s been playing on repeat in my head.”
“Really?” He blinks hopefully, your smile widening as you nod. “Yeah. You wrote it, right?”
“I did,” he agrees, biting back his smile. “It’s stupid, though, isn’t it? Writing a song for a girl that I know will reject me.”
“You keep saying that you’re stupid and that what you do is stupid,” you mumble, shaking your head slightly. “But I don’t think that’s right.” He seems caught off guard by your words, struggling to find the right answer.
“I’m not stupid,” he says finally, tilting his head slightly with a sigh. “But I make decisions like that, sometimes.”
“You think liking her is one of them?” He doesn’t even rethink his answer before nodding, mumbling something about a hierarchy in popularity and the slim chances of her liking him back. When you ask why he decided to confess then, if he’s so sure he doesn’t have any chances with her, he tells you about how his friends boosted his ego the night before and he ended up believing in himself more. You listen closely, thinking about how it’d feel to be in his position.
After learning about Beomgyu’s crush and the way he sees Yuna, you naturally shift the conversation to something lighter, something that you’ve been wondering about and you know he won’t mind talking about—music.
He tells you about his band, the process behind his song writing and how he got into music at first, making you smile as you listen to his story on your way home. Honestly, you could have been home at least ten minutes ago, but for some reason, you didn’t want to leave. You enjoy talking to him, seeing his viewpoint on certain stuff and listening to his soft voice, making you take a longer route just to be with him longer.
You don’t think he minds, his laugh and stories making you think he likes being around you just as much as you do.
Once you do finally reach your house, Beomgyu stops mid step, smiling awkwardly again as he stands in the exact same place he did this morning. You smile back at him, glancing at the house, the soft light in the living room window letting you know your parents are there. “Thank you for the coffee.” He shakes his head slightly, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “Thank you for liking my song. Possibly more than the person it was meant for.” Somehow, he doesn’t sound sad. In fact, it’s almost like he’s making fun of the situation now.
“Good night, Beomgyu,” you smile gently, his lips forming the same grin. “Good night.”
You feel exhausted by the time lunch comes around on monday, the lack of sleep from the previous night finally getting to you. Still, it feels worth it when you know it helped you do well on today’s tests. Sometimes, you question if it’s really necessary to do all this for some grades, but after another success, your worries wash off and everything makes sense again.
You walk through the full cafeteria, looking for a table to sit at, when your eyes fall to a familiar face, his lips turning into a soft smile when he notices you. You smile back at him but don’t move, still trying to find a table—preferably one that is empty. You’re not sure what Beomgyu’s smile means, if it’s an invitation to sit with him and his friend, but you don’t want to risk the embarrassment if it’s not.
But no matter how closely you look, you find nothing, your feet slowly bringing you to his table anyway. “Mind if I sit here?” You ask carefully and Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate moving to create space for you. You slide beside him, smiling awkwardly as a form of gratitude. “Sorry for interrupting– Taehyun?” You blink when your eyes land on the boy opposite you, recognizing him from one of the math competitions the school held just a few weeks ago. He greets you warmly, even though the confusion in his voice is obvious.
“Oh, wait,” his eyes widen in realization, flickering between you and Beomgyu. “Are you the girl he ambushed?” — “I didn’t ambush anyone!” Beomgyu argues immediately, his cheeks turning red after realizing how loud he must have been just now. “Of course not,” Taehyun scoffs. “You just sang a love song–”
“Alright, shut up,” Beomgyu interrupts him, glancing at you apologetically. You shake your head with a light chuckle, brushing it off. “I’ve already told you it’s fine.”
“He’s lucky it was you, honestly,” Taehyun comments between bites. You raise an eyebrow, blinking confusedly. He simply shrugs, “There are hundreds of students here, if Jia gave him the address of, like Minseo, a video of him would be trending all over the internet by now, and he’ll never have a chance again.” Beomgyu buries his head in the table, practically hiding under it with a groan as his friend continues embarrassing him. You do think he has a point, though. Meeting you was definitely on the lower side of all the embarrassing scenarios that could have happened.
“You both seriously need to shut up before the whole school finds out,” Beomgyu grumbles, looking around as if to check if anyone was spying on you. You shake your head, opening your mouth to tease him further, but before you can, he kicks you under the table. You hiss, but instead of yelling at him, you confusedly watch his face turn redder and his eyes follow someone behind you. You carefully turn around, watching Yuna walk past to her usual table. You look at Beomgyu again, your eyes softening when you manage to read his eyes—broken, desperate, lost.
A heavy sigh leaves his lips when she disappears from his sight, his eyes focusing on you and Taehyun again. You both give him a knowing look that he doesn’t seem to understand. “What? I’m just… I was looking for Soobin!” He comes up with an excuse quickly, making Taehyun scoff. “I completely forgot he doesn’t have lunch for another hour.”
“Right, as if.” Beomgyu closes his mouth again, knowing arguing with him is pointless. Beomgyu knew he was smart, always on top of the class, but Taehyun was on a different level. It was no use trying to outsmart him.
You hesitate, rethinking the situation again before finally placing down your utensils, turning to face Beomgyu. “I’ll help you,” you state, his eyes scanning your face confusedly. “With?” — “With your crush.”
He doesn’t have time to ask you what you mean before you continue, the confidence in your voice scaring him slightly. “I think there is a chance for you. We just have to work on some things.”
“Like?” Taehyun urges, the tone of his voice giving away that he doesn’t believe in what you’ve planned. “Getting him into things she likes,” you say confidently. “If they have more things in common, it’ll be easier for them to talk, ergo he needs to find out what she likes and then apply it to himself. Think of it like a test. If you prepare well enough, you won’t need to worry about failing.”
When you put it that way, Beomgyu doesn’t think it’s completely impossible. And even though you can see Taehyun doesn’t agree, as long as Beomgyu does, you can be useful. “I have a group project with Minseo,” you inform them, frowning slightly at the thought. Group projects were never something you loved, especially if you were paired with people who didn’t care about their grades. On the very first day it was assigned, you asked Minseo when she was free to research information and she straight up asked you to do it on your own, mumbling something about her head hurting every time she thinks for too long.
You hated being paired up with her, but it could be useful now at least. “I can figure out what Yuna likes through her. It won’t be too hard.” The hard part will be convincing her to meet with you. But once you do, you’re certain to get the information out of her. After all, she’s always been known to be an open book.
“Good luck with that,” Taehyun shakes his head, getting up. “Don’t turn him into a completely different person in the process, I’d hate to be his friend if he turns into one of the football jocks she seems to be dating all the time.” Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention, barely mumbling a bye back as his eyes find Yuna again, watching her laugh with her group of friends a few tables away.
“Let’s do it,” he agrees, turning his head to you again. “Let’s try what we can.”
Getting Minseo to meet up with you was actually easier than you expected. She did have a bunch of excuses at first, but after you told her you would buy her ice coffee and take care of the presentation fully on your own, she agreed.
So now, you were sitting in a campus café, waiting for her arrival with Beomgyu a few tables away. You told him you would handle it alone, but he insisted, saying that he needed to know immediately. You didn’t see a point in arguing with him, letting him tag along if that was what he wanted to do. You could see that he was nervous, fidgeting with his fingers on top of the table. Seeing him like this was what made you want to help. Because even though you couldn’t say you would wish Beomgyu someone like Yuna, you do think he deserves to be loved just like everyone else. Who he chooses to be loved by is not for you to decide.
It is Friday now, almost two weeks since you’ve met him for the first time. You’ve learnt that he isn’t as shy as you thought he was at first when he started greeting you in the hallways as if you were friends for years, inviting you to sit with him, Taehyun, and occasionally Soobin every day for lunch. He was nice, and whenever he talked about his music like it was the love of his life, you found yourself smiling, listening to every word.
You sip on your coffee, eyes locked onto the iced latte opposite you. She was five minutes late already. Taking out your phone to text her and ask her if she is on her way, you notice a different message, from no one else but Beomgyu. You look his way, telling him to shut up with your eyes. He’s telling you to sit still and hold on for a while longer, reminding you that girls like Minseo don’t care about other people enough to be on time but will always show up eventually. You can see that he’s worried you might just get up and leave and this whole plan would go to vain, and you hate that he can read you so well because that’s exactly what you wanted to do.
You sigh, putting your phone face down on the table and staring a hole into the café door, waiting for your project partner to show up.
When she finally turns up, your coffee cup is almost empty. You watch her walk in with a smile on her face, one so fake you want to pretend it’s not directed at you. But she sits down on the chair opposite you and you can’t pretend she’s not there with you anymore. “Hey,” you offer a soft greeting that she brushes off, taking a sip of her latte. “This is good, is that vanilla?” She wonders, watching the glass with amusement. “I– yeah,” you blink. “You asked for vanilla when we talked yesterday.”
“Right,” she nods, narrowing her eyes at you as if she was trying to remember who you were. It was annoying. “Why am I here actually?” Minseo tilts her head slightly, a small gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s weird talking to her like this, even more so knowing that the first real interaction you have with her is being watched by someone who believes in you more than he probably should.
“I wrote the paper and I know your head hurts when you study for too long, but I just need you to read it to have a general idea of what it’s about and sign yourself under it so we can say you contributed to the work,” you explain just like you prepared earlier with the guys at lunch. She hums, not saying anything in protest as you hand her the two pieces of paper. You can see the disgust in her face but as long as she doesn’t say anything, you won’t either. That’s not really why you’re there anyway.
You start the conversation slowly, asking her about a boy from the basketball team you heard she’s been seeing. At first, you were worried it wouldn’t work, that she would think you were weird for asking her about things like this as that’s what you would do if a stranger asked you about your personal life, but she casually starts answering your questions, the excitement in her voice when she has an excuse to stop reading the paper obvious.
You don’t have to do much as she naturally shifts the conversation from herself to the other girls, gossip falling off her lips like it’s her second nature. You must say, you never heard so many disturbing things about people you didn’t know before.
As soon as she mentions Yuna and her obsession with athletes, your ears perk up. “Oh really? I didn’t know her type was that simple,” you comment casually and Minseo takes a sip of her coffee, the paper long out of her hands, laying untouched right beside her cup. “Oh no, athletes aren’t the only thing she is into. You know Jinho from the swimming team? He definitely wouldn’t make the cut,” she shakes her head like it’s the most obvious fact. You frown slightly, trying to remember him. When you realize you can’t put a face to the name, you figure that’s why he doesn’t fall under her type. She doesn’t like people whose names others don’t know.
“It’s someone like Yeonjun that she’d kill for. She’s been trying to get him ever since our first year. Weirdly enough, he isn’t interested.” Yeonjun is a name you do recognize. A star of every party that mattered, someone who was always surrounded by other people, just like Yuna. If it was by choice or not wasn’t your business. He was handsome, you could see why girls would like him, but he wasn’t your type. You’d much rather have someone who could solve a math problem than a guy who could drink a bottle of beer upside down.
“I see,” you hum. “So what would you say her type is?” It’s a simple question, that’s what it’s meant to be, but to your surprise, it’s also a question Minseo could talk about for hours. Hadn’t you known better, you would think she was still talking about herself. “She loves fashion, you know? Like there’s something so hot about a guy that can dress,” she says, looking around the café quickly. “See? That guy right there. It’s so hot,” she points at a guy in his twenties ordering a drink, waving with an innocent smile when he notices her. He looks flustered.
Even though you don’t want to admit it, you must say she is right. The rolled up sleeves of his button up that reveal his forearms are hot. You shake your head to snap out of your thoughts quickly and take a proper look at what he’s wearing. It’s the opposite of what Beomgyu has on himself right now. Yet, it’s not something you think he wouldn’t be able to pull.
“Oh! And him!” She whisper-yells, pointing at another guy who just walked in. When you see the black shirt and gray sweatpants he has on, you roll your eyes slightly. In his case, it’s definitely not the clothes she is attracted to but the muscles beneath them. “What else is there?”
Minseo thinks for a second, finally averting her eyes from the unknown boy and looking back at you. “Someone popular,” she states the obvious. “Who has connections, and like a bunch of followers.” You fight the urge to scoff at the simplicity of the girl. You weren’t exactly expecting her to say someone nice and kind, but a part of you still had hope until now. “He also needs to go to parties with her, you know her,” she laughs. It’s the same laugh she always gives her friends at lunch and it makes you think if she’s always this fast at befriending people. If that’s what you can call whatever this is.
“I was so surprised when she told me this, but apparently she also likes when guys get soft or whatever. She talked about emotions so much it made my head spin. She said a soft but popular guy like in the movies would be the best combination. I don’t necessarily agree though, I like them without all the emotions and shit.” — “What about you?” She tilts her head and you quickly blink in shock to make sure you’ve heard her right. “Is there anyone I could help you with?” Her smile widens at the idea, leaning closer to you. “If you want my recommendation, Minho from the football team might have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Your cheeks flush and you quickly shake your head to stop her. “I think– I think I’m good. I don’t really, uhm,” you avert your eyes, glancing over to Beomgyu for a brief second to see if he was still watching. Thankfully, your eyes don’t meet as he is busy texting someone on his phone. “Oh my, are you a virgin?” That question caught you off guard even more, your eyes widening. When your eyes shoot back to hers, it's enough of an answer for her. “Don’t worry, we’ve all been there,” she laughs, but to your surprise it doesn’t sound like she’s laughing at you. “Maybe you should try your luck with Yeonjun then, I’ve heard he likes virgins.”
“I see,” you nod, your voice shaking slightly. It’s embarrassing. This whole conversation, sitting there in front of her and talking about things like these. “But what did you say your type was again? Maybe I know someone better.”
You open your mouth to answer and then close it again. You’re not sure what she wants you to say, if she expects an honest answer, if she wants you to say athletes just so you could fit into her group, or if she simply wants to make fun of you and there’s no right or wrong answer.
After giving it a second thought, you open your mouth again. “I like kind people. Ones you don’t have to worry will judge you or make fun of you. I like when they are able to hold a meaningful conversation and have their own opinions on stuff,” you says, searching her face for any sign of not liking where you were going with this. When you don’t find anything, certain that she’s still listening, you continue. “I also like when guys aren’t scared to show their girl off, I think that’s very cute—when a guy proudly talks about his girlfriend.”
“I see, you’re one of those,” she giggles, leaning back in her chair. “How about looks?” You think about it for a second but then just shake your head. “Someone taller than me, I guess? I don’t know.” She shakes her head as well, but her smile never falls off. “I like you,” she proclaims, your surprise turning into a soft giggle when she messes up your name. Still, it’s something. “It’s bad you never attend any parties, you’re not only smart but also nice to talk to. Do you drink?”
“Sometimes, I guess,” you nod and her smile widens. “You should come to my party then. I haven’t told anyone about it yet but I want to do one next month, make sure you’re free. The girls and I can help you find someone, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick one of the guys there.” You don’t refuse her, you don’t say anything really. You’re not sure what you should say. So you just nod slightly, figuring that she’ll probably forget about this in a few days anyway.
She stretches her arms above her head, her yawn informing you that this was the end of her attention span. “This was really great,” your name is still a mess, but it’s closer this time, making you think that the next time you see her she might actually get it right. “But I should go now. The paper, uh, looks awesome.” You smile, nodding even though you know she hasn’t read a single word of it. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to in the first place.
Minseo get’s up from her chair, giving you one last smile—one way less fake than the one you received when she came in—before walking off. You sigh, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. When you open them again, the chair opposite you is occupied again. “God, since when do you walk like a ghost?” You ask, exhaling sharply. Beomgyu chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend. I didn’t know you were into gossip and all,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes. It’s crazy how quickly he got comfortable around you, turning from a mumbling and blushing mess to an annoying smartass.
“Don’t laugh too much, the work starts now. We need to buy you new clothes.”
Your eyes scan the rack of clothing in front of you, searching for what might suit Yuna’s style. If it was up to you, what Beomgyu was wearing now would be ideal. You shake your head at yourself, picking up a dark blue jacket you’re sure you’ve seen Yeonjun wear in a different color.
You turn around to show the piece to Beomgyu, seeing him holding up a pair of jeans himself. You narrow your eyes. “It’s the same one you’re wearing right now,” you point out and he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “I like my jeans, why not buy another pair if I’m comfortable in them?” He’s right, you can’t argue with that. You sigh, brushing it off and handing him the jacket for him to try on. He takes it without another word, looking around and browsing for more. You do the same, leaving him to do his thing while you go look through the other side of the store.
You walk around, trying to figure out what could look good. You’re not sure honestly, and the more time you spend at the store, the more you question if you’re fit to be the person helping him. You had your own style that you liked and didn’t care if others found it stylish or not, barely keeping up with the latest trends unlike Yuna. At the end of the day, you and her were the complete opposites, so how were you supposed to get him to fit her style?
When you meet Beomgyu again near the changing rooms, his hands are full. You smile, glad that he found it so easy picking out something that would fit both his and Yuna’s preferences. It’s only when you sit down and watch him come out in the first outfit that you realize he didn’t even try picking up clothes that weren’t in his usual style.
“This is nice, right?” He asks, doing a small spin so you can see. Baggy, ripped jeans and a comfortable hoodie. You scan his outfit, raising your eyebrow. It did look nice. It was similar to what he wore normally — except for the backwards cap on his head — so you couldn’t say you wouldn’t like it, the opposite actually.
For some reason, he looked different standing in front of you now. It wasn’t the same boy you’ve met outside of your house, it wasn’t the boy that walked you home from work the same night and talked about a girl he likes, it wasn’t even the same boy that you got comfortable around so quickly. The Beomgyu standing in front of you now felt like a boy just for you.
With his soft smile and glasses framing his face, he was just a boy you wanted to get serenaded by.
“It’s totally a boyfriend vibe, you know?” He fixes his hat, looking into the mirror to check himself. “What do you think?” You blink quickly, nodding. “Yeah, it looks great,” you agree, swallowing a lump in your throat as the memory of Beomgyu singing outside of your window comes back to you.
“Right? Taehyun and Soobin need to stop arguing with me about having a better style. I’m the best,” he laughs, disappearing into the changing room before you can say anything else. When he comes out again, he has a new pair of jeans on—black ones this time—a simple white shirt and the jacket you picked up before.
Your eyes widen just slightly, biting the inside of your cheek as he steps closer to you, watching himself in the mirror beside you. “I didn’t think this would suit me too well,” he mumbles, hiding his hands in the jacket pockets, smiling. “But it actually looks amazing. I think I’ll get this.”
“Yeah, you should,” you nod, mentally slapping yourself to snap out of it. You need to focus, not think about how well he looks. “I’m sure Yuna will like it,” the words come out broken but you’re not sure why. You do think she will like it. It’d be stupid of her not to. He looks amazing.
“Okay, I have one more outfit there,” he says, fixing his hair quickly. “Come on.”
“Where?” You blink confusedly, slowly standing up. “I chose an outfit for you as well.” Your eyes widen as you follow him inside one of the cabins and he hands you the clothes. You don’t get the chance to say anything before he closes the door behind you, sliding back into his cabin.
You stand there for a second, not moving an inch while listening to his soft hums of the song playing on the store speakers. As soon as your mind processes what has happened, you take a look at the clothes you’re holding, making a mental note that he likes the color pink.
You step out while fixing your hair, Beomgyu already waiting for you with his back turned to you. You clear your throat and he immediately turns to face you, his eyes widening for a brief second. You feel a bit awkward as he watches you, his eyes scanning your whole body as if he saw you for the first time.
He has a neat, light blue button-up, half of the buttons undone, revealing a white tank top beneath it. His pants are black, formal, something you didn’t think you’d see on him. The more you watch him, the more you question if there’s something he doesn’t look good in.
“I… you look amazing,” he compliments you, finally averting his eyes. His head falls low as he buttons his shirt, focusing on anything but how you look right now. He closes his eyes, trying to snap out of his thoughts, but the only thing he sees when he does is you again, standing right there with your innocent eyes and the clothes he picked up.
While looking for his clothes, he stumbled into the women section, his eyes immediately landing on a pink sweater. He isn’t sure why, but the first thought that popped up in his mind was about how nice it would look on you. He knew he was shopping for his clothes but he couldn’t help it, ending up browsing the women’s section for something to go with the sweater. And he did find something—a white skirt. He thought it would look cute on you, what he didn’t know was that it would look this cute.
The skirt was shorter than he expected, revealing more skin than he was ready for. Just seconds ago, he was thinking about how good he looked in his clothes and now, he was a mess. He shakes his head, avoiding looking at you again as he swallows a lump in his throat, asking you what you think of his outfit.
“You look handsome.”
The words come out before you can stop it, making you avert your eyes as well, your cheeks lightly flushed.
You both stand there, avoiding meeting each other’s eyes from embarrassment as if you’ve just walked in on him naked. It’s irrational if you think about it from a different perspective, but you can’t look him in the eyes, no matter how much you try to.
You’d rather not look at him again if it’d mean getting your heart to calm down and not making you feel like you’re going to get a heart attack any second.
You’d rather not meet his eyes again than admit a part of you wishes he was dressing up like this for you instead of Yuna.
Beomgyu walks out of the store with two plastic bags—one for himself and the other for you. You did like what he picked out, and as soon as you said it out loud, his eyes met yours instantly, putting his embarrassment aside and saying he’ll buy it for you. You tried arguing at first but gave up halfway, letting him do whatever he wanted.
“Is there another thing we could check off the list today?” He wonders, walking through the mall with you by his side.
“Aren’t you tired?”
He hesitates for a second, shrugging. “No, not really,” he mumbles. “I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” It’s a small lie if he’s honest. He could find what to do. He has his guitar, his band that is waiting for him to compose another song they could play at the spring festival the school holds, and there’s the game he’s been promising Soobin to play for the past few weeks. Still, he doesn’t want to go home just yet, doesn’t want to close himself in his room for hours with music when he could hang out with you. It’s the first for him.
Beomgyu was always someone who loved music. No matter what it was—the sound of a guitar, his old music teacher teaching him her favorite songs, the sound of his pencil drumming against the desk when he was bored in class, or even the birds singing in the morning when he woke up.
He wasn’t sure why spending time with you suddenly sounded better than music but he didn’t want to question it.
All he wants to do is enjoy the rest of his day, preferably by your side.
“Sure,” you nod, looking at your phone to see the time. “We can watch a movie together,” you offer, already sending a quick text to your mom to let her know you wouldn’t come home alone. “Yuna likes romance movies.”
He hums, listening to your every word as you talk about all the possible movies that come to mind at the moment, giving a quick commentary to each of them so he could picture them.
“Do you have a favorite?” You think it through, remembering exactly how you felt watching each movie you’ve just mentioned. “10 things I hate about you,” you answer finally, confident in your response. There were so many good ones you could watch, but this one holds a special place in your heart. “Let’s watch that one then.”
The light is on in the living room when you reach your house, Beomgyu awkwardly hanging behind you as you walk inside, a loud “I’m home,” leaving your lips. You peek into the living room, waving at Beomgyu to come closer when you see both of your parents cuddled up on the couch, watching your mom’s favorite reality show.
“Good afternoon,” Beomgyu greets them nervously, pushing his glasses up when they slide down his nose. “I’m Choi Beomgyu, I go to Haneul Academy with your daughter.” Your parents glance up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, your mom’s smile widening immediately. “Oh my,” she quickly stands up, motioning for your dad to follow as she makes her way over to you.
You shake your head slightly as you watch your mom extend her hand towards him, introducing herself with a smile, your dad mirroring her actions. “You’re handsome,” she comments, nodding as if she was approving. You shoot her a look but she ignores it, offering Beomgyu something to eat.
“I, uhm, thank you,” he smiles, chuckling nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’re going to watch a movie,” you inform them, getting their attention back to yourself. You’d rather not scare him away immediately. “Have fun,” your mom beams, glancing at your dad briefly. “I’ll get you something to eat as soon as our show ends.”
“Thank you.”
Beomgyu follows you into your room while you mumble apologies but he just shakes his head, brushing it off over and over again. “Your parents seem really nice.” You nod, closing the door behind you. “They are, but I get it if my mom seems like a lot right now.”
“She’s nice,” he repeats, assuring you it’s okay as he carefully sits on your bed. “Besides, even if she was an evil witch, it wouldn’t be your responsibility to apologize for her behaviour.” You bite back your smile, averting your eyes from him again and grabbing your laptop from the table.
“You’re really nice as well, you know,” you mumble, sitting down and placing the laptop on top of your thighs.
You’re really nice. The words echo in his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again as the movie starts playing, the sentence stuck in his throat. The intro music plays and he has to force himself to take his eyes off you and focus on the movie instead.
You soon learn Beomgyu can’t shut his mouth for longer than a few minutes, not even while watching a movie.
“This makes no sense. He can’t actually be that stupid, can he?” — “As you can see, some guys don’t have more than one brain cell,” you laugh, watching Joey pay Patrick as if it was his idea all along.
“Your eyes have a little green in them.” You smile, a soft giggle leaving your lips when she throws up right after that. Beomgyu beside you chuckles as well, glancing at you. “I’m starting to get it,” he says and your eyes meet. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I mean,” he clears his throat as if he was embarrassed. “They are cute together. It’s nice seeing them,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. “And it’s easy to imagine myself in there.”
“Yeah? Who would you be if you were there?” You question, your eyes flickering between the screen and the boy beside you. “Cameron,” he answers without hesitation and your smile falters for just a second. “I assume I know who Bianca would be.” He shrugs, not meeting your eyes again.
It doesn’t surprise you. You can see him in the position, pining over a girl while she flirts with the popular guy, playing around with him until she realizes what she’s missing out on. It’s funny, how just the thought of Beomgyu and Yuna makes you feel sick in the stomach even though you were the one offering your help with his crush.
The movie playing on your laptop along with a few soft laughs at times is the only thing that fills the room after that. You stay quiet, ignoring the way your shoulder brushes against his, watching in silence as Patrick and Kat get together, as Cameron and Bianca start seeing each other, even as Kat finds out she’s been played and Beomgyu starts asking questions, wondering if they are going to be okay.
“Is it that bad?”
“You mean being lied to and finding out he wasn’t interested from the start?” You raise your eyebrow and he closes his mouth again. “I get that just…you can see it in him that he loves her, right?”
“That’s true,” you nod slightly. “And that’s why they’re not going to stay apart forever.” That seems to quiet him down, eyes focused on the movie again.
As soon as the movie finishes, you shift in your place, Beomgyu’s eyes falling to your figure. “So? What do you think?” You ask to break the awkward silence. At least that’s what it seems like to you. “It’s really good,” he nods, his voice quiet. You want to ask if he’s okay, what is he thinking about and if he wants a glass or water or anything, but before you can do so, he is already on his feet, fixing his pants. “I should go now,” he says and you notice he doesn’t look you in the eyes. “It’s late and my mom is probably waiting for me.”
You nod, unsure of what to do. A part of you wants to stop him, ask him to stay longer and talk with you—about school, your part-time job, anything he wants—but you know you can’t. So instead, you stand up as well, leaving the laptop on your bed as you walk him out, watching him say his goodbye to your parents and them returning it with such a bright smile you’d think they’re talking to your best friend.
You linger at the door as Beomgyu walks out of your house, a plastic bag with his new clothes swinging in one of his hands. He looks back just once, your eyes meeting for a brief second, a spark flickering in them before he gives you one of his soft smiles, waving at you before disappearing into the dark.
You’re not sure what it is that had him running out of your room so quickly, but you know one thing—spending the day with him changed something.
Something you couldn’t quite name yet.
There has to be a logical explanation for the sudden change, and you doubt it’s the different clothes.
Taehyun seems to think the same, his eyes narrowing as he glances between you, Beomgyu, and the girl standing near the table, a smile on her face. Your eyes lock with his and he immediately wonders what’s happening. You shrug, as confused as he is. Soobin besides you doesn’t look as fazed, his eyes focused on his food, completely ignoring the situation happening around.
He wasn’t always eating lunch with the three of you but he knew about the situation. Beomgyu’s crush wasn’t a secret, and because they were best friends, there was no need to hide his plan from him either.
“Thanks for the help with the english homework,” Yuna smiles, making you roll your eyes. When you see Taehyun scoffing opposite you, you smile as well. You’re glad you’re not the only one feeling this way—like her whole presence near you is an irony.
“No problem,” Beomgyu answers with a shy smile. “Anytime.”
“This soup is really good,” Soobin interrupts and you’re not sure if he can’t read the room or just doesn’t care. Either way, Beomgyu glares at him, ignoring his comment completely.
“Okay,” she giggles gently, a sound so perfect you can see why Beomgyu would fall for her. Despite your differences and your disagreement with her actions, you get it. Deep down, you understand. She’s pretty, with long shiny hair and glossy lips. Her skin looks as soft as she sounds when she speaks, and her laugh sounds more beautiful than you expected.
“I’ll see you around then,” Beomgyu smiles at her awkwardly as she walks off to her table of friends, humming instead of answering. You wouldn’t consider this a real conversation or progress but when you see his eyes, you can’t say it out loud. He looks too proud of himself for that. “Did you guys see that?”
“No, not really,” Soobin says, not bothered at all. Beomgyu rolls his eyes at him but his smile doesn’t fall off his lips. “I’ve seen it. It’s weird,” Taehyun frowns.
“It’s not weird.”
“It is.”
“You don’t think it’s weird, do you?” Beomgyu looks at you, making you blink quickly. Your eyes flicker from him to his two friends, searching for help. Because honestly, you’re not sure.
“You like her,” you shrug, brushing the question off. Beomgyu raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else, the topic slowly drifting to something no one minds talking about—their band practice.
Taehyun tells you about a new song they’re working on, complimenting Beomgyu’s work on the music—which makes his neck turn red—and laughing as he remembers how Kai’s legs got tangled with the cables and he knocked down a bunch of instruments. You gasp when you hear the story, worried about him and all the instruments that must have been damaged. Thankfully, Taehyun assures you no one got hurt, not a single guitar or band member.
“Have you prepared for the spring festival yet?” Soobin wonders, munching on his food. “There’s a month left and you’re performing, right?”
“Forty days,” Beomgyu corrects. “And…not really. I’m working on it, I promise. I told the manager we’d be performing three new songs so I need to make that happen,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Inspiration has been avoiding me lately.”
“What normally works for you?” You ask, watching his eyes widen slightly. He thinks about it, his mouth falling open and then closing again multiple times. “I’m not… I’m not sure actually. It usually just appears out of nowhere, I don’t think there’s a pattern or something that would make me write good music.”
“Relaxed mind,” Taehyun speaks up. “And memories. That usually works for me.”
You nod, glancing between the three boys. It’s true that ever since you went shopping with him, he’s been out of it. Sure, he still talks like he is on crack a lot of the time, his brain working faster than yours ever could, but every time you mention his music, his smile seems to falter for a second. And now that you know he hasn’t been able to write anything lately, it starts to make sense.
“Alright. We should do something then. Relaxed mind and memories? I think I know of a way to connect that with our little mission,” you smile gently, ignoring Taehyun narrowing his eyes at you, studying you, and only focusing on Beomgyu, his lips turning into a soft smile you’ve grown to love over the past few days. “Have you ever played basketball?”
Athletes were one of the most obvious things on Yuna’s like-list. Her dating history said enough. It was only natural for the next step of your plan to be something to do with sports—but Beomgyu certainly didn’t expect to be playing on the school court with the captain of the basketball team.
“You’re late,” he comments, looking at a non-existential watch on his hand. “Wasn’t Jake supposed to be here?” You ask instead of answering, walking closer to Heeseung, one of your old friends from middle school, Beomgyu following right after you. “Change of plans,” he shrugs innocently. “He had a chore to run to and I wanted to check out who you were so eager to teach basketball to.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice that makes you roll your eyes because you know exactly what he’s referring to. The last time you asked him and Jake to play basketball with you was when you wanted to introduce your boyfriend to them, but this was a different situation.
A completely different one.
“Heeseung, meet Beomgyu. Beomgyu, Heeseung,” you introduce them briefly. “He wants to impress a girl and needs to be good at sports for that.” Beomgyu shoots you a look immediately, a silent plea not to tell on him completely. It’s enough that he has to listen to Taehyun’s constant ranting about how stupid it is and Kai’s teasing, he doesn’t need it from a stranger as well.
“Nice to meet you,” Beomgyu extends his arm awkwardly, a brief smile on his lips. Heeseung shakes his hand without a second of hesitation, his smile much wider. “Who’s the lucky girl?” He wonders and before Beomgyu can answer, you turn to him. “He always wants to know all the gossip to have a clear picture of others in his head but he doesn’t tell others. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out.”
Beomgyu nods. “Yuna,” he admits, quickly looking around to check no one else was in. It’s kind of cute. It would be if he wasn’t talking about the one girl you don’t want him to talk about. You think it might feel a lot better if it wasn’t someone so different from you—if it was someone you didn’t compare yourself to so often.
Heeseung whistles, laughing softly. “That’s a tough one.” — “Do you think it’s not worth it?” Heeseung tilts his head slightly, taking a proper look at the boy in front of him. “That’s something you have to decide on your own. I don’t think you’re a bad guy, otherwise she wouldn’t be talking to you,” his eyes fall to you quickly before he looks back at Beomgyu. “And that alone gives you a chance with anyone.”
Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him, glancing at you. “I don’t think that was an encouragement.” Heeseung laughs at him, shaking his head. “If you want my insight, Yuna is not someone everyone can deal with. And I’m not one to tell you if she’s good for you or the other way around.”
You shake your head. “Just tell him it’s all worth it. It better be when we are putting so much effort in for her,” you laugh, the sound bitter. Heeseung raises an eyebrow at you, eyeing you up and down but before he can ask anything, you tell them to start playing already because you don’t have the whole day for them. It’s a lie. Once you knew you’d be spending the afternoon with Beomgyu again, you cancelled your shift and free-upped the rest of your day.
You don’t want to be time limited. Not when you’re with him.
Heeseung throws the ball to Beomgyu, daring him to show off what he is capable of. He hesitates, eyes flickering between you and Heeseung before he starts dribbling, trying to get around the captain. But this is Heeseung’s arena and he doesn’t let him win easily, stealing the ball the first chance he gets and running to the other side of the court, scoring perfectly.
It goes like that for a while, Beomgyu slowly getting used to the pace and learning when to try going through Heeseung and when not. It’s not easy at all but that’s something he expected. Playing with the captain couldn’t be easy.
“You’re good,” Heeseung praises, scoring another point. Beomgyu scoffs, pushing his sweaty hair back. “You learn fast and are confident.”
“I haven’t scored even half as many times as you did.”
“Yeah but I’ve been training my whole life,” he says, running around Beomgyu again before calling out to you. You raise your eyebrows confusedly, your eyes widening when the ball comes to you. You catch it, questioning what that was for. “Let’s play,” he explains simply, wrapping his arm around Beomgyu’s shoulder. “You haven’t gotten out of your form, have you?”
“You play?” Beomgyu asks confusedly, his eyes wide. You smile, dribbling slowly as you walk closer. “It’s impossible not to when you’re surrounded with people that do,” you shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “But I’m not any good, don’t worry.”
“That’s a lie,” Heeseung leans closer to Beomgyu, chuckling. “I always ask her to play against our newbies to see how good they are. She never loses,” the praises leave his lips as if it’s his second nature, making you roll your eyes. However, when Beomgyu smiles at you, saying he wants to play with you, a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as well. “Let me take my glasses off first, they’re pissing me off.”
You watch him take them off and hide them inside his bag, your eyes never leaving him. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without them and a part of you is grateful for that. It’s really hard to focus on anything when he looks like that—absolutely gorgeous with his big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Yeah, this wasn’t good for you at all.
Running around the court, sweating your ass off, was never something you enjoyed a lot. It was the main reason why you never wanted to play basketball for a club. But running around with Heeseung and Beomgyu by your side was something completely different. You were laughing, your stomach hurting from how much. Your hair was sticking to your forehead and you were sure it wasn’t a pleasing sight, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Not when your eyes were focused on the sweat on Beomgyu’s forehead, his laugh addicting.
If it was with him, you could run forever on this court.
“Timeout, timeout,” Beomgyu repeats over and over again, his breathing heavy as he leans forward, his hands resting on his knees. Despite the exhaustion, he is still laughing softly, trying to collect himself again. His whole body feels too heavy all of a sudden. He falls to the floor, laying on his back and closing his eyes. Heeseung beside you laughs while you slowly walk over to him, sitting down beside him.
Your own breathing is unsteady but you’re still doing better than him, resting your hands on the ground beside you and blowing air up to your forehead in a lame attempt to get your hair out of your face.
“I’m not turning into an athlete,” he states, visibly exhausted. You chuckle. “You’d be good at it.” He shakes his head, still not opening his eyes. “Absolutely not. I think I have asthma.”
“Well then, it’s good you’re so smart,” you mumble and he prompts himself up on his eyebrows, watching you curiously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You panic slightly, shaking your hands in front of your face. “I mean, you don’t have to be sporty! You are, obviously, uhm, I–”
His soft laugh interrupts you, a sigh full of relief escaping your lips. “I’m just teasing you. I’m glad I’m smart as well,” he assures you, glancing at Heeseung who is still standing up, a bottle of water in his hands now. You’re not sure where he got it but you need one as well, extending your arm towards him and asking him to pass it over. “Not that anything would be wrong with being an athlete, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Heeseung laughs, handing you the water. “You’re good,” he shakes his head, joining you on the ground. “That was fun, though. You do have a talent,” he assures him and you smile again, agreeing. Beomgyu grins proudly, mumbling something about always knowing he’d be good. It makes you laugh again. It’s amazing how easy it is for him to make you laugh but you definitely don’t complain.
As you’re collecting your things from the ground and saying your goodbyes to Heeseung, he pulls out his phone, telling you to wait. Both you and Beomgyu look over, questioning what he needs. “Let’s exchange numbers.”
Beomgyu smiles, quickly pulling out his phone and handing it to Heeseung for him to put his number in. “I’ve got a few pictures when you two were playing, let me send it to you.” You frown confusedly but Heeseung only smirks at you, Beomgyu’s phone lighting up with a new message instantly. “I think they are good, you should post them.”
There’s a bunch of photos of the two of you playing and laughing, some solo shots of Beomgyu, and even a picture of him laying on the ground just a few minutes ago. His smile widens, an idea sparkling in his head. Beomgyu quickly turns towards you, showing you a picture of him with the ball, his forehead sweaty, hair falling into his eyes. “Yuna said she likes big followings, right? I should start posting anyway, and this one is good, right?”
You freeze for a second, nodding slightly. “Yeah,” you mumble, biting your bottom lip to make sure you don’t say anything else. The words, “Can’t you do something just for yourself and not her?” hanging dangerously on the tip of your tongue.
“Alright, I see you around,” Heeseung says, sensing the sudden shift in your energy. “Call me later, yeah?” You nod, smiling awkwardly, holding tightly onto your bag. “I will,” you agree, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes again, hoping he can’t see how broken you feel over something so stupid. “Let’s go?”
When you get home you notice Beomgyu’s new post. The same picture he showed you earlier. When you scroll to another picture, he’s laughing with you and it makes you smile. The last picture he posted is of him laying on the ground, exhaustion visible. You think back to the moment and even though it’s only been minutes since you last saw him, you find yourself missing him already.
You want to spend more time with him, create more memories and laugh with him. But as soon as your eyes fall to the like button under his post, the silly wish disappears because you know you can’t ask for that. Not when his eyes are already on someone else.
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You turn your phone off, throwing it beside you on the bed and burying your face in your pillow, a loud, regretting groan leaving your mouth.
The club room is loud, the electric guitar shaking the walls when Beomgyu walks in. Taehyun doesn’t notice him at first, his eyes closed as he plays, his grimace making Beomgyu wonder what he’s thinking about. It’s been long since he heard him play like that. Taehyun was usually calm, keeping his troubles to himself in order not to bother others.
“Hey,” Beomgyu greets him, Taehyun’s fingers stopping mid move as his eyes flutter open. “Hey. Sorry that was,” he tilts his head and swallows a lump in his throat, his brows furrowed as he thinks about how to explain himself. “I needed to cool off for a second.”
“Everything good?”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” he shakes his head. “Just a rough day. Math and all,” he brushes it off and even though Beomgyu feels a bit uneasy, he nods, getting his guitar out of the case. “Yeah, math sucks,” he plays into it, smiling as he joins his side. “It completely tired me today as well. Should we play it off together?”
Taehyun’s lips turn into a smile, “Sure.”
Kai laughs awkwardly as he walks into the club room, making both Taehyun and Beomgyu turn his way. The two of them are sitting at a table in the corner of the room now, chatting about nothing in particular while waiting for their third member. He’s late, which isn’t usual for him.
“You got lost or what?” Beomgyu asks with a light laugh, his smile falling off when he notices another figure behind Kai. “Kind of,” he chuckles, a teasing smirk on his face as he steps aside for the two boys to see. “Oh.”
“Hi,” Yuna smiles warmly, fixing her skirt in a way that has Beomgyu thinking she wants him to look. He clears his throat, glancing at Taehyun instead. “I’m going to absolutely embarrass myself,” he whispers, his eyes screaming for any sort of help. Taehyun just rolls his eyes at him, jumping down from the table. “What brings you here?”
“I saw Huening in the hallway and asked him about you,” her eyes briefly flicker to Beomgyu, his neck turning red under her gaze. “And when he said you’ve got practice right now, I asked if it would be possible to join you.”
Beomgyu pulls a chair for her, unsure if he should yell at Kai or be thankful. He feels like a mess, with no idea what to do. There has to be a right and wrong answer but he can’t find them for some reason. So he simply grabs his guitar, squeezing it tightly as he waits for his band mates to prepare as well.
It’s awkward. He avoids meeting her eyes as much as possible while her gaze lingers on his figure in a way he didn’t think was possible. A part of him feels excited, but the other is just tensed, insecure, and intimidated. Sure, they’ve played for others before. The three of them stood together on a podium in front of a bunch of people since middle school, but this was different—intimate.
“Okay, uhm, let’s start with spring,” Beomgyu looks over his shoulder at Kai behind the drums and then back at Yuna, sharing an awkward smile with her before his fingers gently move over the strings, one hand holding the pick and determining the rhythm while the other switches between different chords.
As the soft melody echoes through the room, his eyes close, focusing on his voice as he starts with the first verse. Spring is an old song from four years ago they play to this date to warm up. It was also one of the first songs Beomgyu has written, and even though he knows he has improved a lot since then, he still feels proud.
“Should we do Wake up next?” Kai suggests as soon as the song comes to an end. Beomgyu’s eyes widen, anxiety running through his whole body. “Yeah, let’s do that,” Taehyun agrees without hesitation, ignoring Beomgyu’s panicked look. Wake up is a recent song, one he wrote with Yuna in mind. It’s embarrassing on its own, even more so when he’s supposed to play it in front of her.
“Oh, is that a new song? I haven’t heard of that one,” Yuna asks excitedly, her bright eyes catching him off guard. It feels like he is talking to a completely different person. Just a few weeks ago, he was convinced there wasn’t an universe where she would like him back and now, he felt like he was in a dream. Beomgyu from a month ago would be jealous of him now, absolutely excited to play a song for her.
But now, he doesn’t feel that. He feels lost and confused as his voice fills the room because it’s not Yuna or her pretty smile that his mind drifts to.
It’s you, the girl he’s spent so much of his time with lately he can’t see a reality in which he doesn’t talk to you.
His fingers slip. The chord misses. His heart stutters, faster than the tempo, his head clouded with memories of everything you did together. It’s weird, wrong. He’s supposed to be thrilled, jumping from excitement that he gets to show off his music in front of Yuna and possibly get closer to her, so why is it only you he can think of while playing a love song he wrote?
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beomgyu shakes his head, stopping before the song ends. Taehyun and Kai stop their movements as well, watching him confusedly. “My head is elsewhere,” he admits, mentally slapping himself to snap out of it. “It’s okay,” Taehyun assures him, his voice giving away that he is confused. This hasn’t happened before. If anyone was out of it during practice, it was Kai. Beomgyu was always focused, relaxing with the music and getting his mind off any unnecessary thoughts. It was weird.
“We can take a break,” Kai suggests, anxious when he looks at Yuna. He brought her in because he wanted to help Beomgyu and make them closer, he’d hate for this little mistake to cause the opposite. Thankfully, she doesn’t look disgusted like he expects her to, the same warm smile on her lips that calms him down a bit. “Sorry,” Beomgyu mumbles again, placing his guitar on the stand.
“It was really great,” Yuna says softly and Beomgyu’s eyes finally meet hers. “Don’t worry about it, the song sounds amazing.” — “Right,” he nods slightly, jumping up on the same table as before, his feet swinging in the air. “It’ll be better at the spring festival.” It’s a light promise that causes Yuna’s smile to widen, nodding happily. “I can’t wait to listen to it. I should go now, Minseo needs my help with getting alcohol for her party,” she giggles, the sound sending a shiver down Beomgyu’s spine. “You’re all coming, right?”
The guys exchange a look, unsure of what to say. Beomgyu only heard of the party when Minseo was talking to you about it in the café and honestly, he completely forgot about it. He didn’t think he was invited anyway, he never was. “You have to, it’ll be fun,” she encourages them, grabbing her hand back from the floor and standing up. “I’ll see you there,” she grins before any of them even answer her, not giving them a choice. And just like that, she walks away, leaving the three boys alone in the room.
Kai blinks confusedly, trying to figure out what just happened. He thought something was up right when Yuna approached him and asked him about their practice, but this was on a completely new level of insane. He turns his head towards Beomgyu who is as lost as he is, his gaze lingering at the door.
But for some reason, he doesn’t miss Yuna, doesn’t look there and imagine her figure. No, all he can think about is how wrong it felt playing the song for her, and how much he wishes it was you sitting on the chair in front of him, laughing with them at the stupid jokes Kai made or the way he messed up the chords.
Because with you he doesn’t feel the same pressure as with Yuna.
With you, it just feels easy.
“You haven’t forgotten, right?” You blink confusedly, looking up to see who’s talking to you. Your confusion only grows when your eyes meet Minseo who you haven’t talked to since the day in the café. “About…?” She gasps, shaking her head in disappointment. “The party, obviously! You have to come.” The fact she’s talking to you doesn’t surprise you as much as the way she finally says your name correctly does.
“I…when is it?” You ask carefully, hoping she doesn’t yell at you. She simply sighs, opening her phone to show you something. “Have you lived under a rock until now? It’s bold on here,” she turns her screen towards you, your eyes quickly scanning her story with the time and address. It is clear and you’re sure everyone knows about it already. It’s your fault for not following her.
“Tell me you don’t have anything today. We talked about this a month ago already.”
“I, no, I’m free,” you nod, a little uncertain. Parties weren’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t know how to tell her no. It was the first time someone out of her circle talked to you about anything other than homework they needed help with, and even though you knew it was pathetic holding onto it so much when you complained about their lack of intellect a lot before, you didn’t want to miss out on your chance to prove to them you weren’t just a nerd who didn’t have any hobbies outside of studying.
“Then it’s settled,” she claps her hands happily. “Bring whoever you want with yourself as long as they’re fun, I don’t care.” You nod, someone popping into your head immediately. She grins, waving at you slightly before walking out of the class, already chatting with someone else.
You brush your hands on your skirt awkwardly, trying to get them to stop sweating as you step out of the car, Beomgyu and his two friends right behind you. Kai’s older sister quickly wishes you to have fun, telling Kai to call her once he needs a ride back before driving off, leaving the four of you at the sidewalk.
“This is so weird,” Taehyun comments, looking at the already full house. Some people are in the garden, laughing around the pool while one of Minseo’s friends stands behind the DJ pult, mixing songs in a way that gives away that she is definitely not supposed to touch the device.
“Tell me about it,” Beomgyu mumbles while Kai just grins, way more excited than the three of you. “Oh, come on. It’s going to be fun!”
“Or extremely embarrassing.” Kai rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Taehyun’s shoulder and walking towards the house, yelling how lame you and Beomgyu are. You watch their back in disbelief, glancing at Gyu beside you. He’s wearing one of his ripped jeans with an oversized band shirt, looking as handsome as ever. He also isn’t wearing his glasses, and so when he turns his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours, you feel weak in the knees.
“Let’s go,” he smiles and you avert your eyes, squeezing the bottom of your skirt as you gaze into the ground beneath your feet. He seems to notice your uneasiness, wrapping his hand around your shoulder and pulling you closer into a brief side hug. You raise your head again, surprise written all over your face as you watch him, eyes wide. “You look amazing,” he assures you, thinking that’s what’s bothering you. “I told you when we were buying the clothes and I’ll tell you all over again until you believe it.”
It’s incredible how easy it is for Beomgyu to have your heart racing. His words echo in your head, his cologne reaching your nose as he slowly walks with you towards the house as well, keeping you close. You look down on your clothes again, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you stare at the white skirt and pink sweater—the same clothes he bought for you a few weeks back.
Beomgyu grabs a drink for you and him as soon as you get inside, finding a space in the corner of the room. He tells you about a new show he’s been watching, how his new song has been going, and even about his failure at cooking dinner last night. You laugh, slowly getting comfortable again and forgetting about everyone else, your world only having two people in it—you and him.
You’re not sure where Kai and Taehyun disappeared or if they were having fun but it’s what bothers you the least at the moment, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t Choi Beomgyu and his soft voice.
But your little bubble is interrupted when your eyes meet Yuna’s behind Beomgyu and she walks over, greeting you with the same annoyingly beautiful smile. You take a sip of your drink and a small step back to make space for her, Beomgyu mimicking your movements. “Hey,” he greets her back, introducing you to her as if you didn’t already know who she was. “Oh, yeah, my bio girl, right?” She asks and you grit your teeth, nodding.
It’s ridiculous. You’ve been in her bio class for two years and she always came to you asking for help or homework answers, often cheating off your tests as well, so how were you still only labeled as her bio girl? It made you feel like a joke.
“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” she mumbles. You bite back the insult you want to say and simply smile, letting Beomgyu answer. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while,” he nods, glancing at you. There’s a flicker of something you can’t name in his eyes, making you blink confusedly. Haven’t you known better, you think it’s pain, regretted behind those words. Does he not see you as his friend?
“Oh, right, I saw you on Beomgyu’s post when he was playing basketball, right?” You nod again, shaking it off and focusing your attention at Yuna again. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she says, shutting you out of the conversation before you can say anything else. “I don’t have anything to drink, mind grabbing something with me?” Beomgyu opens his mouth and closes it again, his eyes flickering between the two of you before he nods hesitantly, letting her wrap her arm around his and pull him away, leaving you standing there alone with just a cup of vodka in your hands.
You’d be lying if you said you don’t feel like shit but there’s nothing you can do, watching them from your corner while sipping on your drink, looking like someone drained life out of you. Minseo seems to notice when she walks over to you to greet you, her smile turning into a frown as she asks what’s going on. You don’t answer. Can’t. But she figures it out on her own, her eyes following yours and finding Beomgyu and Yuna chatting near the drinks, both laughing over something he said.
“Oh,” she breathes out, standing in front of you to cover the sight. She raises her cup, unsure of what to say to make you feel better. “Yuna is… I didn’t know… I mean,” she clears her throat, feeling the pain in her gaze. You shake your head, raising your cup as well and forcing a smile, drinking with her. Your eyebrows furrow when the bitter taste fully settles in, the grimace you make making Minseo laugh. You’re glad at least one of you is able to laugh at the moment.
“You know, I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks,” she says suddenly, glancing back at them again. “So I really enjoy talking to you because I know you’re not stupid either.” — “Thanks?” You interrupt confusedly and she sighs. “My point is, I wanted to have a friend who was smart and also could talk about stupid boys with me so I wanted to help you get a boy, I told you that, right?” You nod, trying to see where her monologue is going. “But he’s…I can’t really help you when Yuna wants him as well. You understand, right?”
Your eyes widen, your lips shaking a bit as you try to answer her. But what is it that you’re supposed to say? Yeah, no worries, I get that she wins every time? Oh thank you for being such a great friend, Minseo?
Instead, you brush it off, changing the conversation before she can say anything else and make you feel even worse. She seems to prefer it that way as well. Her smile returns and she tells you about the boy she is seeing at the moment, complaining about him not showing up today before she drags you with herself towards the center of the room, introducing you to a few people as if you were really her friend.
You sit down on the couch right beside her, fixing your skirt when it rolls up higher than you’d want. One of the guys offers you his drink but you refuse, saying you’re good. It’s only when you see Yuna holding Beomgyu’s hand and pulling him with herself for a dance that you grab the drink from him, gulping it down in one go. There’s a few whistles around you and cheers but they don’t reach your ears. The only thing you can hear is Minseo telling you to be careful before you receive another cup with who knows what.
You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there, drinking and chatting with Minseo’s friends but it does help make you feel better. You push Beomgyu out of your head for a while, thinking about getting home and watching a movie with your mom instead of the boy that keeps breaking your heart over and over again without knowing about it. It feels nice to be able to focus on something else for once, but with your luck, it doesn’t last long.
“Here you are,” Beomgyu’s voice is a little panicked when he finds you, sounding as if he was looking for you all over the house. His breathing is unsteady as he looks around the group of people surrounding you, frowning. It’s an unusual crowd to say the least, especially when it’s Minseo of all people telling you to stop drinking because you’ve had enough. Your eyes flicker to him, your smile falling off. “Oh, hey.”
“Hi,” he greets you back even though he doesn’t understand, your name gentle on his lips. “Are you okay?” He asks, worried as he comes to stand beside you. You nod, smiling again. “Peachy.”
“She drank quite a lot,” Minseo tells him, making you roll your eyes. They’re acting as if you were wasted, unable to hear them. But you’re sitting right between them, annoyed with both of them. “The last time I checked I was able to drink however much I want,” you mumble, asking for another drink. Yeonjun who’s sitting opposite you reaches over and offers you his cup. You grab it without hesitation.
Beomgyu says your name again in a poor attempt to stop you but it only makes you want it more. You need to drown the pain he causes you. Need to shut his voice out before you start crying in front of everyone without even knowing why.
“Come on, we should go. Your mom will be worried,” he tries again and you shake your head. “I think she’s perfectly fine here,” Yeonjun interrupts him with a teasing smirk, leaning back in his seat. “Right, princess?” You nod, ignoring the nickname. “I’m sure her pretty little head can think for herself. And either way, there’s nothing to be worried about when she’s with us.”
His words make Beomgyu even more uncertain, his blood boiling when he watches Yeonjun’s eyes trail down your body. It’s disgusting, really. He stands between you without hesitation. “Let’s go,” he tries again, watching your cheeks turn red as you look up at him, hoping for the couch to swallow your whole so you could disappear.
His eyes are pleasing and part of you wants nothing more than to leave with him right now, but it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.
Beomgyu grabs your hand before you can speak, pulling you up so you’re standing in front of him. You watch him confusedly, opening your mouth to argue with him and tell him you want to stay. However, he interrupts you before you can even do so, his empty hand cupping your cheek as he leans closer, pressing his lips against yours.
Your eyes widen, feeling your heart is about to jump out of your chest when he tilts his head slightly, his eyes closed as he tastes your lips, his other hand moving from your to your waist, keeping you flush against him.
You’re out of breath when he pulls away, the loud cheers around making you snap out of your thoughts and realize what’s going on. Beomgyu holds your hand again, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Can we go now?” You nod this time, squeezing his hand tightly as he pulls you away from the crowd, getting out of the house without looking back once.
You don’t look back either, your eyes fixed on your intertwined hands, unable to think straight as he pulls you towards Lae’s car, Taehyun and Kai already waiting inside.
He holds your hand throughout the whole ride without a single word, only letting you go when the car stops in front of your house and you step outside, your gaze lingering on him until Lea drives off and you’re finally able to break down, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks.
You don’t want to get out of your bed the next morning, frowning when the light from outside reaches your face. You hide your head under your blanket, groaning. You reach your hand out, trying to find your phone somewhere on the bed. Once you do, you’re left disappointed when you see it’s dead, slowly rolling out of the bed to charge it.
It feels like someone beat your head the whole night but you force yourself to get out of your room and find something to eat, trying your hardest to ignore the sickening feeling in your stomach that reminds you just how poor your decisions were last night.
“You’re awake,” your mom smiles from the kitchen counter, already handing you a glass of water and some scrambled eggs. You smile as you grab them from her, sitting down at the table where your dad is drinking his morning coffee. “Did you throw up last night?” He asks and you shake your head immediately, assuring him it wasn’t that bad.
“Beomgyu came by earlier,” your mom says as she settles into a chair beside you. Your eyes widen. “Asked if he could talk to you but you were asleep so I sent him back home. Did something happen?” You hesitate as you take a bite of your breakfast, remembering the way his lips felt against your last night. There’s a few things from last night that are blurry. You don’t remember how much you drank or what it was, but you remember this clearly.
“No, nothing happened,” you shake your head in the end. “It probably wasn’t that important, don’t worry about it.”
Nothing important. You try to convince yourself of that as well but as soon as you’re done eating, you rush back to your room, grabbing your phone immediately. Your lips curve into a smile when you see new messages from Beomgyu, feeling like for once, maybe life is going your way.
Beomgyu: Are you awake yet? Beomgyu: Can we talk? Beomgyu: I’m on my way to your house Beomgyu: Your mom said you’re still sleeping, just call me when you wake up? Beomgyu: I need to talk to you Beomgyu: And preferably see you as well Beomgyu: I miss you
He’s adorable. You rush to press the call button but freeze when you get a new notification. Yunaluxe shared a new story.
You click on the notification even though a part of you knows you shouldn’t. Your stomach immediately drops when you see a picture of her and Beomgyu from last night, her arm wrapped around his waist while the other holds up a drink. He is smiling, his arm around her waist as well. You feel sick as you read the caption. Love finding future celebrities before they’re famous.
You turn your phone off again and let it charge, jumping back into bed and closing your eyes, Beomgyu’s messages staying there unanswered. You can’t talk to him. Not when you know he thinks last night was a mistake. He likes Yuna, right? There’s no reason for him to talk to you.
Life never goes your way.
It hurts avoiding him, but it hurts even more seeing him. You turn away every time you catch just a glimpse of Beomgyu in the hallways, avoiding all his messages and calls. It’s been four days since you properly looked at your phone, not wanting to see what he texted you. You can’t. You’re sure that if you read his messages you’d cry again, and you’ve had enough of that.
So instead, you buried yourself in work. You took a shift every day of this week and once your classes ended, you ran to the basketball court immediately to be with Heeseung and Jake, making sure there wasn’t a minute you could meet or think about Beomgyu.
It worked.
At least until it didn’t.
You hear your name from behind, squeezing your eyes shut at the familiarity of it. You want to run away and pretend you didn’t hear him but before you can do so, he grabs your hand and your eyes widen. You slowly turn around, pulling your hand away from him. “Hey,” you greet him awkwardly.
He sighs. You expect him to accuse you of avoiding him, be mad, or even yell at you. Instead, he does the complete opposite. “Hi,” he says simply, his voice as soft as you remember it. You meet his eyes hesitantly, your heart shattering into tiny pieces when he smiles at you. “Can we talk?”
He doesn’t give you the chance to refuse, pulling you aside so you don’t stand in the way of other students. You’re both quiet for a while, unsure of what you’re supposed to say. An apology hangs at the tip of your tongue but the words never come out, the nervousness building up more and more the longer you stand there.
Eventually, you break the awkward silence. “It looks like your wish became reality.” His eyes widen, looking at you confusedly. You clear your throat, looking away. “Yuna likes you, it’s super obvious. You’ve been talking to her, right? I’m sure it’s going well for the two of you.”
“What? No– you– are you serious?” Now this is more in the tone of how you expected this conversation to go, the annoyance in his voice clear as day. “This has nothing to do with her. I wanted to talk to you. To you, about you.”
“Did Taehyun get used to her yet? I’m sure she’s also eating lunch with you now, right? I hope he isn’t making it too hard for you,” you say as if you couldn’t hear anything he said.
“Can’t you hear me?” He questions, taking a step forward. “This is not about Yuna or anyone else, I don’t care what Taehyun thinks of her. And no, she is not fucking eating lunch with us, which you would know if you weren’t running away from me. Seriously? Can’t you just talk to me, please.”
His voice breaks at the end and you have to bite the inside of your cheek. No, you can’t talk to him. It’s too hard. Too painful. You need to run away from him, this conversation, everything he makes you feel.
“I can’t,” you admit, focusing everything you have left on making sure your voice doesn’t break. If it did, you’re sure you’d cry. “I can’t, Beomgyu. Please, just go be happy with her and let me get over you in peace. I want to be your friend, I really do, but I need to be alone at first to be able to do that.”
Beomgyu opens his mouth to argue, tell you how stupid it all is and that he doesn’t want you to do that, that he needs you closer than ever now. You walk away before he can do so, breathing heavily as you turn your back to him. It’s not fair.
It’s the only thing both of you can think about. It’s not fair.
It’s not fair he gets to walk around all happy with his dream girl liking him back while you have to watch, every word that comes out of his mouth breaking you in a different way.
It’s not fair you get to walk away and look for closure while he is left standing there alone, unable to do anything but watch you as he regrets everything that happened in the past few weeks. As he regrets everything except for you.
Beomgyu doesn’t need to speak for his friends to know something is wrong. As soon as he walks into the club room and sits down, it’s obvious he isn’t okay. Taehyun and Kai exchange a quick look before walking over to him, sitting beside him without a word.
“Is everything…good?” Taehyun asks awkwardly, immediately shutting his eyes closed and regretting how off he sounds. “Perfect,” Beomgyu mumbles, only confirming their worries. “What happened?”
Beomgyu hesitates, staying quiet for a while and repeating everything inside his head. Yeah, what did happened? When did everything go so fucking wrong? “We kissed,” he admits with a sigh. “Who?” Kai frowns and Taehyun immediately slaps his shoulder, shaking his head. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, your name leaving his lips before he can stop it. “On the party. And as you might have noticed, she’s been ignoring me since.”
“Wait, slow down, you kissed her? I thought you wanted Yuna?” Kai asks confusedly, the surprise in his voice obvious. “Dude, it was so obvious they have feelings for each other,” Taehyun says and Beomgyu immediately turns his head towards him. “You think she has feelings for me?” He wonders, a little too excited.
“I know she does. Have you seen the way she looks at you?”
A smile forms on his lips, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared when he remembers you don’t want to see him right now, even if you do like him. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now. She doesn’t want me around and says I should be with Yuna.”
“Wasn’t that what you always wanted?” Beomgyu glares at Kai and the poor boy raises his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, you can’t blame her when Yuna has been the only thing you’ve been able to talk about for weeks.”
“That’s not true,” he argues even though he doesn’t believe it himself.
“It’s slightly true,” Taehyun nods. “But it’s definitely not lost yet,” he assures him quickly when he sees the pain in his eyes. “I know you and I know her, you two are way too good friends to be able to stay apart for so long. I’ve known you for years, Beomgyu, and as long as I’ve known you, Soobin was always your best friend. But after meeting her? It was so painfully obvious you like her the most out of all of us. I wondered all the time if you only see her as a friend. And she looks at you the same. Like you’re the whole world.”
Beomgyu doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how. Silence takes over the room again and Taehyun wonders if he said something wrong, nervously glancing at Kai.
“Do you want to cancel practice today? We don’t have to have one. We are basically perfect,” the youngest asks carefully but Beomgyu just shakes his head, standing up slowly. “No, we should practice. The spring festival is in a few days and we can’t mess up. I’ve heard some recording companies will be there.”
They don’t argue with him, following him to their instruments without saying anything else. The silence is weird, uncomfortable, and it makes Taehyun and Kai uneasy. It’s the first time since they started playing together that their practice was this quiet.
Beomgyu grumbles as he keeps messing up the chords, his head too loud compared to the silence in the room. It’s unbearable. But he pushes through anyway, not wanting to bother his friends with something so small as a failed crush he realized he had too late.
It’s only when Taehyun suggests playing a different song that he finally manages to play somewhat stable. The right melody finally echoing through the club room. And as Taehyun starts singing and Beomgyu prepares for his verse, his mind drifts off again. He sees you, standing right in front of him and cheering him on with your big eyes, watching him like he is the star.
And in that moment, it feels like all of his pain vanishes, only the happy memories he has with you remaining.
“I need to go,” he blurts out all of a sudden, quickly packing his guitar. His friends watch him confusedly, blinking as he runs off without another word, unsure of what to do now.
Beomgyu doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that it was he who insisted on having this practice or that he was a complete mess until now. There’s something more important to do at the moment than to drown himself in sadness. He has a song to write.
You’re not sure about this. You stare down at your outfit, thinking if you should change again. You’re wearing a light blue dress that you’d normally love but for some reason can’t seem to feel good in right now.
“You look gorgeous, I promise. Beomgyu is going to fall to his knees when he sees you,” Heeseung assures you, watching you from your bed. But it’s not about whether he’ll like it or not, you don’t even know if you want him to. Jake turns off his phone and looks at you as well, a soft smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head at you. “It’s beautiful. No need to stress it. We’re going there to have fun, not for some dumb dude. What was his name? Beomhuj? Or something like that.” You giggle as Jake playfully winks at you, making you feel better without having to try much.
You’re glad they are going with you. You don’t think you’d be able to go alone. When you met Soobin in the hallway two days ago, he offered to go with you and you doubted he knew anything about what happened with you and Beomgyu so you simply rejected his offer softly. You weren’t going to go anyway. Just last night, you were set on staying home and laying in bed with your comfort movies, but then Heeseung and Jake came over, also set on something—making you go with them.
You weren’t in the mood to argue with them and so you got dressed, letting them convince you.
And now, you’re standing right behind the barricade with each boy on your side, awkwardly looking around the empty podium. You told yourself you weren’t excited, that you were there simply because your friends made you, so why were you searching for a certain boy with your eyes the whole time?
Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai walk on the podium shortly after, the cheers and whistles loud around you. Even though you’re supposed to feel sad, mad even, all you are at the moment is proud. They are incredible. You know how hard they worked up to this point and seeing the crowd cheering for them makes you giddy. They deserve this, no matter what anyone else says.
You watch Beomgyu introduce their band, his eyes nervously scanning the whole crowd. It might be just your imagination but you swear you catch a glimpse of his smile when his eyes finally land on you, clearing his throat as Kai starts playing the drums and music takes over the place.
You smile as you listen to their music, all the sadness and emptiness you felt before washing off. You can’t help it. Even though a part of you wants to run away and hide so you never have to see him again, your other half heals when you listen to him. It always had.
The song comes to an end and Beomgyu glances at his bandmates quickly before wrapping his hand around the mic, smiling at the crowd.
“This is the first time we’re playing this song and it’s quite fresh, so I’m sorry if we sound a bit off,” he laughs awkwardly. “I wrote it at my worst and best at the same time. This one is for, uhm, a special someone,” he proclaims, avoiding eye contact as he thinks over his words. “It’s for the girl who makes me feel so much at once I’m unable to think straight, someone who has been there with me even when I was so oblivious it hurt her,” you see him glance at you briefly, his eyes saying everything you wanted to hear after accepting the fact you like him. You swallow a lump in your throat, shifting nervously and glancing at the two boys beside you.
“This one is called Because of you. I hope you like it.”
You blink confusedly as the melody surrounds you, the excitement in your eyes obvious as you look at Heeseung to make sure you’re not dreaming. He has a playful smirk on his lips, nodding as if he could read your mind completely.
“You laughed at things I couldn’t say, And made them rhyme inside my chest, I thought I’d lost the words one day, But with you, I found the rest,”
Beomgyu’s voice makes you melt in an instant, your eyes glued to his as he sings his song, a song just for the two of you. You get your serenade, you realize. A song he wrote for you and no one else. Your smile widens, cheering him on with the rest of the crowd, causing his grin to widen as well.
“Because of you, I raise my voice, Not to impress, but to rejoice, You turned the noise into a song, And showed me where my words belong, I used to run, now I stand through, Because of you,”
The words play in your head the same way the first song you’ve heard him play did, the melody already stuck in your head as you hum along, singing with him as if you’ve known the song for years. Maybe it’s because it’s him, maybe because it’s the two of you, but you don’t care. Not when he stares at you throughout the whole song, even though you know Yuna is somewhere in the crowd as well.
As soon as the song ends, Beomgyu glances at Taehyun for reassurance, giggling when he sees the proud nod he gives him. He rolls his eyes playfully when he sees how excited Beomgyu is, shaking his head. “Do I need to tell you everything? Get down there,” he encourages.
Beomgyu turns towards the crowd again, laughing awkwardly. “If you guys excuse me for a moment.” He doesn’t wait for their answer, doesn’t wait for anything really as he puts away his guitar and rushes down the podium to the barricade. You watch him with amusement, giggling softly as Jake claps beside you.
“Hi,” he smiles as soon as he stands in front of you. You giggle again, hiding your face in your hands. “Hey.” Beomgyu holds your hands and brings them away so he can look at you, an annoyingly beautiful smile spread across his lips as he pulls you closer and connects your lips with his again.
It’s the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting more, making you feel absolutely drunk on him. You kiss him back without hesitation, smiling. If every kiss with him feels like butterflies exist in your stomach—you want to kiss him forever.
He pulls back a little breathless, resting his forehead against yours.
“It’s you. Deep down, I knew it’s always been you.”
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