Soft hour - husband!Seungcheol x f.reader; where you take care of your husband (💖)
Soft love - husband!Seungcheol x f.reader;
Days - boyfriend!Seungcheol x f.reader; (💖)
Love - boyfriend!Seungcheol x reader; fluff
Blue - boyfriend!Seungcheol x reader
Regrets - boss!Seungcheol x f.reader, one bed trope, pining, fluff, romance
Loving your boss is frowned upon. Hundreds of incidents suggest you to bottle your feelings and put on a professional upfront. Things get out of hand on the two days and one night work trip. You are nothing but a putty in hands of your boss, Choi Seungcheol.
Word Count: 5.7k
Falling for you - Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, secret relationship, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
ffy masterlist
Jungle - fighter!Seungcheol x f.reader, bad boy x good girl, fluff, angst, smut
teaser 1, teaser 2 (coming soon)
Perfect Kind Stranger - ceo!Seungcheol x f.reader, marriage of convenience, fluff, romance, comedy, angst.
Never decide on anything when you are fresh out of a condescending relationship. If you decide to go against all the odds, at least don't sign away your life just because devil's whispers tempt you.
foreword
⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚𝒥𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒽𝒶𝓃⋆*・゚:⋆*・゚
Hair tie - boyfriend!Jeonghan, fluff
Sienna - exes!au, angst, yearning.(💖)
Moon and his tides - soulmates au, angst
In a world of soulmates and red string, you are a defective. With a blank for a soulmate mark, you convinced yourself to finally accept that, for this life, you are alone. Until your enemy, Yoon Jeonghan, starts popping up everywhere.
Homemakeover Project - neighbour!Jeonghan x singlemom!reader
Hayoon, your one-year-old daughter, drags you along with her in her shenanigans, only this time, involving a kind neighbor who promises to help you with your dress.
Hothouse Flower - exes!au, angst, fluff, yearning, second chance romance, little hints of soulmate red string belief (💖)
Summary - Your five year relationship with him ended two years ago. You need to move on, have to, since you are the only one stuck in the past. Jeonghan moved on, happy, gallivanting away. When you finally agree to meet up a fellow heartbroken stranger set up by 'Get Love Quick', you didn't expect to see him there.
Word count - 40k
Part - 1, Part - 2
༊*·˚ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ 𝒥𝑜𝓈𝒽𝓊𝒶 ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ *·˚༊
Mistletoe Festival - rivals to lovers, romance, comedy, small town au, fluff, angst (coming soon)
𝓢𝓸𝓸𝓷𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰
down bad - Kwon Soonyoung x f.reader, angst, fluff, pining
Soonyoung is ethereal, you conclude at the end of the party, and so does the heartbreak that follows him.
It's a dangerous game you are playing, calling someone else funny when your boyfriend is sitting right there. [sequel to shh]
'*•.¸♡ 𝒲𝑜𝓃𝓌𝑜𝑜 ♡¸.•*'
Flowers - boyfriend!Wonwoo
𝔀𝓸𝓸𝔃𝓲
Touch - established relationship au!, fluff, physical touch; part -1 (💖)
Punishment- established relationship au!, fluff, physical touch; part - 2
Distance- established relationship au!, fluff, physical touch part - 3
Jealousy- established relationship au!, fluff, physical touch part - 4
Wednesday night - friends to (almost) lovers, pining
Expert Reader - friends to (almost) lovers, pining
Follow - Ptah!Jihoon x Sekhmat!reader
Jihoon hears about the destruction of his prized creations, blood trickling down the green fields he carefully crafted, wars blooming in the regions he built peace, forcing him out of his home to find the destroyer, who is none other than you, his wife.
𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓴𝓶𝓲𝓷
Chase - demi god!Seokmin x f.reader, fluff, office au
Lee Seokmin, your coworker, is a human form of sunshine, or so you thought. Until one evening, you spend overtime with him, when he shows you who he really is.
New Year - husband!Seokmin x f.reader, fluff
one more new year with your husband who doesn't know the word 'personal space'.
シシ𝐻𝒶𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓁シシ
Butterflies - dad!Hansol
Strawberry Cake - bestfriend!Hansol, friends to lovers au, fluff
𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷
bride - popularactress!reader x strugglingactor!Chan, 1920s, fluff, angst, slow buildup
Actress Jung, known for her spectacular hits Love, Forevermore, and La Vie En Rose,that is still housing the Capitol Movie Palace is back on the screen after a year of disappearance. Finally her hiatus comes to an end with a new movie, the bride, in production. Gossip is that the movie is inspired from her calamitous love life that has people wondering how a person, a woman, can fall in love seven times.
Will she get her heart broken for the eighth time with her rumored clandestine Choi Seungcheol or will she break her curse of ‘always a bridesmaid but never the bride’ with the entry of a new male actor in town, Lee Chan.
Hi! Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to let you now nowadays I'm reblogging and reposting your new entries of your Cheol fanfic from my writing blog (it's the same name only adding '-writes'). I just didn't want you think I'm ignoring your post haha loved today's chapter!
Heyyy!!!
It’s not a bother at all!! I enjoy answering asks so please feel free to send as many as you want!! And yes, I understood that you are interacting with your new account. Always grateful!!!
the new ffy chapter I could cry for both Seungcheol and the fmc ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️
feel so bad for the both of them I can’t 😔😔😔😔when will they be happy but also I’ve said this so much but truly your writing is so amazing thank you for letting us experience this for free🙏🫶
-🫧
haha yeah i did say before that once cheol’s pov comes people can’t hate him. he’s just a human who makes mistakes and learns from them kind of? idk if i make sense.
I’m truly grateful you feel that way about my writing. I still feel I lack a lot and idk hate it? Today is a weird day sorry for the tmi.
Next chap will be good, and I think few more chapters and this fic will be done. I can see the end.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, family issues, some violence but not towards people, reader is diabetic, kinda unedited
wc: 7.5k
c's note: :) thank you @choco-scoups for reading over it and telling me it is good. lemme know how you felt reading this chapter!
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Seungcheol’s finger circles on the smooth dial of his watch. The meeting room’s lights reflect off of the silver of the dial as he watches the seconds hand make its round. This one cost him a fortune, the navy color attracted his attention creating a desire to get his hands on it. He did. Another quest done.
The door opens. He minimizes the browser tab of his next quest, a new collection released from his favorite brand. Another quest soon to start. He stands up from his chair, wincing at the squeaking sound it does, welcoming in the new joinees.
A man looms at the door, peeking in, “Mr.Choi?” He enters the room, holding the door open for the second one.
Seungcheol remembers to check for their names in the mail. He has been so out of touch since his schedule has been hectic and demanding, and also there’s you who is still not talking with him and the gnawing regret that always follows the thoughts of you.
He finds the mail chain—Jeonghan, Jieun. Jieun?
Jeonghan naturally takes the chair across from him with a woman occupying the one next to him. Jieun. Seungcheol’s world tilts across the axis, everything falling across the domains he carefully separated and segregated. He never allows one part of his life to collide with others. But life is a bitch. And he is here, standing across from his ex.
She smiles at him, professional and personal intertwined, a knowing smile. Seungcheol clenches his jaw taking his seat, he stares at the mail sitting in his inbox.
The mail has been in his inbox for two days. How can he miss it? If the recruitment was a quick process, that means she might have interviewed after he picked her up from the middle of nowhere. Or was it ongoing by then? How come she didn’t mention it once during the hour long ride.
A perfect ploy.
Seungcheol fists his hand under the table. He must not lose control. Without sparing a single glance at her, he opens the presentation on his laptop. “I know you are already aware of me,” he speaks to Jeonghan, a bit unprofessional not considering her too, but she should have thought about it when she purposefully hid it, “Choi Seungcheol, your team lead, but call me Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan grins, “so no sir?”
Seungcheol’s lips twitch, “no sir.” He clicks on the presentation mode on his laptop, the slides present on the TV that is connected. “Brad should be giving this induction, but an important call has kept him from joining us. I’ll make it as quick as I can. If you guys can briefly introduce yourselves.”
Jeonghan gestures for Jieun to go first. She smiles gratefully at him before turning to Seungcheol. “I’m Jieun. I have heard a lot about this team, especially about your leadership, excited to be working with you.”
“I’m not the manager. Just a team lead.” He clarifies, a bit glad that she didn’t bring in their personal history into this. “Whatever you have heard, it’s all Brad.”
Her eyebrows knit together. He moves on to Jeonghan, waiting for him to speak. The friendly grin slips back onto Jeonghan’s lips, and Seungcheol just knows he is gonna be more than colleagues with him. Just how Soonyoung and he did before Soonyoung moved away.
“Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. Jieun was right, I too, heard a lot about you. The teams don’t talk usually, but everyone did when they knew which project I was joining.” Jeonghan relaxes a bit in his seat, Seungcheol narrows his eyes, suspicious that this new guy is already comfortable. “So there’s that.”
Seungcheol gives a small smile, turning to the slideshow, “shall we get started?”
—
Seungcheol knows that other teams talk about him. Or tries to talk to him. The game goes this way, always, they come up to him, mostly the female coworkers, with a doubt or a workflow process or status update, based on the query he analyses the real motivation behind it.
Not all doubts are professional. Not everyone gets to know him personally. He hates to get involved with someone from the workplace. Or with no friends. He always has an invisible line he follows, building the walls higher, and not letting his dating world mix with his work life or friendships.
And then there is you.
He stands on the wide expanse of the balcony looking over the one end of the city. The sea meets its shore, small ripples as it rushes towards the land. A gloomy sky threatens down on the city, always carrying a threat of rain, hiding the sun behind its crying clouds.
He doesn’t enjoy the rain, the roads get murky and his clothes damp from running from the building to his car and vice versa. This city, a cold city, has been his home ever since he was born here, went to the school, and spent his youth, adulthood, but never once he felt he was home.
“That's one beauty.” Jeonghan steps beside him, looking over the overwhelming blue, and the ships that slowly sail across. “This view is one of the main reasons I wanted to work here.”
Seungcheol pockets his cold hands inside his hoodie. “A view is more important than the growth, and compensation a company offers?”
Jeonghan shrugs, “have you seen the ocean?”
Seungcheol turns to the blue sea. “My entire life.”
Jeonghan laughs, “that’s the problem with you locals.” He rests his arms on the railings, closing his eyes when a gentle breeze brushes past them in a silent greeting. “You don’t realise it’s beauty. Because it’s just there and you never looked for it.”
Seungcheol watches the slow ripples. “It’s a routine you’ll get used to. Give it a month and you’ll be rethinking your decision. Compensation will start looking tempting then.”
Jeonghan laughs, “funny guy.” He straightens up, “let’s put a pin on that. After thirty days let’s discuss it again.”
Seungcheol eyes the male, the underlying challenge and his determined smile. The strong belief that his feelings will not change with time is something that makes Seungcheol laugh. But he doesn’t. He gives a single nod, and looks back at the sea.
The same green ship he looked ever since he can start forming memories sails in its pursuit to the other end of the land.
Things tend to get boring. And Seungcheol knows it firsthand.
—
The office hours aren’t over yet. Two more fucking hours to be spent in this godawful pretentious office before he can go back to his lonely abode. The work is sitting right across him, on the screen, waiting for him to complete it. Seungcheol’s on his phone, yet again.
Social media is a weird place. He didn’t always associate himself with the happenings of almost strangers—his friends aka followers—life, or specifically go look for them. It sort of happened. Just how Soonyoung came into his life, eventually you did and he somehow found himself erasing the number one rule he set on himself, well, maybe second. The first being not interacting with his family for more than three hours. Something about mental health and not falling into a pit hole called depression or melancholy.
Second being not fucking his friend. Or having any sort of physical relationships with someone close.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, his jaw flexing as the memories of the night that started it all flashes before him. He sits up in his chair, unbuttoning the collar and watches the blank computer screen in front of him. He drops the phone on the desk, clicking his mouse and invests himself in the work. He will do anything to escape from the vice grip that night holds on him.
Two minutes in, and he is already reaching for his phone, unlocking it. There it is, your profile, ready for his hundredth exploration since that impromptu meeting on Saturday, and his self-inflicted break from you. In the middle of the night, during a monotone meeting, right after shutting his alarm in the morning, and during his break hour, he swiftly checks on the posts or stories you have posted, if there’s none, he scrolls down to see your older posts.
Some might call him a stalker. But no one knows him, so he is still plain Seungcheol for everyone.
You have added a new story. Seungcheol clicks on it, a poem.
I waited for so long for love
and suddenly, here it is
standing in the garden, hands full
of heirlooms hot from the sun.
Soon we’ll make a supper of them.
Salted slabs between slices of bread.
Your bread silvers. My hips ripen.
The mail piles up.
Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us.
Our mouths are full of tomatoes.
We are so busy
being small and hungry and alive.
Tomatoes
Joy Sullivan
Seungcheol sets the phone on the white desk, looming over it rereading the lines again. What does this actually mean? He remembers the piles of books he found everywhere in your home, a book always lying around on the desk, corners of the couch, in the kitchen, and your bedroom is a temple of books. And he barely passed his lit course in school.
The story moves to some person’s highlight of their lives. Seungcheol goes back to your story, now a new comment added to it.
soo you want me to bring you some tomatoes?
Seungcheol sits back in his chair, humming in thought. Are you out of groceries just like Soonyoung suggested? The story has already moved on to several peoples’. Seungcheol grunts, going back to your profile and opening your story again. Now only your story will be played or the app takes back to your profile once the thirty second display is done. He would rather sit and stare at Clementine on your profile picture than some random food pictures or men diving or women laughing over drinks.
Vernon adds another comment.
here you dropped this
It’s an emoji of brain. And then the group is sending tomato emoji.
why did i even post this
And the story is deleted.
You are not out of your groceries then? He refreshes your page, just in case you posted anything new. None. So he scrolls through your page, pausing over Clementine pictures and opening a few poetry posts. Not one picture of you.
He opens Soonyoung’s profile, scrolling down, pausing his thumb right where the carousel of the pictures are. He is quick in swiping past the first three photos, and there you are, captured between your unrestricted laugh.
Seungcheol’s shoulders slouches down, he zooms in on your smile, and the crinkle at the end of your eyes he knows that will be there, and just, the whole existence of you, he stares at it for a long moment.
“What are you smiling at?”
He is quick to lock his phone before Jieun can peek into it. He squares his shoulders, his defences taking their positions, and his irritation meter spiking to the red.
“What do you want?”
Jieun stares at his phone, and then at him, “with some less venom in your words will be a good starting point of what I need from you.”
Before his irritation meter can break, he excuses himself and leaves to the coffee room. Jieun follows him, her flowery scent filling the room. He rubs his itchy nose with the back of his hand, checking the time on the wall clock. Only thirty minutes have passed.
“Seungcheol, I know you are angry,” she shoves herself between the coffee machine and him, he sneezes into his elbow, taking a few steps back, “but please, listen to me, I didn’t know they’ll put me into your team.”
“They did,” he grits his teeth, reaching out for tissues, “in the end, didn’t they?”
“It’s not my fault.” She points out. “I have the freedom to work wherever I want.”
Seungcheol is glad this section of the office is empty. “Lower your voice. Please.” He maintains a respectful space between them. “You have the freedom, of course, you do. Didn’t you think of informing me once? The entire two hours drive you kept on updating about your life, even updated about the receptionist in your damn apartment but not once you are interviewing here or anything.”
Jieun looks lost for words. It all comes back to him, the time he was involved with her, the moments he held onto just because he wanted to try and be a better person, a relationship kind of guy.
“You know how I feel getting involved with someone at work. Crossing boundaries.” The words bite back his own skin, the nights he spent in your bed, the laughs, the mistakes, haunts him and Seungcheol feels restless. His rash decisions will eat him one day. He knows this. “We are not in a relationship anyway,” he trashes the crumpled tissue, seemingly done with everything, “and I want to keep our history in a closed book. I want us to be professional in and out of the office. So please stop searching for me if it’s not for work.”
Seungcheol exits the room without a second thought or a glance.
—
The week doesn’t get any better. It only pummels him down to the ground. The mansion, his parents’ house, awaits in front of him. The same smell of grass, the housekeepers moving about their day breaking their backs for his mom and the need to satisfy her. He knows the feeling. He lived in this house for twenty years. And he could only breathe normally outside those damn huge gates.
He exits his car, nodding his head to the same man, Mr. Jung, who has been in charge of the house ever since his childhood. The elder man only returns a gentle smile that is always present on his face whenever he sees him. Seungcheol ascend the small steps, reaching the door, his reflection staring back at him on the glass mirror. He averts his eyes from his face, opening the door and bracing himself as if he is entering a war.
Today marks thirty-third wedding anniversary of his parents. A celebration. The house is big, spacious with minimal furniture and decor pieces his mom carefully collected and designed. Beige and brown. A color combination he came to hate from seeing it everywhere for twenty years.
The click of his shoes resounds the high ceilings, he sets the present on the coffee table before he goes to the dining hall. He checks the time on his watch, six in the evening, and he has two hours and fifty minutes more. After that he has to escape from here. In the three hours, he has to keep a good grip over his anger. It’s not worth the cold treatment that encompasses him the weeks after. He is tired from work and life as it is. He doesn’t need to add more to it.
The dining hall is sparkling under the chandelier hanging over the table. Korean cuisine spread over the long table, the dark orange soups, the sizzling meat, and the steam from the hot food has his stomach grumbling. He remembers that he didn’t eat a single meal the entire day, too cooped up in his work.
He shrugs off his jacket, a butler steps in accepting it from him, and disappears into one of the many rooms. Seungcheol stands in the middle of the huge hall where he spent hours sitting alone during his school. The corner chair at the end of the table he always sat stared back at him. The books he spread over waiting for his parents or brother to come home, talk or play with him. The adult Seungcheol scoffs at his own innocence. Talk or play? They barely know which year he is in.
Seungcheol moves to the kitchen, nodding to the greetings from the cooks and maids, he calmly cleans his hands, accepts a hand towel from a maid and exits back to the dining table. He drags the chair at the corner end, making himself comfortable. He had twenty years of experience in experimenting with the right angle to sit so he can get cozy in this huge open house.
“Mr. and Mrs. Choi are stuck in traffic, they’ll be here soon, young master.” Mr.Jung announces. “Shall I serve some snacks in the meantime?”
Seungcheol gives a tight smile, “I’m not a child, Mr. Jung. It’s fine, I’ll wait for them.”
A sad upturn of smile on Mr. Jung’s face has Seungcheol to turn his face away to the phone in his hands. No matter how many years pass, no matter how old he gets, this house never fails in making him feel what ten years old Seungcheol felt. As if he will always be the ten year old boy here, waiting, longing, push-over.
“Sure, sir.” Mr. Jung bows, his old bones cracking, “Your brother is already here. He will join you in ten minutes.”
Mr. Jung leaves Seungcheol to his own devices before Seungcheol can ask him about his health or family. Regret sits on the tip of his tongue watching the slouched back of the old man who made sure to never leave him alone. He hates this house, always for making him feel things he runs away from.
He unlocks his phone, opens the social media, and quick to search for your profile. No new stories or posts. Not even a capture of Clementine on her walk. He scrolls down, opening a compilation of poems. Something about oranges or clementines or tangerines.
Why are you always posting about fruits and vegetables? You always push away them while eating. He doesn’t understand the meaning behind the simple words that sit in those poems, always going over his head and it’s not like he has someone to teach the essence of the words and the feelings they carry to the heart.
A chair scrapes across the shiny white marble floor. Seungcheol grips his phone, not looking up at the person who joined him. His brother too doesn’t acknowledge Seungcheol’s presence. Nothing ever changes in this house.
He exits your profile unable to invest too much of his brain to decipher the poems he read time and time. Sohyeon has a story up, and Mina too. His stomach gives a familiar lurch. They met. And Seungcheol didn’t know. Again.
It’s a blurry image of cards, snacks. Mina posted a short video, the laughter and music and loud voices blasts out of his phone to this silent house, he exits the story in a heartbeat. He locks the phone, clasps his hands and stares at the ceiling, the lights flicker beautifully. A hollow feeling blankets him.
Footsteps echo. Seungcheol snaps out, his eyes struggling to adjust after watching the bright lights for god knows how long. His parents are already pulling their chairs and sitting. His father at the head of the table, and his mom leaves the two empty chairs and sits in the middle.
“The traffic was long.” His father grunts, already irritated and angry. “Why didn’t you start? Why do you think the food is already served?”
The maids rush to serve food. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, letting them do their work. Once the food is served, his family begins eating in silence except for the sounds from chopsticks and the bowls. He devours the food, realising he is starving.
“Stop inhaling your food.” His mother scolds, “where are your manners? That’s why I don’t want you kids to live on your own. Manners picked up from who knows what places. Your father doesn’t understand the concept as he himself lacks a few.”
Seungcheol shuts his eyes. It’s starting. He slows down chewing, sitting straighter and holding the cutlery in a proper way.
“What do you mean?” His father barks out, dropping the spoon into his bowl of soup, the orange liquid splattering all over the place. “Watch your mouth.”
Seungcheol scoops more rice into his empty bowl.
“Boys learn from their father.” His mother doesn’t back down, snapping her finger at a maid to clean the mess. “Isn’t that why he is living with that,” she shuts her mouth in disgust to even say her name, “vile woman?”
Seungcheol’s brother slams his chopsticks down, his hand accidentally hitting the bowl of rice, sending it toppling on the floor. “Respect. Speak of her with respect.”
His mother crosses her arms, sending a pointed look at her husband. Like father, like son.
Seungcheol stares at the empty bowl of rice, when did he even eat it? A maid helps him in getting more rice, while the other moves silently cleaning the mess. He wonders who will clean the mess of this family.
His father thunders, “what are you insinuating?”
“If only you didn’t fuck that young secretary of yours, your children wouldn’t have learned to seek the same!”
And just like that Seungcheol transports back to that evening. He came home early ditching his classes. The maids were tense and in a hurry to get him into his room. Mr. Jung, determined to lead him to his bed under the ruse of his new gaming CD has arrived.
He heard a sound he never heard in his lifetime. His father is laughing and coddling a young woman. A happiness he never saw written all over his father’s face. He looked young next to her, a woman who is not his mother.
“More rice, young master.” The maid sets the bowl, scurrying back to the kitchen.
Seungcheol looks over at his father who is stricken by the words. Their eyes met for a brief second, his father saw him that evening, and he remembers the same now.
His father turns away, spitting the words, “you never change.”
He leaves the table. The silence is back again. Seungcheol looks at his half empty plate and bowl. Suddenly feeling so full that he will vomit at the idea or sight of food. He turns to Mr. Jung standing in a corner who nods in return.
Maids clear his plates. He sits there, waiting for his family to be done. His brother eats his food, stuffing his face. His mother is delicate about it, taking her time to eat, never leaving her manners even if there’s an empty chair at the head of the table. Her wedding ring sparkles under the chandelier lights.
Seungcheol is glad that his finger is empty.
“Break up with her.” His mother addresses his elder son. “She is no good news.”
The reply is throwing the plate to the ground and also a loud slam of the chair falling to the floor as he leaves. With no second thoughts or second glance.
His mother continues to eat, grabbing a piece of kimchi and putting it on top of her flavoured rice. She looks small, her hand shaking as she brings the spoon to her mouth. The unshed tears also sparkle like the diamond on her finger.
Seungcheol swallows. He sits there until she completes her dinner.
—
The TV screen illuminates the dark apartment. The sport commentary fills the silence. Seungcheol follows the players, the game between two teams whom he isn’t rooting for. It’s Thursday, and he has absolutely nothing to do.
He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and lies down on the couch, then flips to his side and then angles his neck, he sits up, giving up. Can he get any more listless?
The commentators whoops as one of the player scores. Seungcheol flips the channel to some old movies, two minutes into the movie he exits and opens a streaming service. He plays a random movie knowing well enough that he isn’t gonna stick to it either.
The routine starts again. He sits cross-legged, leans back and then lies down and before he can angle his neck properly his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.
He answers in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Clementine is asking for you.” Soonyoung screams on the other end. “Uh, and also bring beer. She needs to have a drink. Bye.”
Someone scoffs on his side and the line cuts. Seungcheol stares at his phone, blinking once, twice, and he is reaching for his keys, turning off the TV.
—
Three weeks. It has been three fucking long weeks since he last saw you—in person, not on someone else’s stories. His self inflicted break from you has not helped in any sense, rather his screen time has grown and he learned new words like Hamartia.
Seungcheol sets the case of beers on the table alongside the food. The apartment is crowded, rowdier and hosting new people. He leans against the table, unzipping his hoodie watching the two new men sitting on the couch. Clementine stuck to one of them, the tallest one.
Three weeks and she has forgotten about him. He balls the hoodie, moving across the living room and opens the closet, shoving it in. If a dog, dubbed as the loyal creature on this planet, can move on from him, he can’t dare to think about what you are feeling.
He moves across the room, occupying one of the idle chairs, looking around the apartment. It is still the same, the books are everywhere, throw blankets overflowing and food scent wafting through. If he is to slide his hand underneath this chair he bets his entire worth that he will find a book.
“Soonyoung, get the fuck out!” Your shrill scream from the kitchen breaks the serenity in the room, everyone pausing to look at the kitchen. “Hands off. Did you even wash? I’ll kill you, let’s end this today.”
Just like that everyone moves on. Nothing has changed. Seungcheol smiles to himself at you screaming at Soonyoung, the agitation only he can bring out of you.
“Don’t we have to help her?” The giant asks Vernon. “I think she needs help. Clementine baby, let me go pacify your mom before she pulls out her friend’s head, okay baby?” He carefully sets her head on the couch, giving a few rubs before running towards the kitchen.
Seungcheol stares at his clasped hands. What?
Sohyeon and Mina giggles among themselves, checking over the kitchen, apparently the most happening spot tonight, and giggles some more.
Seungcheol frowns, the long strands of his hair poking into his eyes, he brushes them away, only to fall back on his eyes. He leans back, glaring at the kitchen that now houses laughter, laughter from you.
“I never heard her that happy.” Mina sighs, dreamily, “she found her happiness. Finally.”
What?
The glasses guy, somehow familiar yet Seungcheol can’t pin a name to his face, is watching him. The frown deepens on Seungcheol’s face, not understanding what is going on here. Why are everyone acting out of their character?
Soonyoung saunters into the living room, claiming the giant’s seat. He pokes the glasses guy, a sense of familiarity already evident in their bond.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? That junior she mentioned.” Sohyeon sets her mug on the coffee table, “something about him not being an eater.”
Dread descents upon Seungcheol’s shoulders. He remembers the girls talking about a guy from your office. The one who has a crush on you. Mingyu.
Seungcheol’s body is warm, hot even. The room presses on him, a white flare of light pounding his head. He reaches for the stray beer bottle, stops remembering there are new faces and he isn’t buddy enough with them to drink from their bottles.
He surveys the area for a familiar pink imprint. None. He raises from the couch, sauntering towards the beer case, pulling out one. The music is low, some rap song he never listened to or heard playing in this household. This apartment only entertains slow steady songs, or bright songs like hey, jude. It’s been so long since he heard that song play, he should be happy that he didn’t get to hear it because if you are choosing that one it only means you are in deep shit.
Seungcheol doesn’t want that for you.
He rests his hip against the table, sipping on the semi cold drink. The nutty flavor of it doesn’t satiate his palate but this drink is his true friend for the night. Since everyone seems to forget his presence with the arrival of new shiny things.
“Jihoon, is he really dating that junior?” Mina prods the glasses guy.
Jihoon who can’t stop staring at him, finally with one slow drag of his eyes across Seungcheol’s stance, addresses the question. “Not dating. More like fucking I think.”
Sohyeon grimaces. “Crass.”
“No wonder Soonyoung likes you.” Mina gives a disgusting look at him. “What do you mean fucking? Are there no feelings involved? I don’t think a person like him is good for our sweet girl.”
“What makes you think our sweet girl isn’t involved in some frivolous activities herself?” Jihoon quirk his eyebrow.
Seungcheol swears he looked at him, as if accusing to be the partner in the sinful activity. Who the fuck is this guy? He vaguely remembers meeting him in some of the parties. Does he know anything that has been happening in the confines of these walls? Did you talk to him?
“She would never.” Sohyeon is so quick in her defence as if repulsed by the mere suggestion that Seungcheol turns away from the group. “She is too precious to do some vile actions.”
Vernon chimes in, “calm down, darlin’, she ain’t doing a sin even if she gets involved in some action.”
“Agree.” Jihoon adds.
“That’s not the point here.” Mina breaks in, “Mingyu makes her smile and laugh, she relaxes in his presence. Like they are someone that is meant to be together.”
“You got all this from one meeting?”
The disbelief and incredible look from Vernon has Mina’s cheeks pink. Jihoon pats her hand in consolation. Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the gesture.
“I mean look at them,” Mina justifies, “she didn’t even, or like, have been human for the last three weeks. Her mother visited, for god’s sake, you know how it throws her off. Soonyoung couldn’t handle the aftermath, and now she is laughing. Just because of Mingyu.”
The bottle slips a little from Seungcheol’s hand, he catches it in time and swears under his breath. He sets the bottle on the table, tapping his fingers. Fuck. Your mom visited? And he wasn’t there. What a damn prick he is.
“Shh, shh, they are coming,” Sohyeon warns the group, “so what do you think about this song?”
Seungcheol holds his breath, shadows of three people emerging from the kitchen. He chews on his lip, biting it in contemplation, it’s been three weeks, three long weeks, and you are finally in the same vicinity as him. He tastes blood on his tongue, he taps his finger on the flat surface, tilting his head watching you over his shoulder.
His breath catches in his throat. You look worse. He turns towards the group, taking you in completely. Sunken eyes. The adorable swell of your cheeks are no more. And you look weak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seungcheol gets restless, rubbing his chin, calculating how he can get you alone. Will you let him take you away? After what has gone down between you two. You called it off that night. You did. Seungcheol heard it, but he won’t let it hinder him. It is not over until he is done. And he is not done.
You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Clementine jumps off the couch, lazily, swirling around your legs. You rub behind her ears in greeting, your eyes moving across the room, checking the shoes at the entrance, a jerk in your body, frantically looking across the couch and makeshift couch, and you straighten up at the hand on your waist. Mingyu pats Clementine along with you.
Seungcheol taps his foot on the wooden floor, cracking his neck. Bloody red infiltrates his vision for a brief moment. You step away from him with a friendly smile letting him have Clementine all to himself. And you converse with Mina something about popcorn or the caramel, you are excusing yourself, moving towards where he is.
Your eyes land on him, a singular sweep from his crossed legs at ankles, the laidback form—his hips resting on the table, the gentle hold on the bottle he didn’t know when he picked up, the same mockery disbelief twitch of your lips seeing his watch, and then slow drag from his chest to his lips to his eyes. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
You stand next to him, arranging and rearranging the tissues, plates without a single greeting or acknowledgement. Yet Seungcheol, ever the pessimist and disbeliever in coincidences and fate, feels that you missed him. He can’t bring out proofs and receipts, relying on just the connection that he has with you. He just knows it.
Some things have changed, for good, he hopes.
He helps you in scooping food onto your plate. “How are your levels?”
You pause getting more salad, looking at him, eyes widened at the question. Seungcheol resists the urge to lean in closer to you, the subtle scent of soft cocoa of your body lotion luring him into the dangerous territories. He settles for squeezing ranch onto your plate.
You scoff, slapping his hand away. “They are good. And none of your concern.”
Some things didn’t change. You are still angry with him. Rightfully, so.
The list of questions on the tip of his tongue dies down. It’s been so long and you look so vulnerable, and he has so many questions. Starting with your mom and why you didn’t tell him. You always seek him out after the visits. He was always there helping you not to tip over to the darkside.
Done with plating food, you turn away, slowly, your arm brushing against his, your eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second at the contact. Seungcheol grips the ranch bottle, he knows that expression. He has seen that countless times. You do miss him.
“Hey,” Mingyu is behind you, holding the plate for you, “do you need anything else?”
The ranch squeezes out splattering across the food spread, his black tee and on Seungcheol’s face. He drops the bottle, reaching for tissues with his good hand, and dabs his shirt. The white mark just worsens.
“Fuck.” He swears, he just splurged on this shirt recently. Can at least one day go peacefully?
Soonyoung reaches out to a fry, “oh,” he dabs it in the ranch on Seungcheol’s hand, and bites onto it. “Salty.”
Will he go to jail when he beats the shit out of his close friend? Does bearing him for five years is enough reason to not go to jail after breaking his bones?
Soonyoung hums his way back to annoy Clementine by grabbing her tail. Seungcheol notices you sitting next to Mingyu with him swiping food from your plate.
The glasses guy, Jihoon, tilts his head at Seungcheol, frowning. Seungcheol throws the bottle on the table, disappearing into your room and into the bathroom.
He splashes the water onto his face, the coldness of it helps in regulating the heat radiating out of him. Why is he burning up? It’s not even summer yet. He plucks out a nearly folded towel and dabs his face.
Questions sprout inside his head. He exits the bathroom, stands in your room, the simmering heat inside him cools down. He strides towards the bed and sits on it.
Warmth spreads across him as if the room realises that he is here, welcoming him back into the secret they carry. He plucks out the book fallen onto the ground. There are pages and pages of words he can’t sit and read, two minutes in he is closing the book.
He runs his finger down the spine of the book, wondering, how much longer he has permission to be in this room, in this world they created. The atmosphere in the living room suggests that he doesn’t have much, maybe already lost it, and he is holding onto the ends of the thread.
He shouldn’t have picked up his phone that night. He shouldn’t have rushed out in worry. He should have let Jieun be stranded in a dark place, she is an adult, she could have navigated it. Fuck, he can’t live with himself knowing he left a girl in need of help. At that point of time, the safety of a woman took precedence over him having a good time.
He should have learnt to articulate the scene better, made you comfortable before leaving, reassuring and promising. Seungcheol isn’t that man, at least not at that time, learning as he grows.
He sees a shadow circling outside the door. His time is up here. He sets the book back on the nightstand. He looks around the room one last time before opening the door. Clementine jumps on him, remembering.
Some things have changed and at the same time didn’t.
Seungcheol kneels down, letting her rub herself against him. He pets her to her heart’s content, smiling at her tail wagging at high speed.
“I’m telling you,” Sohyeon is standing in the middle of the room, a bottle in her hand, “eating a girl out is more important than the act of fucking.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth knowing where this is going. He saunters to the only space available next to Vernon, Clementine sits on his feet.
Mingyu looks over at her once and then at Seungcheol. Sohyeon is ranting about female pleasure and how important it is. Mingyu is forced to address the issue, he leans back, an arm behind you, as he agrees with Sohyeon.
You calmly eat your food. Seungcheol plays with Clementine’s ears.
“I agree.” Mingyu says, “it’s essential in order to get more out of the session. Physical session.”
“One of my ex,” Mina hiccups, taking the center stage, “was so awful,” she grimaces, “so awful that he couldn’t find which is which for ten minutes.”
The group oohs in consolation.
“That’s awful.” Vernon nods, “I had a girl once vomit when she was, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed, “giving me some.”
A chorus of nooo echoes.
Mingyu snaps his fingers, jerking forward with new found enthusiasm, “that’s what I am saying. I had a horrible time once, during my college, a girl,” he shudders, “was so yuck it traumatized me to go down. For like my entire life.”
Mixed reactions go off, Clementine too, growling in a low tone. You finally look at Mingyu, curiosity written all over your face. Seungcheol drops his head down, patting Clementine.
He looks back up, and you are watching Clementine, at her closed eyes in ecstasy as Seungcheol scratches her favorite spot, your eyes trails up to his watch, following his veins, and snaps to Sohyeon as she takes back the attention.
“That’s horrible.” Sohyeon points her finger at him. “You could have guided her. The poor girl must be traumatized. You must have done something wrong!”
“I did not.” Mingyu defends with his entire chest. “I have helped her through and through.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, swirling Clementine’s soft ears between his fingers. Something doesn’t add up.
You raise your eyebrow at the lone fry on your plate, scoffing under your breath. Mingyu rearranges himself, sitting straighter and his hand no longer touching you.
Vernon taps your thigh, opening his mouth. You stab your fork onto the last fry and feed him.
“Didn’t you guys ever date? Like inside of the group?” Mingyu asks, staring at Vernon and his hand on your thigh.
Soonyoung rises from the trenches, high and red, “no. This is a sacred group, no love, no lust. I’ll kill anyone who breaks the sanctity.”
You stare at Soonyoung crooning about the essence of friendship and how feelings will ruin everything. His eyes drag up from the v shaped tee you are wearing, too loose that one sleeve of it is in verge of sliding down your shoulder. Seungcheol can’t help but look at the length of your neck, remembering the times he buried himself in the curve. He frowns at the fading mark of a hickey. Right in the place he always leaves one. But it has been three weeks, and his eyes move to the man sitting beside you.
He can’t, no, he doesn’t want to imagine a guy putting his lips on your skin. Leaving a hickey is out of the topic. All he can see is red.
You are unfazed about the passionate speech Soonyoung is giving. Are you really done with him? Did you move on from him? No, if you find someone you always let him know. You didn’t send a single text. But why would you when you ended it already?
Clementine looks up at him. He blinks, coming back to the room and feeling all eyes on him.
“What?”
“Tell me, my friend,” Soonyoung stumbles towards him, holding out the mouth of the beer bottle towards him as a mic, “confess here, the stage is yours.”
Seungcheol gulps, “confess what?”
“Your feelings about fraternizing in close circles.”
Seungcheol looks around, few moved on from Soonyoung’s atrocities, he catches your eye, waiting and how can he answer with you here, when you two did exactly what Soonyoung vehemently said no, what Seungcheol is against too. Jihoon leans in, catching him looking at you. What is with this guy and his intrusive stares as if he knows something? Fuck. If he ever just casually says his suspicions about him and you to Soonyoung, everything goes to hell. Soonyoung can get nasty. And Seungcheol doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it right now. Not when you have a hickey from some man he has no idea of.
“It’s bad.”
“Can’t hear.”
Seungcheol swears under his breath, glaring at his friend, “it’s bad, it ruins the whole group. Fraternizing with someone from the office and close friends destroys everything.”
“Office?” Mingyu frowns, “there’s nothing wrong in getting involved with your coworker, until both of you are amicable about it.”
It ticks off a fuse inside him. Seungcheol continues without realizing, “it is never amicable. There are rules and regulations enforced by HR for a reason. Preposterous to even consider it.”
Mingyu scoffs, “sorry to break it to you, man, but feelings aren’t something that you always have control over. It can happen anywhere and with anyone. Fuck with HR, man.”
Vernon nods beside Seungcheol.
“What about the aftermath? You end things, and then what?”
Mingyu shrugs, “if it’s too much you just change jobs. Big deal.”
“Just like how you blame the girl for—”
“Break it off. Put your big dicks back inside. Don’t ruin the evening.” Mina throws a tissue in peace offering.
Seungcheol doesn’t meet your watchful eyes, he knows you are looking at him. And also why.
His breathing is heavy, and he is back to feeling like a fucking furnace. What’s with today and everyone getting on his nerves?
“Going back to the embarrassing bedroom stories,” Mina pipes up again, stealing glances at Jihoon, “don’t you guys have more? I bet Soonyoung sex life is about embarrassment.”
“A very fuck you.” He grins to himself, “my girl and I are very very very happy. That’s all you get.”
“There was this guy,” you speak up and the entire room silences except for the music playing in the background. Seungcheol gulps. You don’t look at him once, continuing, “we were in the middle of it, and he was checking his messages from his ex.”
Seungcheol’s heart drops to his fucking feet. What are you doing?
Soonyoung turns to you with a scary expression. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Seungcheol licks his lips.
“And he left without saying anything.” You shrug. “That’s my embarrassing story.”
“What?” Vernon squeaks.
“Oh, he left me naked and feeling dirty in my own skin.” You explain, looking at Vernon but not at Seungcheol who is sitting right beside. “I don’t think I can give you more details.”
Vernon’s hand is back on your thigh. “I would never do that to you, babygirl.”
Soonyoung growls. “Vernon.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu softly pats your hair, “that’s the worst thing to happen.”
“Who is that bastard?” Sohyeon is standing right next to Soonyoung carrying the same scary expression. “Tell me who it is, I’ll skin him alive.”
“Some guy.” You shake your head, smiling, “nothing of importance.”
Seungcheol can’t turn his eyes away from you, tasting the betrayal, and not understanding why you did what you did. You turn to him once the room begrudgingly moves on, looking at him as if he really is some guy and of no importance.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, family issues, some violence but not towards people, reader is diabetic, kinda unedited
wc: 7.5k
c's note: :) thank you @choco-scoups for reading over it and telling me it is good. lemme know how you felt reading this chapter!
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Seungcheol’s finger circles on the smooth dial of his watch. The meeting room’s lights reflect off of the silver of the dial as he watches the seconds hand make its round. This one cost him a fortune, the navy color attracted his attention creating a desire to get his hands on it. He did. Another quest done.
The door opens. He minimizes the browser tab of his next quest, a new collection released from his favorite brand. Another quest soon to start. He stands up from his chair, wincing at the squeaking sound it does, welcoming in the new joinees.
A man looms at the door, peeking in, “Mr.Choi?” He enters the room, holding the door open for the second one.
Seungcheol remembers to check for their names in the mail. He has been so out of touch since his schedule has been hectic and demanding, and also there’s you who is still not talking with him and the gnawing regret that always follows the thoughts of you.
He finds the mail chain—Jeonghan, Jieun. Jieun?
Jeonghan naturally takes the chair across from him with a woman occupying the one next to him. Jieun. Seungcheol’s world tilts across the axis, everything falling across the domains he carefully separated and segregated. He never allows one part of his life to collide with others. But life is a bitch. And he is here, standing across from his ex.
She smiles at him, professional and personal intertwined, a knowing smile. Seungcheol clenches his jaw taking his seat, he stares at the mail sitting in his inbox.
The mail has been in his inbox for two days. How can he miss it? If the recruitment was a quick process, that means she might have interviewed after he picked her up from the middle of nowhere. Or was it ongoing by then? How come she didn’t mention it once during the hour long ride.
A perfect ploy.
Seungcheol fists his hand under the table. He must not lose control. Without sparing a single glance at her, he opens the presentation on his laptop. “I know you are already aware of me,” he speaks to Jeonghan, a bit unprofessional not considering her too, but she should have thought about it when she purposefully hid it, “Choi Seungcheol, your team lead, but call me Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan grins, “so no sir?”
Seungcheol’s lips twitch, “no sir.” He clicks on the presentation mode on his laptop, the slides present on the TV that is connected. “Brad should be giving this induction, but an important call has kept him from joining us. I’ll make it as quick as I can. If you guys can briefly introduce yourselves.”
Jeonghan gestures for Jieun to go first. She smiles gratefully at him before turning to Seungcheol. “I’m Jieun. I have heard a lot about this team, especially about your leadership, excited to be working with you.”
“I’m not the manager. Just a team lead.” He clarifies, a bit glad that she didn’t bring in their personal history into this. “Whatever you have heard, it’s all Brad.”
Her eyebrows knit together. He moves on to Jeonghan, waiting for him to speak. The friendly grin slips back onto Jeonghan’s lips, and Seungcheol just knows he is gonna be more than colleagues with him. Just how Soonyoung and he did before Soonyoung moved away.
“Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. Jieun was right, I too, heard a lot about you. The teams don’t talk usually, but everyone did when they knew which project I was joining.” Jeonghan relaxes a bit in his seat, Seungcheol narrows his eyes, suspicious that this new guy is already comfortable. “So there’s that.”
Seungcheol gives a small smile, turning to the slideshow, “shall we get started?”
—
Seungcheol knows that other teams talk about him. Or tries to talk to him. The game goes this way, always, they come up to him, mostly the female coworkers, with a doubt or a workflow process or status update, based on the query he analyses the real motivation behind it.
Not all doubts are professional. Not everyone gets to know him personally. He hates to get involved with someone from the workplace. Or with no friends. He always has an invisible line he follows, building the walls higher, and not letting his dating world mix with his work life or friendships.
And then there is you.
He stands on the wide expanse of the balcony looking over the one end of the city. The sea meets its shore, small ripples as it rushes towards the land. A gloomy sky threatens down on the city, always carrying a threat of rain, hiding the sun behind its crying clouds.
He doesn’t enjoy the rain, the roads get murky and his clothes damp from running from the building to his car and vice versa. This city, a cold city, has been his home ever since he was born here, went to the school, and spent his youth, adulthood, but never once he felt he was home.
“That's one beauty.” Jeonghan steps beside him, looking over the overwhelming blue, and the ships that slowly sail across. “This view is one of the main reasons I wanted to work here.”
Seungcheol pockets his cold hands inside his hoodie. “A view is more important than the growth, and compensation a company offers?”
Jeonghan shrugs, “have you seen the ocean?”
Seungcheol turns to the blue sea. “My entire life.”
Jeonghan laughs, “that’s the problem with you locals.” He rests his arms on the railings, closing his eyes when a gentle breeze brushes past them in a silent greeting. “You don’t realise it’s beauty. Because it’s just there and you never looked for it.”
Seungcheol watches the slow ripples. “It’s a routine you’ll get used to. Give it a month and you’ll be rethinking your decision. Compensation will start looking tempting then.”
Jeonghan laughs, “funny guy.” He straightens up, “let’s put a pin on that. After thirty days let’s discuss it again.”
Seungcheol eyes the male, the underlying challenge and his determined smile. The strong belief that his feelings will not change with time is something that makes Seungcheol laugh. But he doesn’t. He gives a single nod, and looks back at the sea.
The same green ship he looked ever since he can start forming memories sails in its pursuit to the other end of the land.
Things tend to get boring. And Seungcheol knows it firsthand.
—
The office hours aren’t over yet. Two more fucking hours to be spent in this godawful pretentious office before he can go back to his lonely abode. The work is sitting right across him, on the screen, waiting for him to complete it. Seungcheol’s on his phone, yet again.
Social media is a weird place. He didn’t always associate himself with the happenings of almost strangers—his friends aka followers—life, or specifically go look for them. It sort of happened. Just how Soonyoung came into his life, eventually you did and he somehow found himself erasing the number one rule he set on himself, well, maybe second. The first being not interacting with his family for more than three hours. Something about mental health and not falling into a pit hole called depression or melancholy.
Second being not fucking his friend. Or having any sort of physical relationships with someone close.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, his jaw flexing as the memories of the night that started it all flashes before him. He sits up in his chair, unbuttoning the collar and watches the blank computer screen in front of him. He drops the phone on the desk, clicking his mouse and invests himself in the work. He will do anything to escape from the vice grip that night holds on him.
Two minutes in, and he is already reaching for his phone, unlocking it. There it is, your profile, ready for his hundredth exploration since that impromptu meeting on Saturday, and his self-inflicted break from you. In the middle of the night, during a monotone meeting, right after shutting his alarm in the morning, and during his break hour, he swiftly checks on the posts or stories you have posted, if there’s none, he scrolls down to see your older posts.
Some might call him a stalker. But no one knows him, so he is still plain Seungcheol for everyone.
You have added a new story. Seungcheol clicks on it, a poem.
I waited for so long for love
and suddenly, here it is
standing in the garden, hands full
of heirlooms hot from the sun.
Soon we’ll make a supper of them.
Salted slabs between slices of bread.
Your bread silvers. My hips ripen.
The mail piles up.
Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us.
Our mouths are full of tomatoes.
We are so busy
being small and hungry and alive.
Tomatoes
Joy Sullivan
Seungcheol sets the phone on the white desk, looming over it rereading the lines again. What does this actually mean? He remembers the piles of books he found everywhere in your home, a book always lying around on the desk, corners of the couch, in the kitchen, and your bedroom is a temple of books. And he barely passed his lit course in school.
The story moves to some person’s highlight of their lives. Seungcheol goes back to your story, now a new comment added to it.
soo you want me to bring you some tomatoes?
Seungcheol sits back in his chair, humming in thought. Are you out of groceries just like Soonyoung suggested? The story has already moved on to several peoples’. Seungcheol grunts, going back to your profile and opening your story again. Now only your story will be played or the app takes back to your profile once the thirty second display is done. He would rather sit and stare at Clementine on your profile picture than some random food pictures or men diving or women laughing over drinks.
Vernon adds another comment.
here you dropped this
It’s an emoji of brain. And then the group is sending tomato emoji.
why did i even post this
And the story is deleted.
You are not out of your groceries then? He refreshes your page, just in case you posted anything new. None. So he scrolls through your page, pausing over Clementine pictures and opening a few poetry posts. Not one picture of you.
He opens Soonyoung’s profile, scrolling down, pausing his thumb right where the carousel of the pictures are. He is quick in swiping past the first three photos, and there you are, captured between your unrestricted laugh.
Seungcheol’s shoulders slouches down, he zooms in on your smile, and the crinkle at the end of your eyes he knows that will be there, and just, the whole existence of you, he stares at it for a long moment.
“What are you smiling at?”
He is quick to lock his phone before Jieun can peek into it. He squares his shoulders, his defences taking their positions, and his irritation meter spiking to the red.
“What do you want?”
Jieun stares at his phone, and then at him, “with some less venom in your words will be a good starting point of what I need from you.”
Before his irritation meter can break, he excuses himself and leaves to the coffee room. Jieun follows him, her flowery scent filling the room. He rubs his itchy nose with the back of his hand, checking the time on the wall clock. Only thirty minutes have passed.
“Seungcheol, I know you are angry,” she shoves herself between the coffee machine and him, he sneezes into his elbow, taking a few steps back, “but please, listen to me, I didn’t know they’ll put me into your team.”
“They did,” he grits his teeth, reaching out for tissues, “in the end, didn’t they?”
“It’s not my fault.” She points out. “I have the freedom to work wherever I want.”
Seungcheol is glad this section of the office is empty. “Lower your voice. Please.” He maintains a respectful space between them. “You have the freedom, of course, you do. Didn’t you think of informing me once? The entire two hours drive you kept on updating about your life, even updated about the receptionist in your damn apartment but not once you are interviewing here or anything.”
Jieun looks lost for words. It all comes back to him, the time he was involved with her, the moments he held onto just because he wanted to try and be a better person, a relationship kind of guy.
“You know how I feel getting involved with someone at work. Crossing boundaries.” The words bite back his own skin, the nights he spent in your bed, the laughs, the mistakes, haunts him and Seungcheol feels restless. His rash decisions will eat him one day. He knows this. “We are not in a relationship anyway,” he trashes the crumpled tissue, seemingly done with everything, “and I want to keep our history in a closed book. I want us to be professional in and out of the office. So please stop searching for me if it’s not for work.”
Seungcheol exits the room without a second thought or a glance.
—
The week doesn’t get any better. It only pummels him down to the ground. The mansion, his parents’ house, awaits in front of him. The same smell of grass, the housekeepers moving about their day breaking their backs for his mom and the need to satisfy her. He knows the feeling. He lived in this house for twenty years. And he could only breathe normally outside those damn huge gates.
He exits his car, nodding his head to the same man, Mr. Jung, who has been in charge of the house ever since his childhood. The elder man only returns a gentle smile that is always present on his face whenever he sees him. Seungcheol ascend the small steps, reaching the door, his reflection staring back at him on the glass mirror. He averts his eyes from his face, opening the door and bracing himself as if he is entering a war.
Today marks thirty-third wedding anniversary of his parents. A celebration. The house is big, spacious with minimal furniture and decor pieces his mom carefully collected and designed. Beige and brown. A color combination he came to hate from seeing it everywhere for twenty years.
The click of his shoes resounds the high ceilings, he sets the present on the coffee table before he goes to the dining hall. He checks the time on his watch, six in the evening, and he has two hours and fifty minutes more. After that he has to escape from here. In the three hours, he has to keep a good grip over his anger. It’s not worth the cold treatment that encompasses him the weeks after. He is tired from work and life as it is. He doesn’t need to add more to it.
The dining hall is sparkling under the chandelier hanging over the table. Korean cuisine spread over the long table, the dark orange soups, the sizzling meat, and the steam from the hot food has his stomach grumbling. He remembers that he didn’t eat a single meal the entire day, too cooped up in his work.
He shrugs off his jacket, a butler steps in accepting it from him, and disappears into one of the many rooms. Seungcheol stands in the middle of the huge hall where he spent hours sitting alone during his school. The corner chair at the end of the table he always sat stared back at him. The books he spread over waiting for his parents or brother to come home, talk or play with him. The adult Seungcheol scoffs at his own innocence. Talk or play? They barely know which year he is in.
Seungcheol moves to the kitchen, nodding to the greetings from the cooks and maids, he calmly cleans his hands, accepts a hand towel from a maid and exits back to the dining table. He drags the chair at the corner end, making himself comfortable. He had twenty years of experience in experimenting with the right angle to sit so he can get cozy in this huge open house.
“Mr. and Mrs. Choi are stuck in traffic, they’ll be here soon, young master.” Mr.Jung announces. “Shall I serve some snacks in the meantime?”
Seungcheol gives a tight smile, “I’m not a child, Mr. Jung. It’s fine, I’ll wait for them.”
A sad upturn of smile on Mr. Jung’s face has Seungcheol to turn his face away to the phone in his hands. No matter how many years pass, no matter how old he gets, this house never fails in making him feel what ten years old Seungcheol felt. As if he will always be the ten year old boy here, waiting, longing, push-over.
“Sure, sir.” Mr. Jung bows, his old bones cracking, “Your brother is already here. He will join you in ten minutes.”
Mr. Jung leaves Seungcheol to his own devices before Seungcheol can ask him about his health or family. Regret sits on the tip of his tongue watching the slouched back of the old man who made sure to never leave him alone. He hates this house, always for making him feel things he runs away from.
He unlocks his phone, opens the social media, and quick to search for your profile. No new stories or posts. Not even a capture of Clementine on her walk. He scrolls down, opening a compilation of poems. Something about oranges or clementines or tangerines.
Why are you always posting about fruits and vegetables? You always push away them while eating. He doesn’t understand the meaning behind the simple words that sit in those poems, always going over his head and it’s not like he has someone to teach the essence of the words and the feelings they carry to the heart.
A chair scrapes across the shiny white marble floor. Seungcheol grips his phone, not looking up at the person who joined him. His brother too doesn’t acknowledge Seungcheol’s presence. Nothing ever changes in this house.
He exits your profile unable to invest too much of his brain to decipher the poems he read time and time. Sohyeon has a story up, and Mina too. His stomach gives a familiar lurch. They met. And Seungcheol didn’t know. Again.
It’s a blurry image of cards, snacks. Mina posted a short video, the laughter and music and loud voices blasts out of his phone to this silent house, he exits the story in a heartbeat. He locks the phone, clasps his hands and stares at the ceiling, the lights flicker beautifully. A hollow feeling blankets him.
Footsteps echo. Seungcheol snaps out, his eyes struggling to adjust after watching the bright lights for god knows how long. His parents are already pulling their chairs and sitting. His father at the head of the table, and his mom leaves the two empty chairs and sits in the middle.
“The traffic was long.” His father grunts, already irritated and angry. “Why didn’t you start? Why do you think the food is already served?”
The maids rush to serve food. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, letting them do their work. Once the food is served, his family begins eating in silence except for the sounds from chopsticks and the bowls. He devours the food, realising he is starving.
“Stop inhaling your food.” His mother scolds, “where are your manners? That’s why I don’t want you kids to live on your own. Manners picked up from who knows what places. Your father doesn’t understand the concept as he himself lacks a few.”
Seungcheol shuts his eyes. It’s starting. He slows down chewing, sitting straighter and holding the cutlery in a proper way.
“What do you mean?” His father barks out, dropping the spoon into his bowl of soup, the orange liquid splattering all over the place. “Watch your mouth.”
Seungcheol scoops more rice into his empty bowl.
“Boys learn from their father.” His mother doesn’t back down, snapping her finger at a maid to clean the mess. “Isn’t that why he is living with that,” she shuts her mouth in disgust to even say her name, “vile woman?”
Seungcheol’s brother slams his chopsticks down, his hand accidentally hitting the bowl of rice, sending it toppling on the floor. “Respect. Speak of her with respect.”
His mother crosses her arms, sending a pointed look at her husband. Like father, like son.
Seungcheol stares at the empty bowl of rice, when did he even eat it? A maid helps him in getting more rice, while the other moves silently cleaning the mess. He wonders who will clean the mess of this family.
His father thunders, “what are you insinuating?”
“If only you didn’t fuck that young secretary of yours, your children wouldn’t have learned to seek the same!”
And just like that Seungcheol transports back to that evening. He came home early ditching his classes. The maids were tense and in a hurry to get him into his room. Mr. Jung, determined to lead him to his bed under the ruse of his new gaming CD has arrived.
He heard a sound he never heard in his lifetime. His father is laughing and coddling a young woman. A happiness he never saw written all over his father’s face. He looked young next to her, a woman who is not his mother.
“More rice, young master.” The maid sets the bowl, scurrying back to the kitchen.
Seungcheol looks over at his father who is stricken by the words. Their eyes met for a brief second, his father saw him that evening, and he remembers the same now.
His father turns away, spitting the words, “you never change.”
He leaves the table. The silence is back again. Seungcheol looks at his half empty plate and bowl. Suddenly feeling so full that he will vomit at the idea or sight of food. He turns to Mr. Jung standing in a corner who nods in return.
Maids clear his plates. He sits there, waiting for his family to be done. His brother eats his food, stuffing his face. His mother is delicate about it, taking her time to eat, never leaving her manners even if there’s an empty chair at the head of the table. Her wedding ring sparkles under the chandelier lights.
Seungcheol is glad that his finger is empty.
“Break up with her.” His mother addresses his elder son. “She is no good news.”
The reply is throwing the plate to the ground and also a loud slam of the chair falling to the floor as he leaves. With no second thoughts or second glance.
His mother continues to eat, grabbing a piece of kimchi and putting it on top of her flavoured rice. She looks small, her hand shaking as she brings the spoon to her mouth. The unshed tears also sparkle like the diamond on her finger.
Seungcheol swallows. He sits there until she completes her dinner.
—
The TV screen illuminates the dark apartment. The sport commentary fills the silence. Seungcheol follows the players, the game between two teams whom he isn’t rooting for. It’s Thursday, and he has absolutely nothing to do.
He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and lies down on the couch, then flips to his side and then angles his neck, he sits up, giving up. Can he get any more listless?
The commentators whoops as one of the player scores. Seungcheol flips the channel to some old movies, two minutes into the movie he exits and opens a streaming service. He plays a random movie knowing well enough that he isn’t gonna stick to it either.
The routine starts again. He sits cross-legged, leans back and then lies down and before he can angle his neck properly his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.
He answers in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Clementine is asking for you.” Soonyoung screams on the other end. “Uh, and also bring beer. She needs to have a drink. Bye.”
Someone scoffs on his side and the line cuts. Seungcheol stares at his phone, blinking once, twice, and he is reaching for his keys, turning off the TV.
—
Three weeks. It has been three fucking long weeks since he last saw you—in person, not on someone else’s stories. His self inflicted break from you has not helped in any sense, rather his screen time has grown and he learned new words like Hamartia.
Seungcheol sets the case of beers on the table alongside the food. The apartment is crowded, rowdier and hosting new people. He leans against the table, unzipping his hoodie watching the two new men sitting on the couch. Clementine stuck to one of them, the tallest one.
Three weeks and she has forgotten about him. He balls the hoodie, moving across the living room and opens the closet, shoving it in. If a dog, dubbed as the loyal creature on this planet, can move on from him, he can’t dare to think about what you are feeling.
He moves across the room, occupying one of the idle chairs, looking around the apartment. It is still the same, the books are everywhere, throw blankets overflowing and food scent wafting through. If he is to slide his hand underneath this chair he bets his entire worth that he will find a book.
“Soonyoung, get the fuck out!” Your shrill scream from the kitchen breaks the serenity in the room, everyone pausing to look at the kitchen. “Hands off. Did you even wash? I’ll kill you, let’s end this today.”
Just like that everyone moves on. Nothing has changed. Seungcheol smiles to himself at you screaming at Soonyoung, the agitation only he can bring out of you.
“Don’t we have to help her?” The giant asks Vernon. “I think she needs help. Clementine baby, let me go pacify your mom before she pulls out her friend’s head, okay baby?” He carefully sets her head on the couch, giving a few rubs before running towards the kitchen.
Seungcheol stares at his clasped hands. What?
Sohyeon and Mina giggles among themselves, checking over the kitchen, apparently the most happening spot tonight, and giggles some more.
Seungcheol frowns, the long strands of his hair poking into his eyes, he brushes them away, only to fall back on his eyes. He leans back, glaring at the kitchen that now houses laughter, laughter from you.
“I never heard her that happy.” Mina sighs, dreamily, “she found her happiness. Finally.”
What?
The glasses guy, somehow familiar yet Seungcheol can’t pin a name to his face, is watching him. The frown deepens on Seungcheol’s face, not understanding what is going on here. Why are everyone acting out of their character?
Soonyoung saunters into the living room, claiming the giant’s seat. He pokes the glasses guy, a sense of familiarity already evident in their bond.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? That junior she mentioned.” Sohyeon sets her mug on the coffee table, “something about him not being an eater.”
Dread descents upon Seungcheol’s shoulders. He remembers the girls talking about a guy from your office. The one who has a crush on you. Mingyu.
Seungcheol’s body is warm, hot even. The room presses on him, a white flare of light pounding his head. He reaches for the stray beer bottle, stops remembering there are new faces and he isn’t buddy enough with them to drink from their bottles.
He surveys the area for a familiar pink imprint. None. He raises from the couch, sauntering towards the beer case, pulling out one. The music is low, some rap song he never listened to or heard playing in this household. This apartment only entertains slow steady songs, or bright songs like hey, jude. It’s been so long since he heard that song play, he should be happy that he didn’t get to hear it because if you are choosing that one it only means you are in deep shit.
Seungcheol doesn’t want that for you.
He rests his hip against the table, sipping on the semi cold drink. The nutty flavor of it doesn’t satiate his palate but this drink is his true friend for the night. Since everyone seems to forget his presence with the arrival of new shiny things.
“Jihoon, is he really dating that junior?” Mina prods the glasses guy.
Jihoon who can’t stop staring at him, finally with one slow drag of his eyes across Seungcheol’s stance, addresses the question. “Not dating. More like fucking I think.”
Sohyeon grimaces. “Crass.”
“No wonder Soonyoung likes you.” Mina gives a disgusting look at him. “What do you mean fucking? Are there no feelings involved? I don’t think a person like him is good for our sweet girl.”
“What makes you think our sweet girl isn’t involved in some frivolous activities herself?” Jihoon quirk his eyebrow.
Seungcheol swears he looked at him, as if accusing to be the partner in the sinful activity. Who the fuck is this guy? He vaguely remembers meeting him in some of the parties. Does he know anything that has been happening in the confines of these walls? Did you talk to him?
“She would never.” Sohyeon is so quick in her defence as if repulsed by the mere suggestion that Seungcheol turns away from the group. “She is too precious to do some vile actions.”
Vernon chimes in, “calm down, darlin’, she ain’t doing a sin even if she gets involved in some action.”
“Agree.” Jihoon adds.
“That’s not the point here.” Mina breaks in, “Mingyu makes her smile and laugh, she relaxes in his presence. Like they are someone that is meant to be together.”
“You got all this from one meeting?”
The disbelief and incredible look from Vernon has Mina’s cheeks pink. Jihoon pats her hand in consolation. Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the gesture.
“I mean look at them,” Mina justifies, “she didn’t even, or like, have been human for the last three weeks. Her mother visited, for god’s sake, you know how it throws her off. Soonyoung couldn’t handle the aftermath, and now she is laughing. Just because of Mingyu.”
The bottle slips a little from Seungcheol’s hand, he catches it in time and swears under his breath. He sets the bottle on the table, tapping his fingers. Fuck. Your mom visited? And he wasn’t there. What a damn prick he is.
“Shh, shh, they are coming,” Sohyeon warns the group, “so what do you think about this song?”
Seungcheol holds his breath, shadows of three people emerging from the kitchen. He chews on his lip, biting it in contemplation, it’s been three weeks, three long weeks, and you are finally in the same vicinity as him. He tastes blood on his tongue, he taps his finger on the flat surface, tilting his head watching you over his shoulder.
His breath catches in his throat. You look worse. He turns towards the group, taking you in completely. Sunken eyes. The adorable swell of your cheeks are no more. And you look weak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seungcheol gets restless, rubbing his chin, calculating how he can get you alone. Will you let him take you away? After what has gone down between you two. You called it off that night. You did. Seungcheol heard it, but he won’t let it hinder him. It is not over until he is done. And he is not done.
You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Clementine jumps off the couch, lazily, swirling around your legs. You rub behind her ears in greeting, your eyes moving across the room, checking the shoes at the entrance, a jerk in your body, frantically looking across the couch and makeshift couch, and you straighten up at the hand on your waist. Mingyu pats Clementine along with you.
Seungcheol taps his foot on the wooden floor, cracking his neck. Bloody red infiltrates his vision for a brief moment. You step away from him with a friendly smile letting him have Clementine all to himself. And you converse with Mina something about popcorn or the caramel, you are excusing yourself, moving towards where he is.
Your eyes land on him, a singular sweep from his crossed legs at ankles, the laidback form—his hips resting on the table, the gentle hold on the bottle he didn’t know when he picked up, the same mockery disbelief twitch of your lips seeing his watch, and then slow drag from his chest to his lips to his eyes. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
You stand next to him, arranging and rearranging the tissues, plates without a single greeting or acknowledgement. Yet Seungcheol, ever the pessimist and disbeliever in coincidences and fate, feels that you missed him. He can’t bring out proofs and receipts, relying on just the connection that he has with you. He just knows it.
Some things have changed, for good, he hopes.
He helps you in scooping food onto your plate. “How are your levels?”
You pause getting more salad, looking at him, eyes widened at the question. Seungcheol resists the urge to lean in closer to you, the subtle scent of soft cocoa of your body lotion luring him into the dangerous territories. He settles for squeezing ranch onto your plate.
You scoff, slapping his hand away. “They are good. And none of your concern.”
Some things didn’t change. You are still angry with him. Rightfully, so.
The list of questions on the tip of his tongue dies down. It’s been so long and you look so vulnerable, and he has so many questions. Starting with your mom and why you didn’t tell him. You always seek him out after the visits. He was always there helping you not to tip over to the darkside.
Done with plating food, you turn away, slowly, your arm brushing against his, your eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second at the contact. Seungcheol grips the ranch bottle, he knows that expression. He has seen that countless times. You do miss him.
“Hey,” Mingyu is behind you, holding the plate for you, “do you need anything else?”
The ranch squeezes out splattering across the food spread, his black tee and on Seungcheol’s face. He drops the bottle, reaching for tissues with his good hand, and dabs his shirt. The white mark just worsens.
“Fuck.” He swears, he just splurged on this shirt recently. Can at least one day go peacefully?
Soonyoung reaches out to a fry, “oh,” he dabs it in the ranch on Seungcheol’s hand, and bites onto it. “Salty.”
Will he go to jail when he beats the shit out of his close friend? Does bearing him for five years is enough reason to not go to jail after breaking his bones?
Soonyoung hums his way back to annoy Clementine by grabbing her tail. Seungcheol notices you sitting next to Mingyu with him swiping food from your plate.
The glasses guy, Jihoon, tilts his head at Seungcheol, frowning. Seungcheol throws the bottle on the table, disappearing into your room and into the bathroom.
He splashes the water onto his face, the coldness of it helps in regulating the heat radiating out of him. Why is he burning up? It’s not even summer yet. He plucks out a nearly folded towel and dabs his face.
Questions sprout inside his head. He exits the bathroom, stands in your room, the simmering heat inside him cools down. He strides towards the bed and sits on it.
Warmth spreads across him as if the room realises that he is here, welcoming him back into the secret they carry. He plucks out the book fallen onto the ground. There are pages and pages of words he can’t sit and read, two minutes in he is closing the book.
He runs his finger down the spine of the book, wondering, how much longer he has permission to be in this room, in this world they created. The atmosphere in the living room suggests that he doesn’t have much, maybe already lost it, and he is holding onto the ends of the thread.
He shouldn’t have picked up his phone that night. He shouldn’t have rushed out in worry. He should have let Jieun be stranded in a dark place, she is an adult, she could have navigated it. Fuck, he can’t live with himself knowing he left a girl in need of help. At that point of time, the safety of a woman took precedence over him having a good time.
He should have learnt to articulate the scene better, made you comfortable before leaving, reassuring and promising. Seungcheol isn’t that man, at least not at that time, learning as he grows.
He sees a shadow circling outside the door. His time is up here. He sets the book back on the nightstand. He looks around the room one last time before opening the door. Clementine jumps on him, remembering.
Some things have changed and at the same time didn’t.
Seungcheol kneels down, letting her rub herself against him. He pets her to her heart’s content, smiling at her tail wagging at high speed.
“I’m telling you,” Sohyeon is standing in the middle of the room, a bottle in her hand, “eating a girl out is more important than the act of fucking.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth knowing where this is going. He saunters to the only space available next to Vernon, Clementine sits on his feet.
Mingyu looks over at her once and then at Seungcheol. Sohyeon is ranting about female pleasure and how important it is. Mingyu is forced to address the issue, he leans back, an arm behind you, as he agrees with Sohyeon.
You calmly eat your food. Seungcheol plays with Clementine’s ears.
“I agree.” Mingyu says, “it’s essential in order to get more out of the session. Physical session.”
“One of my ex,” Mina hiccups, taking the center stage, “was so awful,” she grimaces, “so awful that he couldn’t find which is which for ten minutes.”
The group oohs in consolation.
“That’s awful.” Vernon nods, “I had a girl once vomit when she was, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed, “giving me some.”
A chorus of nooo echoes.
Mingyu snaps his fingers, jerking forward with new found enthusiasm, “that’s what I am saying. I had a horrible time once, during my college, a girl,” he shudders, “was so yuck it traumatized me to go down. For like my entire life.”
Mixed reactions go off, Clementine too, growling in a low tone. You finally look at Mingyu, curiosity written all over your face. Seungcheol drops his head down, patting Clementine.
He looks back up, and you are watching Clementine, at her closed eyes in ecstasy as Seungcheol scratches her favorite spot, your eyes trails up to his watch, following his veins, and snaps to Sohyeon as she takes back the attention.
“That’s horrible.” Sohyeon points her finger at him. “You could have guided her. The poor girl must be traumatized. You must have done something wrong!”
“I did not.” Mingyu defends with his entire chest. “I have helped her through and through.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, swirling Clementine’s soft ears between his fingers. Something doesn’t add up.
You raise your eyebrow at the lone fry on your plate, scoffing under your breath. Mingyu rearranges himself, sitting straighter and his hand no longer touching you.
Vernon taps your thigh, opening his mouth. You stab your fork onto the last fry and feed him.
“Didn’t you guys ever date? Like inside of the group?” Mingyu asks, staring at Vernon and his hand on your thigh.
Soonyoung rises from the trenches, high and red, “no. This is a sacred group, no love, no lust. I’ll kill anyone who breaks the sanctity.”
You stare at Soonyoung crooning about the essence of friendship and how feelings will ruin everything. His eyes drag up from the v shaped tee you are wearing, too loose that one sleeve of it is in verge of sliding down your shoulder. Seungcheol can’t help but look at the length of your neck, remembering the times he buried himself in the curve. He frowns at the fading mark of a hickey. Right in the place he always leaves one. But it has been three weeks, and his eyes move to the man sitting beside you.
He can’t, no, he doesn’t want to imagine a guy putting his lips on your skin. Leaving a hickey is out of the topic. All he can see is red.
You are unfazed about the passionate speech Soonyoung is giving. Are you really done with him? Did you move on from him? No, if you find someone you always let him know. You didn’t send a single text. But why would you when you ended it already?
Clementine looks up at him. He blinks, coming back to the room and feeling all eyes on him.
“What?”
“Tell me, my friend,” Soonyoung stumbles towards him, holding out the mouth of the beer bottle towards him as a mic, “confess here, the stage is yours.”
Seungcheol gulps, “confess what?”
“Your feelings about fraternizing in close circles.”
Seungcheol looks around, few moved on from Soonyoung’s atrocities, he catches your eye, waiting and how can he answer with you here, when you two did exactly what Soonyoung vehemently said no, what Seungcheol is against too. Jihoon leans in, catching him looking at you. What is with this guy and his intrusive stares as if he knows something? Fuck. If he ever just casually says his suspicions about him and you to Soonyoung, everything goes to hell. Soonyoung can get nasty. And Seungcheol doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it right now. Not when you have a hickey from some man he has no idea of.
“It’s bad.”
“Can’t hear.”
Seungcheol swears under his breath, glaring at his friend, “it’s bad, it ruins the whole group. Fraternizing with someone from the office and close friends destroys everything.”
“Office?” Mingyu frowns, “there’s nothing wrong in getting involved with your coworker, until both of you are amicable about it.”
It ticks off a fuse inside him. Seungcheol continues without realizing, “it is never amicable. There are rules and regulations enforced by HR for a reason. Preposterous to even consider it.”
Mingyu scoffs, “sorry to break it to you, man, but feelings aren’t something that you always have control over. It can happen anywhere and with anyone. Fuck with HR, man.”
Vernon nods beside Seungcheol.
“What about the aftermath? You end things, and then what?”
Mingyu shrugs, “if it’s too much you just change jobs. Big deal.”
“Just like how you blame the girl for—”
“Break it off. Put your big dicks back inside. Don’t ruin the evening.” Mina throws a tissue in peace offering.
Seungcheol doesn’t meet your watchful eyes, he knows you are looking at him. And also why.
His breathing is heavy, and he is back to feeling like a fucking furnace. What’s with today and everyone getting on his nerves?
“Going back to the embarrassing bedroom stories,” Mina pipes up again, stealing glances at Jihoon, “don’t you guys have more? I bet Soonyoung sex life is about embarrassment.”
“A very fuck you.” He grins to himself, “my girl and I are very very very happy. That’s all you get.”
“There was this guy,” you speak up and the entire room silences except for the music playing in the background. Seungcheol gulps. You don’t look at him once, continuing, “we were in the middle of it, and he was checking his messages from his ex.”
Seungcheol’s heart drops to his fucking feet. What are you doing?
Soonyoung turns to you with a scary expression. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Seungcheol licks his lips.
“And he left without saying anything.” You shrug. “That’s my embarrassing story.”
“What?” Vernon squeaks.
“Oh, he left me naked and feeling dirty in my own skin.” You explain, looking at Vernon but not at Seungcheol who is sitting right beside. “I don’t think I can give you more details.”
Vernon’s hand is back on your thigh. “I would never do that to you, babygirl.”
Soonyoung growls. “Vernon.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu softly pats your hair, “that’s the worst thing to happen.”
“Who is that bastard?” Sohyeon is standing right next to Soonyoung carrying the same scary expression. “Tell me who it is, I’ll skin him alive.”
“Some guy.” You shake your head, smiling, “nothing of importance.”
Seungcheol can’t turn his eyes away from you, tasting the betrayal, and not understanding why you did what you did. You turn to him once the room begrudgingly moves on, looking at him as if he really is some guy and of no importance.
The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, family issues, some violence but not towards people, reader is diabetic, kinda unedited
wc: 7.5k
c's note: :) thank you @choco-scoups for reading over it and telling me it is good. lemme know how you felt reading this chapter!
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Seungcheol’s finger circles on the smooth dial of his watch. The meeting room’s lights reflect off of the silver of the dial as he watches the seconds hand make its round. This one cost him a fortune, the navy color attracted his attention creating a desire to get his hands on it. He did. Another quest done.
The door opens. He minimizes the browser tab of his next quest, a new collection released from his favorite brand. Another quest soon to start. He stands up from his chair, wincing at the squeaking sound it does, welcoming in the new joinees.
A man looms at the door, peeking in, “Mr.Choi?” He enters the room, holding the door open for the second one.
Seungcheol remembers to check for their names in the mail. He has been so out of touch since his schedule has been hectic and demanding, and also there’s you who is still not talking with him and the gnawing regret that always follows the thoughts of you.
He finds the mail chain—Jeonghan, Jieun. Jieun?
Jeonghan naturally takes the chair across from him with a woman occupying the one next to him. Jieun. Seungcheol’s world tilts across the axis, everything falling across the domains he carefully separated and segregated. He never allows one part of his life to collide with others. But life is a bitch. And he is here, standing across from his ex.
She smiles at him, professional and personal intertwined, a knowing smile. Seungcheol clenches his jaw taking his seat, he stares at the mail sitting in his inbox.
The mail has been in his inbox for two days. How can he miss it? If the recruitment was a quick process, that means she might have interviewed after he picked her up from the middle of nowhere. Or was it ongoing by then? How come she didn’t mention it once during the hour long ride.
A perfect ploy.
Seungcheol fists his hand under the table. He must not lose control. Without sparing a single glance at her, he opens the presentation on his laptop. “I know you are already aware of me,” he speaks to Jeonghan, a bit unprofessional not considering her too, but she should have thought about it when she purposefully hid it, “Choi Seungcheol, your team lead, but call me Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan grins, “so no sir?”
Seungcheol’s lips twitch, “no sir.” He clicks on the presentation mode on his laptop, the slides present on the TV that is connected. “Brad should be giving this induction, but an important call has kept him from joining us. I’ll make it as quick as I can. If you guys can briefly introduce yourselves.”
Jeonghan gestures for Jieun to go first. She smiles gratefully at him before turning to Seungcheol. “I’m Jieun. I have heard a lot about this team, especially about your leadership, excited to be working with you.”
“I’m not the manager. Just a team lead.” He clarifies, a bit glad that she didn’t bring in their personal history into this. “Whatever you have heard, it’s all Brad.”
Her eyebrows knit together. He moves on to Jeonghan, waiting for him to speak. The friendly grin slips back onto Jeonghan’s lips, and Seungcheol just knows he is gonna be more than colleagues with him. Just how Soonyoung and he did before Soonyoung moved away.
“Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. Jieun was right, I too, heard a lot about you. The teams don’t talk usually, but everyone did when they knew which project I was joining.” Jeonghan relaxes a bit in his seat, Seungcheol narrows his eyes, suspicious that this new guy is already comfortable. “So there’s that.”
Seungcheol gives a small smile, turning to the slideshow, “shall we get started?”
—
Seungcheol knows that other teams talk about him. Or tries to talk to him. The game goes this way, always, they come up to him, mostly the female coworkers, with a doubt or a workflow process or status update, based on the query he analyses the real motivation behind it.
Not all doubts are professional. Not everyone gets to know him personally. He hates to get involved with someone from the workplace. Or with no friends. He always has an invisible line he follows, building the walls higher, and not letting his dating world mix with his work life or friendships.
And then there is you.
He stands on the wide expanse of the balcony looking over the one end of the city. The sea meets its shore, small ripples as it rushes towards the land. A gloomy sky threatens down on the city, always carrying a threat of rain, hiding the sun behind its crying clouds.
He doesn’t enjoy the rain, the roads get murky and his clothes damp from running from the building to his car and vice versa. This city, a cold city, has been his home ever since he was born here, went to the school, and spent his youth, adulthood, but never once he felt he was home.
“That's one beauty.” Jeonghan steps beside him, looking over the overwhelming blue, and the ships that slowly sail across. “This view is one of the main reasons I wanted to work here.”
Seungcheol pockets his cold hands inside his hoodie. “A view is more important than the growth, and compensation a company offers?”
Jeonghan shrugs, “have you seen the ocean?”
Seungcheol turns to the blue sea. “My entire life.”
Jeonghan laughs, “that’s the problem with you locals.” He rests his arms on the railings, closing his eyes when a gentle breeze brushes past them in a silent greeting. “You don’t realise it’s beauty. Because it’s just there and you never looked for it.”
Seungcheol watches the slow ripples. “It’s a routine you’ll get used to. Give it a month and you’ll be rethinking your decision. Compensation will start looking tempting then.”
Jeonghan laughs, “funny guy.” He straightens up, “let’s put a pin on that. After thirty days let’s discuss it again.”
Seungcheol eyes the male, the underlying challenge and his determined smile. The strong belief that his feelings will not change with time is something that makes Seungcheol laugh. But he doesn’t. He gives a single nod, and looks back at the sea.
The same green ship he looked ever since he can start forming memories sails in its pursuit to the other end of the land.
Things tend to get boring. And Seungcheol knows it firsthand.
—
The office hours aren’t over yet. Two more fucking hours to be spent in this godawful pretentious office before he can go back to his lonely abode. The work is sitting right across him, on the screen, waiting for him to complete it. Seungcheol’s on his phone, yet again.
Social media is a weird place. He didn’t always associate himself with the happenings of almost strangers—his friends aka followers—life, or specifically go look for them. It sort of happened. Just how Soonyoung came into his life, eventually you did and he somehow found himself erasing the number one rule he set on himself, well, maybe second. The first being not interacting with his family for more than three hours. Something about mental health and not falling into a pit hole called depression or melancholy.
Second being not fucking his friend. Or having any sort of physical relationships with someone close.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, his jaw flexing as the memories of the night that started it all flashes before him. He sits up in his chair, unbuttoning the collar and watches the blank computer screen in front of him. He drops the phone on the desk, clicking his mouse and invests himself in the work. He will do anything to escape from the vice grip that night holds on him.
Two minutes in, and he is already reaching for his phone, unlocking it. There it is, your profile, ready for his hundredth exploration since that impromptu meeting on Saturday, and his self-inflicted break from you. In the middle of the night, during a monotone meeting, right after shutting his alarm in the morning, and during his break hour, he swiftly checks on the posts or stories you have posted, if there’s none, he scrolls down to see your older posts.
Some might call him a stalker. But no one knows him, so he is still plain Seungcheol for everyone.
You have added a new story. Seungcheol clicks on it, a poem.
I waited for so long for love
and suddenly, here it is
standing in the garden, hands full
of heirlooms hot from the sun.
Soon we’ll make a supper of them.
Salted slabs between slices of bread.
Your bread silvers. My hips ripen.
The mail piles up.
Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us.
Our mouths are full of tomatoes.
We are so busy
being small and hungry and alive.
Tomatoes
Joy Sullivan
Seungcheol sets the phone on the white desk, looming over it rereading the lines again. What does this actually mean? He remembers the piles of books he found everywhere in your home, a book always lying around on the desk, corners of the couch, in the kitchen, and your bedroom is a temple of books. And he barely passed his lit course in school.
The story moves to some person’s highlight of their lives. Seungcheol goes back to your story, now a new comment added to it.
soo you want me to bring you some tomatoes?
Seungcheol sits back in his chair, humming in thought. Are you out of groceries just like Soonyoung suggested? The story has already moved on to several peoples’. Seungcheol grunts, going back to your profile and opening your story again. Now only your story will be played or the app takes back to your profile once the thirty second display is done. He would rather sit and stare at Clementine on your profile picture than some random food pictures or men diving or women laughing over drinks.
Vernon adds another comment.
here you dropped this
It’s an emoji of brain. And then the group is sending tomato emoji.
why did i even post this
And the story is deleted.
You are not out of your groceries then? He refreshes your page, just in case you posted anything new. None. So he scrolls through your page, pausing over Clementine pictures and opening a few poetry posts. Not one picture of you.
He opens Soonyoung’s profile, scrolling down, pausing his thumb right where the carousel of the pictures are. He is quick in swiping past the first three photos, and there you are, captured between your unrestricted laugh.
Seungcheol’s shoulders slouches down, he zooms in on your smile, and the crinkle at the end of your eyes he knows that will be there, and just, the whole existence of you, he stares at it for a long moment.
“What are you smiling at?”
He is quick to lock his phone before Jieun can peek into it. He squares his shoulders, his defences taking their positions, and his irritation meter spiking to the red.
“What do you want?”
Jieun stares at his phone, and then at him, “with some less venom in your words will be a good starting point of what I need from you.”
Before his irritation meter can break, he excuses himself and leaves to the coffee room. Jieun follows him, her flowery scent filling the room. He rubs his itchy nose with the back of his hand, checking the time on the wall clock. Only thirty minutes have passed.
“Seungcheol, I know you are angry,” she shoves herself between the coffee machine and him, he sneezes into his elbow, taking a few steps back, “but please, listen to me, I didn’t know they’ll put me into your team.”
“They did,” he grits his teeth, reaching out for tissues, “in the end, didn’t they?”
“It’s not my fault.” She points out. “I have the freedom to work wherever I want.”
Seungcheol is glad this section of the office is empty. “Lower your voice. Please.” He maintains a respectful space between them. “You have the freedom, of course, you do. Didn’t you think of informing me once? The entire two hours drive you kept on updating about your life, even updated about the receptionist in your damn apartment but not once you are interviewing here or anything.”
Jieun looks lost for words. It all comes back to him, the time he was involved with her, the moments he held onto just because he wanted to try and be a better person, a relationship kind of guy.
“You know how I feel getting involved with someone at work. Crossing boundaries.” The words bite back his own skin, the nights he spent in your bed, the laughs, the mistakes, haunts him and Seungcheol feels restless. His rash decisions will eat him one day. He knows this. “We are not in a relationship anyway,” he trashes the crumpled tissue, seemingly done with everything, “and I want to keep our history in a closed book. I want us to be professional in and out of the office. So please stop searching for me if it’s not for work.”
Seungcheol exits the room without a second thought or a glance.
—
The week doesn’t get any better. It only pummels him down to the ground. The mansion, his parents’ house, awaits in front of him. The same smell of grass, the housekeepers moving about their day breaking their backs for his mom and the need to satisfy her. He knows the feeling. He lived in this house for twenty years. And he could only breathe normally outside those damn huge gates.
He exits his car, nodding his head to the same man, Mr. Jung, who has been in charge of the house ever since his childhood. The elder man only returns a gentle smile that is always present on his face whenever he sees him. Seungcheol ascend the small steps, reaching the door, his reflection staring back at him on the glass mirror. He averts his eyes from his face, opening the door and bracing himself as if he is entering a war.
Today marks thirty-third wedding anniversary of his parents. A celebration. The house is big, spacious with minimal furniture and decor pieces his mom carefully collected and designed. Beige and brown. A color combination he came to hate from seeing it everywhere for twenty years.
The click of his shoes resounds the high ceilings, he sets the present on the coffee table before he goes to the dining hall. He checks the time on his watch, six in the evening, and he has two hours and fifty minutes more. After that he has to escape from here. In the three hours, he has to keep a good grip over his anger. It’s not worth the cold treatment that encompasses him the weeks after. He is tired from work and life as it is. He doesn’t need to add more to it.
The dining hall is sparkling under the chandelier hanging over the table. Korean cuisine spread over the long table, the dark orange soups, the sizzling meat, and the steam from the hot food has his stomach grumbling. He remembers that he didn’t eat a single meal the entire day, too cooped up in his work.
He shrugs off his jacket, a butler steps in accepting it from him, and disappears into one of the many rooms. Seungcheol stands in the middle of the huge hall where he spent hours sitting alone during his school. The corner chair at the end of the table he always sat stared back at him. The books he spread over waiting for his parents or brother to come home, talk or play with him. The adult Seungcheol scoffs at his own innocence. Talk or play? They barely know which year he is in.
Seungcheol moves to the kitchen, nodding to the greetings from the cooks and maids, he calmly cleans his hands, accepts a hand towel from a maid and exits back to the dining table. He drags the chair at the corner end, making himself comfortable. He had twenty years of experience in experimenting with the right angle to sit so he can get cozy in this huge open house.
“Mr. and Mrs. Choi are stuck in traffic, they’ll be here soon, young master.” Mr.Jung announces. “Shall I serve some snacks in the meantime?”
Seungcheol gives a tight smile, “I’m not a child, Mr. Jung. It’s fine, I’ll wait for them.”
A sad upturn of smile on Mr. Jung’s face has Seungcheol to turn his face away to the phone in his hands. No matter how many years pass, no matter how old he gets, this house never fails in making him feel what ten years old Seungcheol felt. As if he will always be the ten year old boy here, waiting, longing, push-over.
“Sure, sir.” Mr. Jung bows, his old bones cracking, “Your brother is already here. He will join you in ten minutes.”
Mr. Jung leaves Seungcheol to his own devices before Seungcheol can ask him about his health or family. Regret sits on the tip of his tongue watching the slouched back of the old man who made sure to never leave him alone. He hates this house, always for making him feel things he runs away from.
He unlocks his phone, opens the social media, and quick to search for your profile. No new stories or posts. Not even a capture of Clementine on her walk. He scrolls down, opening a compilation of poems. Something about oranges or clementines or tangerines.
Why are you always posting about fruits and vegetables? You always push away them while eating. He doesn’t understand the meaning behind the simple words that sit in those poems, always going over his head and it’s not like he has someone to teach the essence of the words and the feelings they carry to the heart.
A chair scrapes across the shiny white marble floor. Seungcheol grips his phone, not looking up at the person who joined him. His brother too doesn’t acknowledge Seungcheol’s presence. Nothing ever changes in this house.
He exits your profile unable to invest too much of his brain to decipher the poems he read time and time. Sohyeon has a story up, and Mina too. His stomach gives a familiar lurch. They met. And Seungcheol didn’t know. Again.
It’s a blurry image of cards, snacks. Mina posted a short video, the laughter and music and loud voices blasts out of his phone to this silent house, he exits the story in a heartbeat. He locks the phone, clasps his hands and stares at the ceiling, the lights flicker beautifully. A hollow feeling blankets him.
Footsteps echo. Seungcheol snaps out, his eyes struggling to adjust after watching the bright lights for god knows how long. His parents are already pulling their chairs and sitting. His father at the head of the table, and his mom leaves the two empty chairs and sits in the middle.
“The traffic was long.” His father grunts, already irritated and angry. “Why didn’t you start? Why do you think the food is already served?”
The maids rush to serve food. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, letting them do their work. Once the food is served, his family begins eating in silence except for the sounds from chopsticks and the bowls. He devours the food, realising he is starving.
“Stop inhaling your food.” His mother scolds, “where are your manners? That’s why I don’t want you kids to live on your own. Manners picked up from who knows what places. Your father doesn’t understand the concept as he himself lacks a few.”
Seungcheol shuts his eyes. It’s starting. He slows down chewing, sitting straighter and holding the cutlery in a proper way.
“What do you mean?” His father barks out, dropping the spoon into his bowl of soup, the orange liquid splattering all over the place. “Watch your mouth.”
Seungcheol scoops more rice into his empty bowl.
“Boys learn from their father.” His mother doesn’t back down, snapping her finger at a maid to clean the mess. “Isn’t that why he is living with that,” she shuts her mouth in disgust to even say her name, “vile woman?”
Seungcheol’s brother slams his chopsticks down, his hand accidentally hitting the bowl of rice, sending it toppling on the floor. “Respect. Speak of her with respect.”
His mother crosses her arms, sending a pointed look at her husband. Like father, like son.
Seungcheol stares at the empty bowl of rice, when did he even eat it? A maid helps him in getting more rice, while the other moves silently cleaning the mess. He wonders who will clean the mess of this family.
His father thunders, “what are you insinuating?”
“If only you didn’t fuck that young secretary of yours, your children wouldn’t have learned to seek the same!”
And just like that Seungcheol transports back to that evening. He came home early ditching his classes. The maids were tense and in a hurry to get him into his room. Mr. Jung, determined to lead him to his bed under the ruse of his new gaming CD has arrived.
He heard a sound he never heard in his lifetime. His father is laughing and coddling a young woman. A happiness he never saw written all over his father’s face. He looked young next to her, a woman who is not his mother.
“More rice, young master.” The maid sets the bowl, scurrying back to the kitchen.
Seungcheol looks over at his father who is stricken by the words. Their eyes met for a brief second, his father saw him that evening, and he remembers the same now.
His father turns away, spitting the words, “you never change.”
He leaves the table. The silence is back again. Seungcheol looks at his half empty plate and bowl. Suddenly feeling so full that he will vomit at the idea or sight of food. He turns to Mr. Jung standing in a corner who nods in return.
Maids clear his plates. He sits there, waiting for his family to be done. His brother eats his food, stuffing his face. His mother is delicate about it, taking her time to eat, never leaving her manners even if there’s an empty chair at the head of the table. Her wedding ring sparkles under the chandelier lights.
Seungcheol is glad that his finger is empty.
“Break up with her.” His mother addresses his elder son. “She is no good news.”
The reply is throwing the plate to the ground and also a loud slam of the chair falling to the floor as he leaves. With no second thoughts or second glance.
His mother continues to eat, grabbing a piece of kimchi and putting it on top of her flavoured rice. She looks small, her hand shaking as she brings the spoon to her mouth. The unshed tears also sparkle like the diamond on her finger.
Seungcheol swallows. He sits there until she completes her dinner.
—
The TV screen illuminates the dark apartment. The sport commentary fills the silence. Seungcheol follows the players, the game between two teams whom he isn’t rooting for. It’s Thursday, and he has absolutely nothing to do.
He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and lies down on the couch, then flips to his side and then angles his neck, he sits up, giving up. Can he get any more listless?
The commentators whoops as one of the player scores. Seungcheol flips the channel to some old movies, two minutes into the movie he exits and opens a streaming service. He plays a random movie knowing well enough that he isn’t gonna stick to it either.
The routine starts again. He sits cross-legged, leans back and then lies down and before he can angle his neck properly his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.
He answers in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Clementine is asking for you.” Soonyoung screams on the other end. “Uh, and also bring beer. She needs to have a drink. Bye.”
Someone scoffs on his side and the line cuts. Seungcheol stares at his phone, blinking once, twice, and he is reaching for his keys, turning off the TV.
—
Three weeks. It has been three fucking long weeks since he last saw you—in person, not on someone else’s stories. His self inflicted break from you has not helped in any sense, rather his screen time has grown and he learned new words like Hamartia.
Seungcheol sets the case of beers on the table alongside the food. The apartment is crowded, rowdier and hosting new people. He leans against the table, unzipping his hoodie watching the two new men sitting on the couch. Clementine stuck to one of them, the tallest one.
Three weeks and she has forgotten about him. He balls the hoodie, moving across the living room and opens the closet, shoving it in. If a dog, dubbed as the loyal creature on this planet, can move on from him, he can’t dare to think about what you are feeling.
He moves across the room, occupying one of the idle chairs, looking around the apartment. It is still the same, the books are everywhere, throw blankets overflowing and food scent wafting through. If he is to slide his hand underneath this chair he bets his entire worth that he will find a book.
“Soonyoung, get the fuck out!” Your shrill scream from the kitchen breaks the serenity in the room, everyone pausing to look at the kitchen. “Hands off. Did you even wash? I’ll kill you, let’s end this today.”
Just like that everyone moves on. Nothing has changed. Seungcheol smiles to himself at you screaming at Soonyoung, the agitation only he can bring out of you.
“Don’t we have to help her?” The giant asks Vernon. “I think she needs help. Clementine baby, let me go pacify your mom before she pulls out her friend’s head, okay baby?” He carefully sets her head on the couch, giving a few rubs before running towards the kitchen.
Seungcheol stares at his clasped hands. What?
Sohyeon and Mina giggles among themselves, checking over the kitchen, apparently the most happening spot tonight, and giggles some more.
Seungcheol frowns, the long strands of his hair poking into his eyes, he brushes them away, only to fall back on his eyes. He leans back, glaring at the kitchen that now houses laughter, laughter from you.
“I never heard her that happy.” Mina sighs, dreamily, “she found her happiness. Finally.”
What?
The glasses guy, somehow familiar yet Seungcheol can’t pin a name to his face, is watching him. The frown deepens on Seungcheol’s face, not understanding what is going on here. Why are everyone acting out of their character?
Soonyoung saunters into the living room, claiming the giant’s seat. He pokes the glasses guy, a sense of familiarity already evident in their bond.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? That junior she mentioned.” Sohyeon sets her mug on the coffee table, “something about him not being an eater.”
Dread descents upon Seungcheol’s shoulders. He remembers the girls talking about a guy from your office. The one who has a crush on you. Mingyu.
Seungcheol’s body is warm, hot even. The room presses on him, a white flare of light pounding his head. He reaches for the stray beer bottle, stops remembering there are new faces and he isn’t buddy enough with them to drink from their bottles.
He surveys the area for a familiar pink imprint. None. He raises from the couch, sauntering towards the beer case, pulling out one. The music is low, some rap song he never listened to or heard playing in this household. This apartment only entertains slow steady songs, or bright songs like hey, jude. It’s been so long since he heard that song play, he should be happy that he didn’t get to hear it because if you are choosing that one it only means you are in deep shit.
Seungcheol doesn’t want that for you.
He rests his hip against the table, sipping on the semi cold drink. The nutty flavor of it doesn’t satiate his palate but this drink is his true friend for the night. Since everyone seems to forget his presence with the arrival of new shiny things.
“Jihoon, is he really dating that junior?” Mina prods the glasses guy.
Jihoon who can’t stop staring at him, finally with one slow drag of his eyes across Seungcheol’s stance, addresses the question. “Not dating. More like fucking I think.”
Sohyeon grimaces. “Crass.”
“No wonder Soonyoung likes you.” Mina gives a disgusting look at him. “What do you mean fucking? Are there no feelings involved? I don’t think a person like him is good for our sweet girl.”
“What makes you think our sweet girl isn’t involved in some frivolous activities herself?” Jihoon quirk his eyebrow.
Seungcheol swears he looked at him, as if accusing to be the partner in the sinful activity. Who the fuck is this guy? He vaguely remembers meeting him in some of the parties. Does he know anything that has been happening in the confines of these walls? Did you talk to him?
“She would never.” Sohyeon is so quick in her defence as if repulsed by the mere suggestion that Seungcheol turns away from the group. “She is too precious to do some vile actions.”
Vernon chimes in, “calm down, darlin’, she ain’t doing a sin even if she gets involved in some action.”
“Agree.” Jihoon adds.
“That’s not the point here.” Mina breaks in, “Mingyu makes her smile and laugh, she relaxes in his presence. Like they are someone that is meant to be together.”
“You got all this from one meeting?”
The disbelief and incredible look from Vernon has Mina’s cheeks pink. Jihoon pats her hand in consolation. Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the gesture.
“I mean look at them,” Mina justifies, “she didn’t even, or like, have been human for the last three weeks. Her mother visited, for god’s sake, you know how it throws her off. Soonyoung couldn’t handle the aftermath, and now she is laughing. Just because of Mingyu.”
The bottle slips a little from Seungcheol’s hand, he catches it in time and swears under his breath. He sets the bottle on the table, tapping his fingers. Fuck. Your mom visited? And he wasn’t there. What a damn prick he is.
“Shh, shh, they are coming,” Sohyeon warns the group, “so what do you think about this song?”
Seungcheol holds his breath, shadows of three people emerging from the kitchen. He chews on his lip, biting it in contemplation, it’s been three weeks, three long weeks, and you are finally in the same vicinity as him. He tastes blood on his tongue, he taps his finger on the flat surface, tilting his head watching you over his shoulder.
His breath catches in his throat. You look worse. He turns towards the group, taking you in completely. Sunken eyes. The adorable swell of your cheeks are no more. And you look weak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seungcheol gets restless, rubbing his chin, calculating how he can get you alone. Will you let him take you away? After what has gone down between you two. You called it off that night. You did. Seungcheol heard it, but he won’t let it hinder him. It is not over until he is done. And he is not done.
You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Clementine jumps off the couch, lazily, swirling around your legs. You rub behind her ears in greeting, your eyes moving across the room, checking the shoes at the entrance, a jerk in your body, frantically looking across the couch and makeshift couch, and you straighten up at the hand on your waist. Mingyu pats Clementine along with you.
Seungcheol taps his foot on the wooden floor, cracking his neck. Bloody red infiltrates his vision for a brief moment. You step away from him with a friendly smile letting him have Clementine all to himself. And you converse with Mina something about popcorn or the caramel, you are excusing yourself, moving towards where he is.
Your eyes land on him, a singular sweep from his crossed legs at ankles, the laidback form—his hips resting on the table, the gentle hold on the bottle he didn’t know when he picked up, the same mockery disbelief twitch of your lips seeing his watch, and then slow drag from his chest to his lips to his eyes. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
You stand next to him, arranging and rearranging the tissues, plates without a single greeting or acknowledgement. Yet Seungcheol, ever the pessimist and disbeliever in coincidences and fate, feels that you missed him. He can’t bring out proofs and receipts, relying on just the connection that he has with you. He just knows it.
Some things have changed, for good, he hopes.
He helps you in scooping food onto your plate. “How are your levels?”
You pause getting more salad, looking at him, eyes widened at the question. Seungcheol resists the urge to lean in closer to you, the subtle scent of soft cocoa of your body lotion luring him into the dangerous territories. He settles for squeezing ranch onto your plate.
You scoff, slapping his hand away. “They are good. And none of your concern.”
Some things didn’t change. You are still angry with him. Rightfully, so.
The list of questions on the tip of his tongue dies down. It’s been so long and you look so vulnerable, and he has so many questions. Starting with your mom and why you didn’t tell him. You always seek him out after the visits. He was always there helping you not to tip over to the darkside.
Done with plating food, you turn away, slowly, your arm brushing against his, your eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second at the contact. Seungcheol grips the ranch bottle, he knows that expression. He has seen that countless times. You do miss him.
“Hey,” Mingyu is behind you, holding the plate for you, “do you need anything else?”
The ranch squeezes out splattering across the food spread, his black tee and on Seungcheol’s face. He drops the bottle, reaching for tissues with his good hand, and dabs his shirt. The white mark just worsens.
“Fuck.” He swears, he just splurged on this shirt recently. Can at least one day go peacefully?
Soonyoung reaches out to a fry, “oh,” he dabs it in the ranch on Seungcheol’s hand, and bites onto it. “Salty.”
Will he go to jail when he beats the shit out of his close friend? Does bearing him for five years is enough reason to not go to jail after breaking his bones?
Soonyoung hums his way back to annoy Clementine by grabbing her tail. Seungcheol notices you sitting next to Mingyu with him swiping food from your plate.
The glasses guy, Jihoon, tilts his head at Seungcheol, frowning. Seungcheol throws the bottle on the table, disappearing into your room and into the bathroom.
He splashes the water onto his face, the coldness of it helps in regulating the heat radiating out of him. Why is he burning up? It’s not even summer yet. He plucks out a nearly folded towel and dabs his face.
Questions sprout inside his head. He exits the bathroom, stands in your room, the simmering heat inside him cools down. He strides towards the bed and sits on it.
Warmth spreads across him as if the room realises that he is here, welcoming him back into the secret they carry. He plucks out the book fallen onto the ground. There are pages and pages of words he can’t sit and read, two minutes in he is closing the book.
He runs his finger down the spine of the book, wondering, how much longer he has permission to be in this room, in this world they created. The atmosphere in the living room suggests that he doesn’t have much, maybe already lost it, and he is holding onto the ends of the thread.
He shouldn’t have picked up his phone that night. He shouldn’t have rushed out in worry. He should have let Jieun be stranded in a dark place, she is an adult, she could have navigated it. Fuck, he can’t live with himself knowing he left a girl in need of help. At that point of time, the safety of a woman took precedence over him having a good time.
He should have learnt to articulate the scene better, made you comfortable before leaving, reassuring and promising. Seungcheol isn’t that man, at least not at that time, learning as he grows.
He sees a shadow circling outside the door. His time is up here. He sets the book back on the nightstand. He looks around the room one last time before opening the door. Clementine jumps on him, remembering.
Some things have changed and at the same time didn’t.
Seungcheol kneels down, letting her rub herself against him. He pets her to her heart’s content, smiling at her tail wagging at high speed.
“I’m telling you,” Sohyeon is standing in the middle of the room, a bottle in her hand, “eating a girl out is more important than the act of fucking.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth knowing where this is going. He saunters to the only space available next to Vernon, Clementine sits on his feet.
Mingyu looks over at her once and then at Seungcheol. Sohyeon is ranting about female pleasure and how important it is. Mingyu is forced to address the issue, he leans back, an arm behind you, as he agrees with Sohyeon.
You calmly eat your food. Seungcheol plays with Clementine’s ears.
“I agree.” Mingyu says, “it’s essential in order to get more out of the session. Physical session.”
“One of my ex,” Mina hiccups, taking the center stage, “was so awful,” she grimaces, “so awful that he couldn’t find which is which for ten minutes.”
The group oohs in consolation.
“That’s awful.” Vernon nods, “I had a girl once vomit when she was, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed, “giving me some.”
A chorus of nooo echoes.
Mingyu snaps his fingers, jerking forward with new found enthusiasm, “that’s what I am saying. I had a horrible time once, during my college, a girl,” he shudders, “was so yuck it traumatized me to go down. For like my entire life.”
Mixed reactions go off, Clementine too, growling in a low tone. You finally look at Mingyu, curiosity written all over your face. Seungcheol drops his head down, patting Clementine.
He looks back up, and you are watching Clementine, at her closed eyes in ecstasy as Seungcheol scratches her favorite spot, your eyes trails up to his watch, following his veins, and snaps to Sohyeon as she takes back the attention.
“That’s horrible.” Sohyeon points her finger at him. “You could have guided her. The poor girl must be traumatized. You must have done something wrong!”
“I did not.” Mingyu defends with his entire chest. “I have helped her through and through.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, swirling Clementine’s soft ears between his fingers. Something doesn’t add up.
You raise your eyebrow at the lone fry on your plate, scoffing under your breath. Mingyu rearranges himself, sitting straighter and his hand no longer touching you.
Vernon taps your thigh, opening his mouth. You stab your fork onto the last fry and feed him.
“Didn’t you guys ever date? Like inside of the group?” Mingyu asks, staring at Vernon and his hand on your thigh.
Soonyoung rises from the trenches, high and red, “no. This is a sacred group, no love, no lust. I’ll kill anyone who breaks the sanctity.”
You stare at Soonyoung crooning about the essence of friendship and how feelings will ruin everything. His eyes drag up from the v shaped tee you are wearing, too loose that one sleeve of it is in verge of sliding down your shoulder. Seungcheol can’t help but look at the length of your neck, remembering the times he buried himself in the curve. He frowns at the fading mark of a hickey. Right in the place he always leaves one. But it has been three weeks, and his eyes move to the man sitting beside you.
He can’t, no, he doesn’t want to imagine a guy putting his lips on your skin. Leaving a hickey is out of the topic. All he can see is red.
You are unfazed about the passionate speech Soonyoung is giving. Are you really done with him? Did you move on from him? No, if you find someone you always let him know. You didn’t send a single text. But why would you when you ended it already?
Clementine looks up at him. He blinks, coming back to the room and feeling all eyes on him.
“What?”
“Tell me, my friend,” Soonyoung stumbles towards him, holding out the mouth of the beer bottle towards him as a mic, “confess here, the stage is yours.”
Seungcheol gulps, “confess what?”
“Your feelings about fraternizing in close circles.”
Seungcheol looks around, few moved on from Soonyoung’s atrocities, he catches your eye, waiting and how can he answer with you here, when you two did exactly what Soonyoung vehemently said no, what Seungcheol is against too. Jihoon leans in, catching him looking at you. What is with this guy and his intrusive stares as if he knows something? Fuck. If he ever just casually says his suspicions about him and you to Soonyoung, everything goes to hell. Soonyoung can get nasty. And Seungcheol doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it right now. Not when you have a hickey from some man he has no idea of.
“It’s bad.”
“Can’t hear.”
Seungcheol swears under his breath, glaring at his friend, “it’s bad, it ruins the whole group. Fraternizing with someone from the office and close friends destroys everything.”
“Office?” Mingyu frowns, “there’s nothing wrong in getting involved with your coworker, until both of you are amicable about it.”
It ticks off a fuse inside him. Seungcheol continues without realizing, “it is never amicable. There are rules and regulations enforced by HR for a reason. Preposterous to even consider it.”
Mingyu scoffs, “sorry to break it to you, man, but feelings aren’t something that you always have control over. It can happen anywhere and with anyone. Fuck with HR, man.”
Vernon nods beside Seungcheol.
“What about the aftermath? You end things, and then what?”
Mingyu shrugs, “if it’s too much you just change jobs. Big deal.”
“Just like how you blame the girl for—”
“Break it off. Put your big dicks back inside. Don’t ruin the evening.” Mina throws a tissue in peace offering.
Seungcheol doesn’t meet your watchful eyes, he knows you are looking at him. And also why.
His breathing is heavy, and he is back to feeling like a fucking furnace. What’s with today and everyone getting on his nerves?
“Going back to the embarrassing bedroom stories,” Mina pipes up again, stealing glances at Jihoon, “don’t you guys have more? I bet Soonyoung sex life is about embarrassment.”
“A very fuck you.” He grins to himself, “my girl and I are very very very happy. That’s all you get.”
“There was this guy,” you speak up and the entire room silences except for the music playing in the background. Seungcheol gulps. You don’t look at him once, continuing, “we were in the middle of it, and he was checking his messages from his ex.”
Seungcheol’s heart drops to his fucking feet. What are you doing?
Soonyoung turns to you with a scary expression. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Seungcheol licks his lips.
“And he left without saying anything.” You shrug. “That’s my embarrassing story.”
“What?” Vernon squeaks.
“Oh, he left me naked and feeling dirty in my own skin.” You explain, looking at Vernon but not at Seungcheol who is sitting right beside. “I don’t think I can give you more details.”
Vernon’s hand is back on your thigh. “I would never do that to you, babygirl.”
Soonyoung growls. “Vernon.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu softly pats your hair, “that’s the worst thing to happen.”
“Who is that bastard?” Sohyeon is standing right next to Soonyoung carrying the same scary expression. “Tell me who it is, I’ll skin him alive.”
“Some guy.” You shake your head, smiling, “nothing of importance.”
Seungcheol can’t turn his eyes away from you, tasting the betrayal, and not understanding why you did what you did. You turn to him once the room begrudgingly moves on, looking at him as if he really is some guy and of no importance.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, family issues, some violence but not towards people, reader is diabetic, kinda unedited
wc: 7.5k
c's note: :) thank you @choco-scoups for reading over it and telling me it is good. lemme know how you felt reading this chapter!
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Seungcheol’s finger circles on the smooth dial of his watch. The meeting room’s lights reflect off of the silver of the dial as he watches the seconds hand make its round. This one cost him a fortune, the navy color attracted his attention creating a desire to get his hands on it. He did. Another quest done.
The door opens. He minimizes the browser tab of his next quest, a new collection released from his favorite brand. Another quest soon to start. He stands up from his chair, wincing at the squeaking sound it does, welcoming in the new joinees.
A man looms at the door, peeking in, “Mr.Choi?” He enters the room, holding the door open for the second one.
Seungcheol remembers to check for their names in the mail. He has been so out of touch since his schedule has been hectic and demanding, and also there’s you who is still not talking with him and the gnawing regret that always follows the thoughts of you.
He finds the mail chain—Jeonghan, Jieun. Jieun?
Jeonghan naturally takes the chair across from him with a woman occupying the one next to him. Jieun. Seungcheol’s world tilts across the axis, everything falling across the domains he carefully separated and segregated. He never allows one part of his life to collide with others. But life is a bitch. And he is here, standing across from his ex.
She smiles at him, professional and personal intertwined, a knowing smile. Seungcheol clenches his jaw taking his seat, he stares at the mail sitting in his inbox.
The mail has been in his inbox for two days. How can he miss it? If the recruitment was a quick process, that means she might have interviewed after he picked her up from the middle of nowhere. Or was it ongoing by then? How come she didn’t mention it once during the hour long ride.
A perfect ploy.
Seungcheol fists his hand under the table. He must not lose control. Without sparing a single glance at her, he opens the presentation on his laptop. “I know you are already aware of me,” he speaks to Jeonghan, a bit unprofessional not considering her too, but she should have thought about it when she purposefully hid it, “Choi Seungcheol, your team lead, but call me Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan grins, “so no sir?”
Seungcheol’s lips twitch, “no sir.” He clicks on the presentation mode on his laptop, the slides present on the TV that is connected. “Brad should be giving this induction, but an important call has kept him from joining us. I’ll make it as quick as I can. If you guys can briefly introduce yourselves.”
Jeonghan gestures for Jieun to go first. She smiles gratefully at him before turning to Seungcheol. “I’m Jieun. I have heard a lot about this team, especially about your leadership, excited to be working with you.”
“I’m not the manager. Just a team lead.” He clarifies, a bit glad that she didn’t bring in their personal history into this. “Whatever you have heard, it’s all Brad.”
Her eyebrows knit together. He moves on to Jeonghan, waiting for him to speak. The friendly grin slips back onto Jeonghan’s lips, and Seungcheol just knows he is gonna be more than colleagues with him. Just how Soonyoung and he did before Soonyoung moved away.
“Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. Jieun was right, I too, heard a lot about you. The teams don’t talk usually, but everyone did when they knew which project I was joining.” Jeonghan relaxes a bit in his seat, Seungcheol narrows his eyes, suspicious that this new guy is already comfortable. “So there’s that.”
Seungcheol gives a small smile, turning to the slideshow, “shall we get started?”
—
Seungcheol knows that other teams talk about him. Or tries to talk to him. The game goes this way, always, they come up to him, mostly the female coworkers, with a doubt or a workflow process or status update, based on the query he analyses the real motivation behind it.
Not all doubts are professional. Not everyone gets to know him personally. He hates to get involved with someone from the workplace. Or with no friends. He always has an invisible line he follows, building the walls higher, and not letting his dating world mix with his work life or friendships.
And then there is you.
He stands on the wide expanse of the balcony looking over the one end of the city. The sea meets its shore, small ripples as it rushes towards the land. A gloomy sky threatens down on the city, always carrying a threat of rain, hiding the sun behind its crying clouds.
He doesn’t enjoy the rain, the roads get murky and his clothes damp from running from the building to his car and vice versa. This city, a cold city, has been his home ever since he was born here, went to the school, and spent his youth, adulthood, but never once he felt he was home.
“That's one beauty.” Jeonghan steps beside him, looking over the overwhelming blue, and the ships that slowly sail across. “This view is one of the main reasons I wanted to work here.”
Seungcheol pockets his cold hands inside his hoodie. “A view is more important than the growth, and compensation a company offers?”
Jeonghan shrugs, “have you seen the ocean?”
Seungcheol turns to the blue sea. “My entire life.”
Jeonghan laughs, “that’s the problem with you locals.” He rests his arms on the railings, closing his eyes when a gentle breeze brushes past them in a silent greeting. “You don’t realise it’s beauty. Because it’s just there and you never looked for it.”
Seungcheol watches the slow ripples. “It’s a routine you’ll get used to. Give it a month and you’ll be rethinking your decision. Compensation will start looking tempting then.”
Jeonghan laughs, “funny guy.” He straightens up, “let’s put a pin on that. After thirty days let’s discuss it again.”
Seungcheol eyes the male, the underlying challenge and his determined smile. The strong belief that his feelings will not change with time is something that makes Seungcheol laugh. But he doesn’t. He gives a single nod, and looks back at the sea.
The same green ship he looked ever since he can start forming memories sails in its pursuit to the other end of the land.
Things tend to get boring. And Seungcheol knows it firsthand.
—
The office hours aren’t over yet. Two more fucking hours to be spent in this godawful pretentious office before he can go back to his lonely abode. The work is sitting right across him, on the screen, waiting for him to complete it. Seungcheol’s on his phone, yet again.
Social media is a weird place. He didn’t always associate himself with the happenings of almost strangers—his friends aka followers—life, or specifically go look for them. It sort of happened. Just how Soonyoung came into his life, eventually you did and he somehow found himself erasing the number one rule he set on himself, well, maybe second. The first being not interacting with his family for more than three hours. Something about mental health and not falling into a pit hole called depression or melancholy.
Second being not fucking his friend. Or having any sort of physical relationships with someone close.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, his jaw flexing as the memories of the night that started it all flashes before him. He sits up in his chair, unbuttoning the collar and watches the blank computer screen in front of him. He drops the phone on the desk, clicking his mouse and invests himself in the work. He will do anything to escape from the vice grip that night holds on him.
Two minutes in, and he is already reaching for his phone, unlocking it. There it is, your profile, ready for his hundredth exploration since that impromptu meeting on Saturday, and his self-inflicted break from you. In the middle of the night, during a monotone meeting, right after shutting his alarm in the morning, and during his break hour, he swiftly checks on the posts or stories you have posted, if there’s none, he scrolls down to see your older posts.
Some might call him a stalker. But no one knows him, so he is still plain Seungcheol for everyone.
You have added a new story. Seungcheol clicks on it, a poem.
I waited for so long for love
and suddenly, here it is
standing in the garden, hands full
of heirlooms hot from the sun.
Soon we’ll make a supper of them.
Salted slabs between slices of bread.
Your bread silvers. My hips ripen.
The mail piles up.
Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us.
Our mouths are full of tomatoes.
We are so busy
being small and hungry and alive.
Tomatoes
Joy Sullivan
Seungcheol sets the phone on the white desk, looming over it rereading the lines again. What does this actually mean? He remembers the piles of books he found everywhere in your home, a book always lying around on the desk, corners of the couch, in the kitchen, and your bedroom is a temple of books. And he barely passed his lit course in school.
The story moves to some person’s highlight of their lives. Seungcheol goes back to your story, now a new comment added to it.
soo you want me to bring you some tomatoes?
Seungcheol sits back in his chair, humming in thought. Are you out of groceries just like Soonyoung suggested? The story has already moved on to several peoples’. Seungcheol grunts, going back to your profile and opening your story again. Now only your story will be played or the app takes back to your profile once the thirty second display is done. He would rather sit and stare at Clementine on your profile picture than some random food pictures or men diving or women laughing over drinks.
Vernon adds another comment.
here you dropped this
It’s an emoji of brain. And then the group is sending tomato emoji.
why did i even post this
And the story is deleted.
You are not out of your groceries then? He refreshes your page, just in case you posted anything new. None. So he scrolls through your page, pausing over Clementine pictures and opening a few poetry posts. Not one picture of you.
He opens Soonyoung’s profile, scrolling down, pausing his thumb right where the carousel of the pictures are. He is quick in swiping past the first three photos, and there you are, captured between your unrestricted laugh.
Seungcheol’s shoulders slouches down, he zooms in on your smile, and the crinkle at the end of your eyes he knows that will be there, and just, the whole existence of you, he stares at it for a long moment.
“What are you smiling at?”
He is quick to lock his phone before Jieun can peek into it. He squares his shoulders, his defences taking their positions, and his irritation meter spiking to the red.
“What do you want?”
Jieun stares at his phone, and then at him, “with some less venom in your words will be a good starting point of what I need from you.”
Before his irritation meter can break, he excuses himself and leaves to the coffee room. Jieun follows him, her flowery scent filling the room. He rubs his itchy nose with the back of his hand, checking the time on the wall clock. Only thirty minutes have passed.
“Seungcheol, I know you are angry,” she shoves herself between the coffee machine and him, he sneezes into his elbow, taking a few steps back, “but please, listen to me, I didn’t know they’ll put me into your team.”
“They did,” he grits his teeth, reaching out for tissues, “in the end, didn’t they?”
“It’s not my fault.” She points out. “I have the freedom to work wherever I want.”
Seungcheol is glad this section of the office is empty. “Lower your voice. Please.” He maintains a respectful space between them. “You have the freedom, of course, you do. Didn’t you think of informing me once? The entire two hours drive you kept on updating about your life, even updated about the receptionist in your damn apartment but not once you are interviewing here or anything.”
Jieun looks lost for words. It all comes back to him, the time he was involved with her, the moments he held onto just because he wanted to try and be a better person, a relationship kind of guy.
“You know how I feel getting involved with someone at work. Crossing boundaries.” The words bite back his own skin, the nights he spent in your bed, the laughs, the mistakes, haunts him and Seungcheol feels restless. His rash decisions will eat him one day. He knows this. “We are not in a relationship anyway,” he trashes the crumpled tissue, seemingly done with everything, “and I want to keep our history in a closed book. I want us to be professional in and out of the office. So please stop searching for me if it’s not for work.”
Seungcheol exits the room without a second thought or a glance.
—
The week doesn’t get any better. It only pummels him down to the ground. The mansion, his parents’ house, awaits in front of him. The same smell of grass, the housekeepers moving about their day breaking their backs for his mom and the need to satisfy her. He knows the feeling. He lived in this house for twenty years. And he could only breathe normally outside those damn huge gates.
He exits his car, nodding his head to the same man, Mr. Jung, who has been in charge of the house ever since his childhood. The elder man only returns a gentle smile that is always present on his face whenever he sees him. Seungcheol ascend the small steps, reaching the door, his reflection staring back at him on the glass mirror. He averts his eyes from his face, opening the door and bracing himself as if he is entering a war.
Today marks thirty-third wedding anniversary of his parents. A celebration. The house is big, spacious with minimal furniture and decor pieces his mom carefully collected and designed. Beige and brown. A color combination he came to hate from seeing it everywhere for twenty years.
The click of his shoes resounds the high ceilings, he sets the present on the coffee table before he goes to the dining hall. He checks the time on his watch, six in the evening, and he has two hours and fifty minutes more. After that he has to escape from here. In the three hours, he has to keep a good grip over his anger. It’s not worth the cold treatment that encompasses him the weeks after. He is tired from work and life as it is. He doesn’t need to add more to it.
The dining hall is sparkling under the chandelier hanging over the table. Korean cuisine spread over the long table, the dark orange soups, the sizzling meat, and the steam from the hot food has his stomach grumbling. He remembers that he didn’t eat a single meal the entire day, too cooped up in his work.
He shrugs off his jacket, a butler steps in accepting it from him, and disappears into one of the many rooms. Seungcheol stands in the middle of the huge hall where he spent hours sitting alone during his school. The corner chair at the end of the table he always sat stared back at him. The books he spread over waiting for his parents or brother to come home, talk or play with him. The adult Seungcheol scoffs at his own innocence. Talk or play? They barely know which year he is in.
Seungcheol moves to the kitchen, nodding to the greetings from the cooks and maids, he calmly cleans his hands, accepts a hand towel from a maid and exits back to the dining table. He drags the chair at the corner end, making himself comfortable. He had twenty years of experience in experimenting with the right angle to sit so he can get cozy in this huge open house.
“Mr. and Mrs. Choi are stuck in traffic, they’ll be here soon, young master.” Mr.Jung announces. “Shall I serve some snacks in the meantime?”
Seungcheol gives a tight smile, “I’m not a child, Mr. Jung. It’s fine, I’ll wait for them.”
A sad upturn of smile on Mr. Jung’s face has Seungcheol to turn his face away to the phone in his hands. No matter how many years pass, no matter how old he gets, this house never fails in making him feel what ten years old Seungcheol felt. As if he will always be the ten year old boy here, waiting, longing, push-over.
“Sure, sir.” Mr. Jung bows, his old bones cracking, “Your brother is already here. He will join you in ten minutes.”
Mr. Jung leaves Seungcheol to his own devices before Seungcheol can ask him about his health or family. Regret sits on the tip of his tongue watching the slouched back of the old man who made sure to never leave him alone. He hates this house, always for making him feel things he runs away from.
He unlocks his phone, opens the social media, and quick to search for your profile. No new stories or posts. Not even a capture of Clementine on her walk. He scrolls down, opening a compilation of poems. Something about oranges or clementines or tangerines.
Why are you always posting about fruits and vegetables? You always push away them while eating. He doesn’t understand the meaning behind the simple words that sit in those poems, always going over his head and it’s not like he has someone to teach the essence of the words and the feelings they carry to the heart.
A chair scrapes across the shiny white marble floor. Seungcheol grips his phone, not looking up at the person who joined him. His brother too doesn’t acknowledge Seungcheol’s presence. Nothing ever changes in this house.
He exits your profile unable to invest too much of his brain to decipher the poems he read time and time. Sohyeon has a story up, and Mina too. His stomach gives a familiar lurch. They met. And Seungcheol didn’t know. Again.
It’s a blurry image of cards, snacks. Mina posted a short video, the laughter and music and loud voices blasts out of his phone to this silent house, he exits the story in a heartbeat. He locks the phone, clasps his hands and stares at the ceiling, the lights flicker beautifully. A hollow feeling blankets him.
Footsteps echo. Seungcheol snaps out, his eyes struggling to adjust after watching the bright lights for god knows how long. His parents are already pulling their chairs and sitting. His father at the head of the table, and his mom leaves the two empty chairs and sits in the middle.
“The traffic was long.” His father grunts, already irritated and angry. “Why didn’t you start? Why do you think the food is already served?”
The maids rush to serve food. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, letting them do their work. Once the food is served, his family begins eating in silence except for the sounds from chopsticks and the bowls. He devours the food, realising he is starving.
“Stop inhaling your food.” His mother scolds, “where are your manners? That’s why I don’t want you kids to live on your own. Manners picked up from who knows what places. Your father doesn’t understand the concept as he himself lacks a few.”
Seungcheol shuts his eyes. It’s starting. He slows down chewing, sitting straighter and holding the cutlery in a proper way.
“What do you mean?” His father barks out, dropping the spoon into his bowl of soup, the orange liquid splattering all over the place. “Watch your mouth.”
Seungcheol scoops more rice into his empty bowl.
“Boys learn from their father.” His mother doesn’t back down, snapping her finger at a maid to clean the mess. “Isn’t that why he is living with that,” she shuts her mouth in disgust to even say her name, “vile woman?”
Seungcheol’s brother slams his chopsticks down, his hand accidentally hitting the bowl of rice, sending it toppling on the floor. “Respect. Speak of her with respect.”
His mother crosses her arms, sending a pointed look at her husband. Like father, like son.
Seungcheol stares at the empty bowl of rice, when did he even eat it? A maid helps him in getting more rice, while the other moves silently cleaning the mess. He wonders who will clean the mess of this family.
His father thunders, “what are you insinuating?”
“If only you didn’t fuck that young secretary of yours, your children wouldn’t have learned to seek the same!”
And just like that Seungcheol transports back to that evening. He came home early ditching his classes. The maids were tense and in a hurry to get him into his room. Mr. Jung, determined to lead him to his bed under the ruse of his new gaming CD has arrived.
He heard a sound he never heard in his lifetime. His father is laughing and coddling a young woman. A happiness he never saw written all over his father’s face. He looked young next to her, a woman who is not his mother.
“More rice, young master.” The maid sets the bowl, scurrying back to the kitchen.
Seungcheol looks over at his father who is stricken by the words. Their eyes met for a brief second, his father saw him that evening, and he remembers the same now.
His father turns away, spitting the words, “you never change.”
He leaves the table. The silence is back again. Seungcheol looks at his half empty plate and bowl. Suddenly feeling so full that he will vomit at the idea or sight of food. He turns to Mr. Jung standing in a corner who nods in return.
Maids clear his plates. He sits there, waiting for his family to be done. His brother eats his food, stuffing his face. His mother is delicate about it, taking her time to eat, never leaving her manners even if there’s an empty chair at the head of the table. Her wedding ring sparkles under the chandelier lights.
Seungcheol is glad that his finger is empty.
“Break up with her.” His mother addresses his elder son. “She is no good news.”
The reply is throwing the plate to the ground and also a loud slam of the chair falling to the floor as he leaves. With no second thoughts or second glance.
His mother continues to eat, grabbing a piece of kimchi and putting it on top of her flavoured rice. She looks small, her hand shaking as she brings the spoon to her mouth. The unshed tears also sparkle like the diamond on her finger.
Seungcheol swallows. He sits there until she completes her dinner.
—
The TV screen illuminates the dark apartment. The sport commentary fills the silence. Seungcheol follows the players, the game between two teams whom he isn’t rooting for. It’s Thursday, and he has absolutely nothing to do.
He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and lies down on the couch, then flips to his side and then angles his neck, he sits up, giving up. Can he get any more listless?
The commentators whoops as one of the player scores. Seungcheol flips the channel to some old movies, two minutes into the movie he exits and opens a streaming service. He plays a random movie knowing well enough that he isn’t gonna stick to it either.
The routine starts again. He sits cross-legged, leans back and then lies down and before he can angle his neck properly his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.
He answers in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Clementine is asking for you.” Soonyoung screams on the other end. “Uh, and also bring beer. She needs to have a drink. Bye.”
Someone scoffs on his side and the line cuts. Seungcheol stares at his phone, blinking once, twice, and he is reaching for his keys, turning off the TV.
—
Three weeks. It has been three fucking long weeks since he last saw you—in person, not on someone else’s stories. His self inflicted break from you has not helped in any sense, rather his screen time has grown and he learned new words like Hamartia.
Seungcheol sets the case of beers on the table alongside the food. The apartment is crowded, rowdier and hosting new people. He leans against the table, unzipping his hoodie watching the two new men sitting on the couch. Clementine stuck to one of them, the tallest one.
Three weeks and she has forgotten about him. He balls the hoodie, moving across the living room and opens the closet, shoving it in. If a dog, dubbed as the loyal creature on this planet, can move on from him, he can’t dare to think about what you are feeling.
He moves across the room, occupying one of the idle chairs, looking around the apartment. It is still the same, the books are everywhere, throw blankets overflowing and food scent wafting through. If he is to slide his hand underneath this chair he bets his entire worth that he will find a book.
“Soonyoung, get the fuck out!” Your shrill scream from the kitchen breaks the serenity in the room, everyone pausing to look at the kitchen. “Hands off. Did you even wash? I’ll kill you, let’s end this today.”
Just like that everyone moves on. Nothing has changed. Seungcheol smiles to himself at you screaming at Soonyoung, the agitation only he can bring out of you.
“Don’t we have to help her?” The giant asks Vernon. “I think she needs help. Clementine baby, let me go pacify your mom before she pulls out her friend’s head, okay baby?” He carefully sets her head on the couch, giving a few rubs before running towards the kitchen.
Seungcheol stares at his clasped hands. What?
Sohyeon and Mina giggles among themselves, checking over the kitchen, apparently the most happening spot tonight, and giggles some more.
Seungcheol frowns, the long strands of his hair poking into his eyes, he brushes them away, only to fall back on his eyes. He leans back, glaring at the kitchen that now houses laughter, laughter from you.
“I never heard her that happy.” Mina sighs, dreamily, “she found her happiness. Finally.”
What?
The glasses guy, somehow familiar yet Seungcheol can’t pin a name to his face, is watching him. The frown deepens on Seungcheol’s face, not understanding what is going on here. Why are everyone acting out of their character?
Soonyoung saunters into the living room, claiming the giant’s seat. He pokes the glasses guy, a sense of familiarity already evident in their bond.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? That junior she mentioned.” Sohyeon sets her mug on the coffee table, “something about him not being an eater.”
Dread descents upon Seungcheol’s shoulders. He remembers the girls talking about a guy from your office. The one who has a crush on you. Mingyu.
Seungcheol’s body is warm, hot even. The room presses on him, a white flare of light pounding his head. He reaches for the stray beer bottle, stops remembering there are new faces and he isn’t buddy enough with them to drink from their bottles.
He surveys the area for a familiar pink imprint. None. He raises from the couch, sauntering towards the beer case, pulling out one. The music is low, some rap song he never listened to or heard playing in this household. This apartment only entertains slow steady songs, or bright songs like hey, jude. It’s been so long since he heard that song play, he should be happy that he didn’t get to hear it because if you are choosing that one it only means you are in deep shit.
Seungcheol doesn’t want that for you.
He rests his hip against the table, sipping on the semi cold drink. The nutty flavor of it doesn’t satiate his palate but this drink is his true friend for the night. Since everyone seems to forget his presence with the arrival of new shiny things.
“Jihoon, is he really dating that junior?” Mina prods the glasses guy.
Jihoon who can’t stop staring at him, finally with one slow drag of his eyes across Seungcheol’s stance, addresses the question. “Not dating. More like fucking I think.”
Sohyeon grimaces. “Crass.”
“No wonder Soonyoung likes you.” Mina gives a disgusting look at him. “What do you mean fucking? Are there no feelings involved? I don’t think a person like him is good for our sweet girl.”
“What makes you think our sweet girl isn’t involved in some frivolous activities herself?” Jihoon quirk his eyebrow.
Seungcheol swears he looked at him, as if accusing to be the partner in the sinful activity. Who the fuck is this guy? He vaguely remembers meeting him in some of the parties. Does he know anything that has been happening in the confines of these walls? Did you talk to him?
“She would never.” Sohyeon is so quick in her defence as if repulsed by the mere suggestion that Seungcheol turns away from the group. “She is too precious to do some vile actions.”
Vernon chimes in, “calm down, darlin’, she ain’t doing a sin even if she gets involved in some action.”
“Agree.” Jihoon adds.
“That’s not the point here.” Mina breaks in, “Mingyu makes her smile and laugh, she relaxes in his presence. Like they are someone that is meant to be together.”
“You got all this from one meeting?”
The disbelief and incredible look from Vernon has Mina’s cheeks pink. Jihoon pats her hand in consolation. Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the gesture.
“I mean look at them,” Mina justifies, “she didn’t even, or like, have been human for the last three weeks. Her mother visited, for god’s sake, you know how it throws her off. Soonyoung couldn’t handle the aftermath, and now she is laughing. Just because of Mingyu.”
The bottle slips a little from Seungcheol’s hand, he catches it in time and swears under his breath. He sets the bottle on the table, tapping his fingers. Fuck. Your mom visited? And he wasn’t there. What a damn prick he is.
“Shh, shh, they are coming,” Sohyeon warns the group, “so what do you think about this song?”
Seungcheol holds his breath, shadows of three people emerging from the kitchen. He chews on his lip, biting it in contemplation, it’s been three weeks, three long weeks, and you are finally in the same vicinity as him. He tastes blood on his tongue, he taps his finger on the flat surface, tilting his head watching you over his shoulder.
His breath catches in his throat. You look worse. He turns towards the group, taking you in completely. Sunken eyes. The adorable swell of your cheeks are no more. And you look weak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seungcheol gets restless, rubbing his chin, calculating how he can get you alone. Will you let him take you away? After what has gone down between you two. You called it off that night. You did. Seungcheol heard it, but he won’t let it hinder him. It is not over until he is done. And he is not done.
You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Clementine jumps off the couch, lazily, swirling around your legs. You rub behind her ears in greeting, your eyes moving across the room, checking the shoes at the entrance, a jerk in your body, frantically looking across the couch and makeshift couch, and you straighten up at the hand on your waist. Mingyu pats Clementine along with you.
Seungcheol taps his foot on the wooden floor, cracking his neck. Bloody red infiltrates his vision for a brief moment. You step away from him with a friendly smile letting him have Clementine all to himself. And you converse with Mina something about popcorn or the caramel, you are excusing yourself, moving towards where he is.
Your eyes land on him, a singular sweep from his crossed legs at ankles, the laidback form—his hips resting on the table, the gentle hold on the bottle he didn’t know when he picked up, the same mockery disbelief twitch of your lips seeing his watch, and then slow drag from his chest to his lips to his eyes. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
You stand next to him, arranging and rearranging the tissues, plates without a single greeting or acknowledgement. Yet Seungcheol, ever the pessimist and disbeliever in coincidences and fate, feels that you missed him. He can’t bring out proofs and receipts, relying on just the connection that he has with you. He just knows it.
Some things have changed, for good, he hopes.
He helps you in scooping food onto your plate. “How are your levels?”
You pause getting more salad, looking at him, eyes widened at the question. Seungcheol resists the urge to lean in closer to you, the subtle scent of soft cocoa of your body lotion luring him into the dangerous territories. He settles for squeezing ranch onto your plate.
You scoff, slapping his hand away. “They are good. And none of your concern.”
Some things didn’t change. You are still angry with him. Rightfully, so.
The list of questions on the tip of his tongue dies down. It’s been so long and you look so vulnerable, and he has so many questions. Starting with your mom and why you didn’t tell him. You always seek him out after the visits. He was always there helping you not to tip over to the darkside.
Done with plating food, you turn away, slowly, your arm brushing against his, your eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second at the contact. Seungcheol grips the ranch bottle, he knows that expression. He has seen that countless times. You do miss him.
“Hey,” Mingyu is behind you, holding the plate for you, “do you need anything else?”
The ranch squeezes out splattering across the food spread, his black tee and on Seungcheol’s face. He drops the bottle, reaching for tissues with his good hand, and dabs his shirt. The white mark just worsens.
“Fuck.” He swears, he just splurged on this shirt recently. Can at least one day go peacefully?
Soonyoung reaches out to a fry, “oh,” he dabs it in the ranch on Seungcheol’s hand, and bites onto it. “Salty.”
Will he go to jail when he beats the shit out of his close friend? Does bearing him for five years is enough reason to not go to jail after breaking his bones?
Soonyoung hums his way back to annoy Clementine by grabbing her tail. Seungcheol notices you sitting next to Mingyu with him swiping food from your plate.
The glasses guy, Jihoon, tilts his head at Seungcheol, frowning. Seungcheol throws the bottle on the table, disappearing into your room and into the bathroom.
He splashes the water onto his face, the coldness of it helps in regulating the heat radiating out of him. Why is he burning up? It’s not even summer yet. He plucks out a nearly folded towel and dabs his face.
Questions sprout inside his head. He exits the bathroom, stands in your room, the simmering heat inside him cools down. He strides towards the bed and sits on it.
Warmth spreads across him as if the room realises that he is here, welcoming him back into the secret they carry. He plucks out the book fallen onto the ground. There are pages and pages of words he can’t sit and read, two minutes in he is closing the book.
He runs his finger down the spine of the book, wondering, how much longer he has permission to be in this room, in this world they created. The atmosphere in the living room suggests that he doesn’t have much, maybe already lost it, and he is holding onto the ends of the thread.
He shouldn’t have picked up his phone that night. He shouldn’t have rushed out in worry. He should have let Jieun be stranded in a dark place, she is an adult, she could have navigated it. Fuck, he can’t live with himself knowing he left a girl in need of help. At that point of time, the safety of a woman took precedence over him having a good time.
He should have learnt to articulate the scene better, made you comfortable before leaving, reassuring and promising. Seungcheol isn’t that man, at least not at that time, learning as he grows.
He sees a shadow circling outside the door. His time is up here. He sets the book back on the nightstand. He looks around the room one last time before opening the door. Clementine jumps on him, remembering.
Some things have changed and at the same time didn’t.
Seungcheol kneels down, letting her rub herself against him. He pets her to her heart’s content, smiling at her tail wagging at high speed.
“I’m telling you,” Sohyeon is standing in the middle of the room, a bottle in her hand, “eating a girl out is more important than the act of fucking.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth knowing where this is going. He saunters to the only space available next to Vernon, Clementine sits on his feet.
Mingyu looks over at her once and then at Seungcheol. Sohyeon is ranting about female pleasure and how important it is. Mingyu is forced to address the issue, he leans back, an arm behind you, as he agrees with Sohyeon.
You calmly eat your food. Seungcheol plays with Clementine’s ears.
“I agree.” Mingyu says, “it’s essential in order to get more out of the session. Physical session.”
“One of my ex,” Mina hiccups, taking the center stage, “was so awful,” she grimaces, “so awful that he couldn’t find which is which for ten minutes.”
The group oohs in consolation.
“That’s awful.” Vernon nods, “I had a girl once vomit when she was, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed, “giving me some.”
A chorus of nooo echoes.
Mingyu snaps his fingers, jerking forward with new found enthusiasm, “that’s what I am saying. I had a horrible time once, during my college, a girl,” he shudders, “was so yuck it traumatized me to go down. For like my entire life.”
Mixed reactions go off, Clementine too, growling in a low tone. You finally look at Mingyu, curiosity written all over your face. Seungcheol drops his head down, patting Clementine.
He looks back up, and you are watching Clementine, at her closed eyes in ecstasy as Seungcheol scratches her favorite spot, your eyes trails up to his watch, following his veins, and snaps to Sohyeon as she takes back the attention.
“That’s horrible.” Sohyeon points her finger at him. “You could have guided her. The poor girl must be traumatized. You must have done something wrong!”
“I did not.” Mingyu defends with his entire chest. “I have helped her through and through.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, swirling Clementine’s soft ears between his fingers. Something doesn’t add up.
You raise your eyebrow at the lone fry on your plate, scoffing under your breath. Mingyu rearranges himself, sitting straighter and his hand no longer touching you.
Vernon taps your thigh, opening his mouth. You stab your fork onto the last fry and feed him.
“Didn’t you guys ever date? Like inside of the group?” Mingyu asks, staring at Vernon and his hand on your thigh.
Soonyoung rises from the trenches, high and red, “no. This is a sacred group, no love, no lust. I’ll kill anyone who breaks the sanctity.”
You stare at Soonyoung crooning about the essence of friendship and how feelings will ruin everything. His eyes drag up from the v shaped tee you are wearing, too loose that one sleeve of it is in verge of sliding down your shoulder. Seungcheol can’t help but look at the length of your neck, remembering the times he buried himself in the curve. He frowns at the fading mark of a hickey. Right in the place he always leaves one. But it has been three weeks, and his eyes move to the man sitting beside you.
He can’t, no, he doesn’t want to imagine a guy putting his lips on your skin. Leaving a hickey is out of the topic. All he can see is red.
You are unfazed about the passionate speech Soonyoung is giving. Are you really done with him? Did you move on from him? No, if you find someone you always let him know. You didn’t send a single text. But why would you when you ended it already?
Clementine looks up at him. He blinks, coming back to the room and feeling all eyes on him.
“What?”
“Tell me, my friend,” Soonyoung stumbles towards him, holding out the mouth of the beer bottle towards him as a mic, “confess here, the stage is yours.”
Seungcheol gulps, “confess what?”
“Your feelings about fraternizing in close circles.”
Seungcheol looks around, few moved on from Soonyoung’s atrocities, he catches your eye, waiting and how can he answer with you here, when you two did exactly what Soonyoung vehemently said no, what Seungcheol is against too. Jihoon leans in, catching him looking at you. What is with this guy and his intrusive stares as if he knows something? Fuck. If he ever just casually says his suspicions about him and you to Soonyoung, everything goes to hell. Soonyoung can get nasty. And Seungcheol doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it right now. Not when you have a hickey from some man he has no idea of.
“It’s bad.”
“Can’t hear.”
Seungcheol swears under his breath, glaring at his friend, “it’s bad, it ruins the whole group. Fraternizing with someone from the office and close friends destroys everything.”
“Office?” Mingyu frowns, “there’s nothing wrong in getting involved with your coworker, until both of you are amicable about it.”
It ticks off a fuse inside him. Seungcheol continues without realizing, “it is never amicable. There are rules and regulations enforced by HR for a reason. Preposterous to even consider it.”
Mingyu scoffs, “sorry to break it to you, man, but feelings aren’t something that you always have control over. It can happen anywhere and with anyone. Fuck with HR, man.”
Vernon nods beside Seungcheol.
“What about the aftermath? You end things, and then what?”
Mingyu shrugs, “if it’s too much you just change jobs. Big deal.”
“Just like how you blame the girl for—”
“Break it off. Put your big dicks back inside. Don’t ruin the evening.” Mina throws a tissue in peace offering.
Seungcheol doesn’t meet your watchful eyes, he knows you are looking at him. And also why.
His breathing is heavy, and he is back to feeling like a fucking furnace. What’s with today and everyone getting on his nerves?
“Going back to the embarrassing bedroom stories,” Mina pipes up again, stealing glances at Jihoon, “don’t you guys have more? I bet Soonyoung sex life is about embarrassment.”
“A very fuck you.” He grins to himself, “my girl and I are very very very happy. That’s all you get.”
“There was this guy,” you speak up and the entire room silences except for the music playing in the background. Seungcheol gulps. You don’t look at him once, continuing, “we were in the middle of it, and he was checking his messages from his ex.”
Seungcheol’s heart drops to his fucking feet. What are you doing?
Soonyoung turns to you with a scary expression. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Seungcheol licks his lips.
“And he left without saying anything.” You shrug. “That’s my embarrassing story.”
“What?” Vernon squeaks.
“Oh, he left me naked and feeling dirty in my own skin.” You explain, looking at Vernon but not at Seungcheol who is sitting right beside. “I don’t think I can give you more details.”
Vernon’s hand is back on your thigh. “I would never do that to you, babygirl.”
Soonyoung growls. “Vernon.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu softly pats your hair, “that’s the worst thing to happen.”
“Who is that bastard?” Sohyeon is standing right next to Soonyoung carrying the same scary expression. “Tell me who it is, I’ll skin him alive.”
“Some guy.” You shake your head, smiling, “nothing of importance.”
Seungcheol can’t turn his eyes away from you, tasting the betrayal, and not understanding why you did what you did. You turn to him once the room begrudgingly moves on, looking at him as if he really is some guy and of no importance.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, family issues, some violence but not towards people, reader is diabetic, kinda unedited
wc: 7.5k
c's note: :) thank you @choco-scoups for reading over it and telling me it is good. lemme know how you felt reading this chapter!
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Seungcheol’s finger circles on the smooth dial of his watch. The meeting room’s lights reflect off of the silver of the dial as he watches the seconds hand make its round. This one cost him a fortune, the navy color attracted his attention creating a desire to get his hands on it. He did. Another quest done.
The door opens. He minimizes the browser tab of his next quest, a new collection released from his favorite brand. Another quest soon to start. He stands up from his chair, wincing at the squeaking sound it does, welcoming in the new joinees.
A man looms at the door, peeking in, “Mr.Choi?” He enters the room, holding the door open for the second one.
Seungcheol remembers to check for their names in the mail. He has been so out of touch since his schedule has been hectic and demanding, and also there’s you who is still not talking with him and the gnawing regret that always follows the thoughts of you.
He finds the mail chain—Jeonghan, Jieun. Jieun?
Jeonghan naturally takes the chair across from him with a woman occupying the one next to him. Jieun. Seungcheol’s world tilts across the axis, everything falling across the domains he carefully separated and segregated. He never allows one part of his life to collide with others. But life is a bitch. And he is here, standing across from his ex.
She smiles at him, professional and personal intertwined, a knowing smile. Seungcheol clenches his jaw taking his seat, he stares at the mail sitting in his inbox.
The mail has been in his inbox for two days. How can he miss it? If the recruitment was a quick process, that means she might have interviewed after he picked her up from the middle of nowhere. Or was it ongoing by then? How come she didn’t mention it once during the hour long ride.
A perfect ploy.
Seungcheol fists his hand under the table. He must not lose control. Without sparing a single glance at her, he opens the presentation on his laptop. “I know you are already aware of me,” he speaks to Jeonghan, a bit unprofessional not considering her too, but she should have thought about it when she purposefully hid it, “Choi Seungcheol, your team lead, but call me Seungcheol.”
Jeonghan grins, “so no sir?”
Seungcheol’s lips twitch, “no sir.” He clicks on the presentation mode on his laptop, the slides present on the TV that is connected. “Brad should be giving this induction, but an important call has kept him from joining us. I’ll make it as quick as I can. If you guys can briefly introduce yourselves.”
Jeonghan gestures for Jieun to go first. She smiles gratefully at him before turning to Seungcheol. “I’m Jieun. I have heard a lot about this team, especially about your leadership, excited to be working with you.”
“I’m not the manager. Just a team lead.” He clarifies, a bit glad that she didn’t bring in their personal history into this. “Whatever you have heard, it’s all Brad.”
Her eyebrows knit together. He moves on to Jeonghan, waiting for him to speak. The friendly grin slips back onto Jeonghan’s lips, and Seungcheol just knows he is gonna be more than colleagues with him. Just how Soonyoung and he did before Soonyoung moved away.
“Jeonghan. Yoon Jeonghan. Jieun was right, I too, heard a lot about you. The teams don’t talk usually, but everyone did when they knew which project I was joining.” Jeonghan relaxes a bit in his seat, Seungcheol narrows his eyes, suspicious that this new guy is already comfortable. “So there’s that.”
Seungcheol gives a small smile, turning to the slideshow, “shall we get started?”
—
Seungcheol knows that other teams talk about him. Or tries to talk to him. The game goes this way, always, they come up to him, mostly the female coworkers, with a doubt or a workflow process or status update, based on the query he analyses the real motivation behind it.
Not all doubts are professional. Not everyone gets to know him personally. He hates to get involved with someone from the workplace. Or with no friends. He always has an invisible line he follows, building the walls higher, and not letting his dating world mix with his work life or friendships.
And then there is you.
He stands on the wide expanse of the balcony looking over the one end of the city. The sea meets its shore, small ripples as it rushes towards the land. A gloomy sky threatens down on the city, always carrying a threat of rain, hiding the sun behind its crying clouds.
He doesn’t enjoy the rain, the roads get murky and his clothes damp from running from the building to his car and vice versa. This city, a cold city, has been his home ever since he was born here, went to the school, and spent his youth, adulthood, but never once he felt he was home.
“That's one beauty.” Jeonghan steps beside him, looking over the overwhelming blue, and the ships that slowly sail across. “This view is one of the main reasons I wanted to work here.”
Seungcheol pockets his cold hands inside his hoodie. “A view is more important than the growth, and compensation a company offers?”
Jeonghan shrugs, “have you seen the ocean?”
Seungcheol turns to the blue sea. “My entire life.”
Jeonghan laughs, “that’s the problem with you locals.” He rests his arms on the railings, closing his eyes when a gentle breeze brushes past them in a silent greeting. “You don’t realise it’s beauty. Because it’s just there and you never looked for it.”
Seungcheol watches the slow ripples. “It’s a routine you’ll get used to. Give it a month and you’ll be rethinking your decision. Compensation will start looking tempting then.”
Jeonghan laughs, “funny guy.” He straightens up, “let’s put a pin on that. After thirty days let’s discuss it again.”
Seungcheol eyes the male, the underlying challenge and his determined smile. The strong belief that his feelings will not change with time is something that makes Seungcheol laugh. But he doesn’t. He gives a single nod, and looks back at the sea.
The same green ship he looked ever since he can start forming memories sails in its pursuit to the other end of the land.
Things tend to get boring. And Seungcheol knows it firsthand.
—
The office hours aren’t over yet. Two more fucking hours to be spent in this godawful pretentious office before he can go back to his lonely abode. The work is sitting right across him, on the screen, waiting for him to complete it. Seungcheol’s on his phone, yet again.
Social media is a weird place. He didn’t always associate himself with the happenings of almost strangers—his friends aka followers—life, or specifically go look for them. It sort of happened. Just how Soonyoung came into his life, eventually you did and he somehow found himself erasing the number one rule he set on himself, well, maybe second. The first being not interacting with his family for more than three hours. Something about mental health and not falling into a pit hole called depression or melancholy.
Second being not fucking his friend. Or having any sort of physical relationships with someone close.
Seungcheol closes his eyes, his jaw flexing as the memories of the night that started it all flashes before him. He sits up in his chair, unbuttoning the collar and watches the blank computer screen in front of him. He drops the phone on the desk, clicking his mouse and invests himself in the work. He will do anything to escape from the vice grip that night holds on him.
Two minutes in, and he is already reaching for his phone, unlocking it. There it is, your profile, ready for his hundredth exploration since that impromptu meeting on Saturday, and his self-inflicted break from you. In the middle of the night, during a monotone meeting, right after shutting his alarm in the morning, and during his break hour, he swiftly checks on the posts or stories you have posted, if there’s none, he scrolls down to see your older posts.
Some might call him a stalker. But no one knows him, so he is still plain Seungcheol for everyone.
You have added a new story. Seungcheol clicks on it, a poem.
I waited for so long for love
and suddenly, here it is
standing in the garden, hands full
of heirlooms hot from the sun.
Soon we’ll make a supper of them.
Salted slabs between slices of bread.
Your bread silvers. My hips ripen.
The mail piles up.
Phone calls go unanswered. Forgive us.
Our mouths are full of tomatoes.
We are so busy
being small and hungry and alive.
Tomatoes
Joy Sullivan
Seungcheol sets the phone on the white desk, looming over it rereading the lines again. What does this actually mean? He remembers the piles of books he found everywhere in your home, a book always lying around on the desk, corners of the couch, in the kitchen, and your bedroom is a temple of books. And he barely passed his lit course in school.
The story moves to some person’s highlight of their lives. Seungcheol goes back to your story, now a new comment added to it.
soo you want me to bring you some tomatoes?
Seungcheol sits back in his chair, humming in thought. Are you out of groceries just like Soonyoung suggested? The story has already moved on to several peoples’. Seungcheol grunts, going back to your profile and opening your story again. Now only your story will be played or the app takes back to your profile once the thirty second display is done. He would rather sit and stare at Clementine on your profile picture than some random food pictures or men diving or women laughing over drinks.
Vernon adds another comment.
here you dropped this
It’s an emoji of brain. And then the group is sending tomato emoji.
why did i even post this
And the story is deleted.
You are not out of your groceries then? He refreshes your page, just in case you posted anything new. None. So he scrolls through your page, pausing over Clementine pictures and opening a few poetry posts. Not one picture of you.
He opens Soonyoung’s profile, scrolling down, pausing his thumb right where the carousel of the pictures are. He is quick in swiping past the first three photos, and there you are, captured between your unrestricted laugh.
Seungcheol’s shoulders slouches down, he zooms in on your smile, and the crinkle at the end of your eyes he knows that will be there, and just, the whole existence of you, he stares at it for a long moment.
“What are you smiling at?”
He is quick to lock his phone before Jieun can peek into it. He squares his shoulders, his defences taking their positions, and his irritation meter spiking to the red.
“What do you want?”
Jieun stares at his phone, and then at him, “with some less venom in your words will be a good starting point of what I need from you.”
Before his irritation meter can break, he excuses himself and leaves to the coffee room. Jieun follows him, her flowery scent filling the room. He rubs his itchy nose with the back of his hand, checking the time on the wall clock. Only thirty minutes have passed.
“Seungcheol, I know you are angry,” she shoves herself between the coffee machine and him, he sneezes into his elbow, taking a few steps back, “but please, listen to me, I didn’t know they’ll put me into your team.”
“They did,” he grits his teeth, reaching out for tissues, “in the end, didn’t they?”
“It’s not my fault.” She points out. “I have the freedom to work wherever I want.”
Seungcheol is glad this section of the office is empty. “Lower your voice. Please.” He maintains a respectful space between them. “You have the freedom, of course, you do. Didn’t you think of informing me once? The entire two hours drive you kept on updating about your life, even updated about the receptionist in your damn apartment but not once you are interviewing here or anything.”
Jieun looks lost for words. It all comes back to him, the time he was involved with her, the moments he held onto just because he wanted to try and be a better person, a relationship kind of guy.
“You know how I feel getting involved with someone at work. Crossing boundaries.” The words bite back his own skin, the nights he spent in your bed, the laughs, the mistakes, haunts him and Seungcheol feels restless. His rash decisions will eat him one day. He knows this. “We are not in a relationship anyway,” he trashes the crumpled tissue, seemingly done with everything, “and I want to keep our history in a closed book. I want us to be professional in and out of the office. So please stop searching for me if it’s not for work.”
Seungcheol exits the room without a second thought or a glance.
—
The week doesn’t get any better. It only pummels him down to the ground. The mansion, his parents’ house, awaits in front of him. The same smell of grass, the housekeepers moving about their day breaking their backs for his mom and the need to satisfy her. He knows the feeling. He lived in this house for twenty years. And he could only breathe normally outside those damn huge gates.
He exits his car, nodding his head to the same man, Mr. Jung, who has been in charge of the house ever since his childhood. The elder man only returns a gentle smile that is always present on his face whenever he sees him. Seungcheol ascend the small steps, reaching the door, his reflection staring back at him on the glass mirror. He averts his eyes from his face, opening the door and bracing himself as if he is entering a war.
Today marks thirty-third wedding anniversary of his parents. A celebration. The house is big, spacious with minimal furniture and decor pieces his mom carefully collected and designed. Beige and brown. A color combination he came to hate from seeing it everywhere for twenty years.
The click of his shoes resounds the high ceilings, he sets the present on the coffee table before he goes to the dining hall. He checks the time on his watch, six in the evening, and he has two hours and fifty minutes more. After that he has to escape from here. In the three hours, he has to keep a good grip over his anger. It’s not worth the cold treatment that encompasses him the weeks after. He is tired from work and life as it is. He doesn’t need to add more to it.
The dining hall is sparkling under the chandelier hanging over the table. Korean cuisine spread over the long table, the dark orange soups, the sizzling meat, and the steam from the hot food has his stomach grumbling. He remembers that he didn’t eat a single meal the entire day, too cooped up in his work.
He shrugs off his jacket, a butler steps in accepting it from him, and disappears into one of the many rooms. Seungcheol stands in the middle of the huge hall where he spent hours sitting alone during his school. The corner chair at the end of the table he always sat stared back at him. The books he spread over waiting for his parents or brother to come home, talk or play with him. The adult Seungcheol scoffs at his own innocence. Talk or play? They barely know which year he is in.
Seungcheol moves to the kitchen, nodding to the greetings from the cooks and maids, he calmly cleans his hands, accepts a hand towel from a maid and exits back to the dining table. He drags the chair at the corner end, making himself comfortable. He had twenty years of experience in experimenting with the right angle to sit so he can get cozy in this huge open house.
“Mr. and Mrs. Choi are stuck in traffic, they’ll be here soon, young master.” Mr.Jung announces. “Shall I serve some snacks in the meantime?”
Seungcheol gives a tight smile, “I’m not a child, Mr. Jung. It’s fine, I’ll wait for them.”
A sad upturn of smile on Mr. Jung’s face has Seungcheol to turn his face away to the phone in his hands. No matter how many years pass, no matter how old he gets, this house never fails in making him feel what ten years old Seungcheol felt. As if he will always be the ten year old boy here, waiting, longing, push-over.
“Sure, sir.” Mr. Jung bows, his old bones cracking, “Your brother is already here. He will join you in ten minutes.”
Mr. Jung leaves Seungcheol to his own devices before Seungcheol can ask him about his health or family. Regret sits on the tip of his tongue watching the slouched back of the old man who made sure to never leave him alone. He hates this house, always for making him feel things he runs away from.
He unlocks his phone, opens the social media, and quick to search for your profile. No new stories or posts. Not even a capture of Clementine on her walk. He scrolls down, opening a compilation of poems. Something about oranges or clementines or tangerines.
Why are you always posting about fruits and vegetables? You always push away them while eating. He doesn’t understand the meaning behind the simple words that sit in those poems, always going over his head and it’s not like he has someone to teach the essence of the words and the feelings they carry to the heart.
A chair scrapes across the shiny white marble floor. Seungcheol grips his phone, not looking up at the person who joined him. His brother too doesn’t acknowledge Seungcheol’s presence. Nothing ever changes in this house.
He exits your profile unable to invest too much of his brain to decipher the poems he read time and time. Sohyeon has a story up, and Mina too. His stomach gives a familiar lurch. They met. And Seungcheol didn’t know. Again.
It’s a blurry image of cards, snacks. Mina posted a short video, the laughter and music and loud voices blasts out of his phone to this silent house, he exits the story in a heartbeat. He locks the phone, clasps his hands and stares at the ceiling, the lights flicker beautifully. A hollow feeling blankets him.
Footsteps echo. Seungcheol snaps out, his eyes struggling to adjust after watching the bright lights for god knows how long. His parents are already pulling their chairs and sitting. His father at the head of the table, and his mom leaves the two empty chairs and sits in the middle.
“The traffic was long.” His father grunts, already irritated and angry. “Why didn’t you start? Why do you think the food is already served?”
The maids rush to serve food. Seungcheol leans back in his chair, letting them do their work. Once the food is served, his family begins eating in silence except for the sounds from chopsticks and the bowls. He devours the food, realising he is starving.
“Stop inhaling your food.” His mother scolds, “where are your manners? That’s why I don’t want you kids to live on your own. Manners picked up from who knows what places. Your father doesn’t understand the concept as he himself lacks a few.”
Seungcheol shuts his eyes. It’s starting. He slows down chewing, sitting straighter and holding the cutlery in a proper way.
“What do you mean?” His father barks out, dropping the spoon into his bowl of soup, the orange liquid splattering all over the place. “Watch your mouth.”
Seungcheol scoops more rice into his empty bowl.
“Boys learn from their father.” His mother doesn’t back down, snapping her finger at a maid to clean the mess. “Isn’t that why he is living with that,” she shuts her mouth in disgust to even say her name, “vile woman?”
Seungcheol’s brother slams his chopsticks down, his hand accidentally hitting the bowl of rice, sending it toppling on the floor. “Respect. Speak of her with respect.”
His mother crosses her arms, sending a pointed look at her husband. Like father, like son.
Seungcheol stares at the empty bowl of rice, when did he even eat it? A maid helps him in getting more rice, while the other moves silently cleaning the mess. He wonders who will clean the mess of this family.
His father thunders, “what are you insinuating?”
“If only you didn’t fuck that young secretary of yours, your children wouldn’t have learned to seek the same!”
And just like that Seungcheol transports back to that evening. He came home early ditching his classes. The maids were tense and in a hurry to get him into his room. Mr. Jung, determined to lead him to his bed under the ruse of his new gaming CD has arrived.
He heard a sound he never heard in his lifetime. His father is laughing and coddling a young woman. A happiness he never saw written all over his father’s face. He looked young next to her, a woman who is not his mother.
“More rice, young master.” The maid sets the bowl, scurrying back to the kitchen.
Seungcheol looks over at his father who is stricken by the words. Their eyes met for a brief second, his father saw him that evening, and he remembers the same now.
His father turns away, spitting the words, “you never change.”
He leaves the table. The silence is back again. Seungcheol looks at his half empty plate and bowl. Suddenly feeling so full that he will vomit at the idea or sight of food. He turns to Mr. Jung standing in a corner who nods in return.
Maids clear his plates. He sits there, waiting for his family to be done. His brother eats his food, stuffing his face. His mother is delicate about it, taking her time to eat, never leaving her manners even if there’s an empty chair at the head of the table. Her wedding ring sparkles under the chandelier lights.
Seungcheol is glad that his finger is empty.
“Break up with her.” His mother addresses his elder son. “She is no good news.”
The reply is throwing the plate to the ground and also a loud slam of the chair falling to the floor as he leaves. With no second thoughts or second glance.
His mother continues to eat, grabbing a piece of kimchi and putting it on top of her flavoured rice. She looks small, her hand shaking as she brings the spoon to her mouth. The unshed tears also sparkle like the diamond on her finger.
Seungcheol swallows. He sits there until she completes her dinner.
—
The TV screen illuminates the dark apartment. The sport commentary fills the silence. Seungcheol follows the players, the game between two teams whom he isn’t rooting for. It’s Thursday, and he has absolutely nothing to do.
He folds his legs, sitting cross-legged and lies down on the couch, then flips to his side and then angles his neck, he sits up, giving up. Can he get any more listless?
The commentators whoops as one of the player scores. Seungcheol flips the channel to some old movies, two minutes into the movie he exits and opens a streaming service. He plays a random movie knowing well enough that he isn’t gonna stick to it either.
The routine starts again. He sits cross-legged, leans back and then lies down and before he can angle his neck properly his phone starts vibrating on the coffee table.
He answers in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Clementine is asking for you.” Soonyoung screams on the other end. “Uh, and also bring beer. She needs to have a drink. Bye.”
Someone scoffs on his side and the line cuts. Seungcheol stares at his phone, blinking once, twice, and he is reaching for his keys, turning off the TV.
—
Three weeks. It has been three fucking long weeks since he last saw you—in person, not on someone else’s stories. His self inflicted break from you has not helped in any sense, rather his screen time has grown and he learned new words like Hamartia.
Seungcheol sets the case of beers on the table alongside the food. The apartment is crowded, rowdier and hosting new people. He leans against the table, unzipping his hoodie watching the two new men sitting on the couch. Clementine stuck to one of them, the tallest one.
Three weeks and she has forgotten about him. He balls the hoodie, moving across the living room and opens the closet, shoving it in. If a dog, dubbed as the loyal creature on this planet, can move on from him, he can’t dare to think about what you are feeling.
He moves across the room, occupying one of the idle chairs, looking around the apartment. It is still the same, the books are everywhere, throw blankets overflowing and food scent wafting through. If he is to slide his hand underneath this chair he bets his entire worth that he will find a book.
“Soonyoung, get the fuck out!” Your shrill scream from the kitchen breaks the serenity in the room, everyone pausing to look at the kitchen. “Hands off. Did you even wash? I’ll kill you, let’s end this today.”
Just like that everyone moves on. Nothing has changed. Seungcheol smiles to himself at you screaming at Soonyoung, the agitation only he can bring out of you.
“Don’t we have to help her?” The giant asks Vernon. “I think she needs help. Clementine baby, let me go pacify your mom before she pulls out her friend’s head, okay baby?” He carefully sets her head on the couch, giving a few rubs before running towards the kitchen.
Seungcheol stares at his clasped hands. What?
Sohyeon and Mina giggles among themselves, checking over the kitchen, apparently the most happening spot tonight, and giggles some more.
Seungcheol frowns, the long strands of his hair poking into his eyes, he brushes them away, only to fall back on his eyes. He leans back, glaring at the kitchen that now houses laughter, laughter from you.
“I never heard her that happy.” Mina sighs, dreamily, “she found her happiness. Finally.”
What?
The glasses guy, somehow familiar yet Seungcheol can’t pin a name to his face, is watching him. The frown deepens on Seungcheol’s face, not understanding what is going on here. Why are everyone acting out of their character?
Soonyoung saunters into the living room, claiming the giant’s seat. He pokes the glasses guy, a sense of familiarity already evident in their bond.
“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? That junior she mentioned.” Sohyeon sets her mug on the coffee table, “something about him not being an eater.”
Dread descents upon Seungcheol’s shoulders. He remembers the girls talking about a guy from your office. The one who has a crush on you. Mingyu.
Seungcheol’s body is warm, hot even. The room presses on him, a white flare of light pounding his head. He reaches for the stray beer bottle, stops remembering there are new faces and he isn’t buddy enough with them to drink from their bottles.
He surveys the area for a familiar pink imprint. None. He raises from the couch, sauntering towards the beer case, pulling out one. The music is low, some rap song he never listened to or heard playing in this household. This apartment only entertains slow steady songs, or bright songs like hey, jude. It’s been so long since he heard that song play, he should be happy that he didn’t get to hear it because if you are choosing that one it only means you are in deep shit.
Seungcheol doesn’t want that for you.
He rests his hip against the table, sipping on the semi cold drink. The nutty flavor of it doesn’t satiate his palate but this drink is his true friend for the night. Since everyone seems to forget his presence with the arrival of new shiny things.
“Jihoon, is he really dating that junior?” Mina prods the glasses guy.
Jihoon who can’t stop staring at him, finally with one slow drag of his eyes across Seungcheol’s stance, addresses the question. “Not dating. More like fucking I think.”
Sohyeon grimaces. “Crass.”
“No wonder Soonyoung likes you.” Mina gives a disgusting look at him. “What do you mean fucking? Are there no feelings involved? I don’t think a person like him is good for our sweet girl.”
“What makes you think our sweet girl isn’t involved in some frivolous activities herself?” Jihoon quirk his eyebrow.
Seungcheol swears he looked at him, as if accusing to be the partner in the sinful activity. Who the fuck is this guy? He vaguely remembers meeting him in some of the parties. Does he know anything that has been happening in the confines of these walls? Did you talk to him?
“She would never.” Sohyeon is so quick in her defence as if repulsed by the mere suggestion that Seungcheol turns away from the group. “She is too precious to do some vile actions.”
Vernon chimes in, “calm down, darlin’, she ain’t doing a sin even if she gets involved in some action.”
“Agree.” Jihoon adds.
“That’s not the point here.” Mina breaks in, “Mingyu makes her smile and laugh, she relaxes in his presence. Like they are someone that is meant to be together.”
“You got all this from one meeting?”
The disbelief and incredible look from Vernon has Mina’s cheeks pink. Jihoon pats her hand in consolation. Seungcheol raises his eyebrow at the gesture.
“I mean look at them,” Mina justifies, “she didn’t even, or like, have been human for the last three weeks. Her mother visited, for god’s sake, you know how it throws her off. Soonyoung couldn’t handle the aftermath, and now she is laughing. Just because of Mingyu.”
The bottle slips a little from Seungcheol’s hand, he catches it in time and swears under his breath. He sets the bottle on the table, tapping his fingers. Fuck. Your mom visited? And he wasn’t there. What a damn prick he is.
“Shh, shh, they are coming,” Sohyeon warns the group, “so what do you think about this song?”
Seungcheol holds his breath, shadows of three people emerging from the kitchen. He chews on his lip, biting it in contemplation, it’s been three weeks, three long weeks, and you are finally in the same vicinity as him. He tastes blood on his tongue, he taps his finger on the flat surface, tilting his head watching you over his shoulder.
His breath catches in his throat. You look worse. He turns towards the group, taking you in completely. Sunken eyes. The adorable swell of your cheeks are no more. And you look weak.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Seungcheol gets restless, rubbing his chin, calculating how he can get you alone. Will you let him take you away? After what has gone down between you two. You called it off that night. You did. Seungcheol heard it, but he won’t let it hinder him. It is not over until he is done. And he is not done.
You set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Clementine jumps off the couch, lazily, swirling around your legs. You rub behind her ears in greeting, your eyes moving across the room, checking the shoes at the entrance, a jerk in your body, frantically looking across the couch and makeshift couch, and you straighten up at the hand on your waist. Mingyu pats Clementine along with you.
Seungcheol taps his foot on the wooden floor, cracking his neck. Bloody red infiltrates his vision for a brief moment. You step away from him with a friendly smile letting him have Clementine all to himself. And you converse with Mina something about popcorn or the caramel, you are excusing yourself, moving towards where he is.
Your eyes land on him, a singular sweep from his crossed legs at ankles, the laidback form—his hips resting on the table, the gentle hold on the bottle he didn’t know when he picked up, the same mockery disbelief twitch of your lips seeing his watch, and then slow drag from his chest to his lips to his eyes. Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat.
You stand next to him, arranging and rearranging the tissues, plates without a single greeting or acknowledgement. Yet Seungcheol, ever the pessimist and disbeliever in coincidences and fate, feels that you missed him. He can’t bring out proofs and receipts, relying on just the connection that he has with you. He just knows it.
Some things have changed, for good, he hopes.
He helps you in scooping food onto your plate. “How are your levels?”
You pause getting more salad, looking at him, eyes widened at the question. Seungcheol resists the urge to lean in closer to you, the subtle scent of soft cocoa of your body lotion luring him into the dangerous territories. He settles for squeezing ranch onto your plate.
You scoff, slapping his hand away. “They are good. And none of your concern.”
Some things didn’t change. You are still angry with him. Rightfully, so.
The list of questions on the tip of his tongue dies down. It’s been so long and you look so vulnerable, and he has so many questions. Starting with your mom and why you didn’t tell him. You always seek him out after the visits. He was always there helping you not to tip over to the darkside.
Done with plating food, you turn away, slowly, your arm brushing against his, your eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second at the contact. Seungcheol grips the ranch bottle, he knows that expression. He has seen that countless times. You do miss him.
“Hey,” Mingyu is behind you, holding the plate for you, “do you need anything else?”
The ranch squeezes out splattering across the food spread, his black tee and on Seungcheol’s face. He drops the bottle, reaching for tissues with his good hand, and dabs his shirt. The white mark just worsens.
“Fuck.” He swears, he just splurged on this shirt recently. Can at least one day go peacefully?
Soonyoung reaches out to a fry, “oh,” he dabs it in the ranch on Seungcheol’s hand, and bites onto it. “Salty.”
Will he go to jail when he beats the shit out of his close friend? Does bearing him for five years is enough reason to not go to jail after breaking his bones?
Soonyoung hums his way back to annoy Clementine by grabbing her tail. Seungcheol notices you sitting next to Mingyu with him swiping food from your plate.
The glasses guy, Jihoon, tilts his head at Seungcheol, frowning. Seungcheol throws the bottle on the table, disappearing into your room and into the bathroom.
He splashes the water onto his face, the coldness of it helps in regulating the heat radiating out of him. Why is he burning up? It’s not even summer yet. He plucks out a nearly folded towel and dabs his face.
Questions sprout inside his head. He exits the bathroom, stands in your room, the simmering heat inside him cools down. He strides towards the bed and sits on it.
Warmth spreads across him as if the room realises that he is here, welcoming him back into the secret they carry. He plucks out the book fallen onto the ground. There are pages and pages of words he can’t sit and read, two minutes in he is closing the book.
He runs his finger down the spine of the book, wondering, how much longer he has permission to be in this room, in this world they created. The atmosphere in the living room suggests that he doesn’t have much, maybe already lost it, and he is holding onto the ends of the thread.
He shouldn’t have picked up his phone that night. He shouldn’t have rushed out in worry. He should have let Jieun be stranded in a dark place, she is an adult, she could have navigated it. Fuck, he can’t live with himself knowing he left a girl in need of help. At that point of time, the safety of a woman took precedence over him having a good time.
He should have learnt to articulate the scene better, made you comfortable before leaving, reassuring and promising. Seungcheol isn’t that man, at least not at that time, learning as he grows.
He sees a shadow circling outside the door. His time is up here. He sets the book back on the nightstand. He looks around the room one last time before opening the door. Clementine jumps on him, remembering.
Some things have changed and at the same time didn’t.
Seungcheol kneels down, letting her rub herself against him. He pets her to her heart’s content, smiling at her tail wagging at high speed.
“I’m telling you,” Sohyeon is standing in the middle of the room, a bottle in her hand, “eating a girl out is more important than the act of fucking.”
Seungcheol grits his teeth knowing where this is going. He saunters to the only space available next to Vernon, Clementine sits on his feet.
Mingyu looks over at her once and then at Seungcheol. Sohyeon is ranting about female pleasure and how important it is. Mingyu is forced to address the issue, he leans back, an arm behind you, as he agrees with Sohyeon.
You calmly eat your food. Seungcheol plays with Clementine’s ears.
“I agree.” Mingyu says, “it’s essential in order to get more out of the session. Physical session.”
“One of my ex,” Mina hiccups, taking the center stage, “was so awful,” she grimaces, “so awful that he couldn’t find which is which for ten minutes.”
The group oohs in consolation.
“That’s awful.” Vernon nods, “I had a girl once vomit when she was, you know,” he rubs the back of his neck, almost embarrassed, “giving me some.”
A chorus of nooo echoes.
Mingyu snaps his fingers, jerking forward with new found enthusiasm, “that’s what I am saying. I had a horrible time once, during my college, a girl,” he shudders, “was so yuck it traumatized me to go down. For like my entire life.”
Mixed reactions go off, Clementine too, growling in a low tone. You finally look at Mingyu, curiosity written all over your face. Seungcheol drops his head down, patting Clementine.
He looks back up, and you are watching Clementine, at her closed eyes in ecstasy as Seungcheol scratches her favorite spot, your eyes trails up to his watch, following his veins, and snaps to Sohyeon as she takes back the attention.
“That’s horrible.” Sohyeon points her finger at him. “You could have guided her. The poor girl must be traumatized. You must have done something wrong!”
“I did not.” Mingyu defends with his entire chest. “I have helped her through and through.”
Seungcheol narrows his eyes, swirling Clementine’s soft ears between his fingers. Something doesn’t add up.
You raise your eyebrow at the lone fry on your plate, scoffing under your breath. Mingyu rearranges himself, sitting straighter and his hand no longer touching you.
Vernon taps your thigh, opening his mouth. You stab your fork onto the last fry and feed him.
“Didn’t you guys ever date? Like inside of the group?” Mingyu asks, staring at Vernon and his hand on your thigh.
Soonyoung rises from the trenches, high and red, “no. This is a sacred group, no love, no lust. I’ll kill anyone who breaks the sanctity.”
You stare at Soonyoung crooning about the essence of friendship and how feelings will ruin everything. His eyes drag up from the v shaped tee you are wearing, too loose that one sleeve of it is in verge of sliding down your shoulder. Seungcheol can’t help but look at the length of your neck, remembering the times he buried himself in the curve. He frowns at the fading mark of a hickey. Right in the place he always leaves one. But it has been three weeks, and his eyes move to the man sitting beside you.
He can’t, no, he doesn’t want to imagine a guy putting his lips on your skin. Leaving a hickey is out of the topic. All he can see is red.
You are unfazed about the passionate speech Soonyoung is giving. Are you really done with him? Did you move on from him? No, if you find someone you always let him know. You didn’t send a single text. But why would you when you ended it already?
Clementine looks up at him. He blinks, coming back to the room and feeling all eyes on him.
“What?”
“Tell me, my friend,” Soonyoung stumbles towards him, holding out the mouth of the beer bottle towards him as a mic, “confess here, the stage is yours.”
Seungcheol gulps, “confess what?”
“Your feelings about fraternizing in close circles.”
Seungcheol looks around, few moved on from Soonyoung’s atrocities, he catches your eye, waiting and how can he answer with you here, when you two did exactly what Soonyoung vehemently said no, what Seungcheol is against too. Jihoon leans in, catching him looking at you. What is with this guy and his intrusive stares as if he knows something? Fuck. If he ever just casually says his suspicions about him and you to Soonyoung, everything goes to hell. Soonyoung can get nasty. And Seungcheol doesn’t have the bandwidth to deal with it right now. Not when you have a hickey from some man he has no idea of.
“It’s bad.”
“Can’t hear.”
Seungcheol swears under his breath, glaring at his friend, “it’s bad, it ruins the whole group. Fraternizing with someone from the office and close friends destroys everything.”
“Office?” Mingyu frowns, “there’s nothing wrong in getting involved with your coworker, until both of you are amicable about it.”
It ticks off a fuse inside him. Seungcheol continues without realizing, “it is never amicable. There are rules and regulations enforced by HR for a reason. Preposterous to even consider it.”
Mingyu scoffs, “sorry to break it to you, man, but feelings aren’t something that you always have control over. It can happen anywhere and with anyone. Fuck with HR, man.”
Vernon nods beside Seungcheol.
“What about the aftermath? You end things, and then what?”
Mingyu shrugs, “if it’s too much you just change jobs. Big deal.”
“Just like how you blame the girl for—”
“Break it off. Put your big dicks back inside. Don’t ruin the evening.” Mina throws a tissue in peace offering.
Seungcheol doesn’t meet your watchful eyes, he knows you are looking at him. And also why.
His breathing is heavy, and he is back to feeling like a fucking furnace. What’s with today and everyone getting on his nerves?
“Going back to the embarrassing bedroom stories,” Mina pipes up again, stealing glances at Jihoon, “don’t you guys have more? I bet Soonyoung sex life is about embarrassment.”
“A very fuck you.” He grins to himself, “my girl and I are very very very happy. That’s all you get.”
“There was this guy,” you speak up and the entire room silences except for the music playing in the background. Seungcheol gulps. You don’t look at him once, continuing, “we were in the middle of it, and he was checking his messages from his ex.”
Seungcheol’s heart drops to his fucking feet. What are you doing?
Soonyoung turns to you with a scary expression. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Seungcheol licks his lips.
“And he left without saying anything.” You shrug. “That’s my embarrassing story.”
“What?” Vernon squeaks.
“Oh, he left me naked and feeling dirty in my own skin.” You explain, looking at Vernon but not at Seungcheol who is sitting right beside. “I don’t think I can give you more details.”
Vernon’s hand is back on your thigh. “I would never do that to you, babygirl.”
Soonyoung growls. “Vernon.”
“I’m sorry,” Mingyu softly pats your hair, “that’s the worst thing to happen.”
“Who is that bastard?” Sohyeon is standing right next to Soonyoung carrying the same scary expression. “Tell me who it is, I’ll skin him alive.”
“Some guy.” You shake your head, smiling, “nothing of importance.”
Seungcheol can’t turn his eyes away from you, tasting the betrayal, and not understanding why you did what you did. You turn to him once the room begrudgingly moves on, looking at him as if he really is some guy and of no importance.
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: MDNI, this is unedited, swearing, mentions of bullying, for a brief moment reader goes into kind of a anxiety attack kinda thing, vernon kinda lacks of emotional intelligence or basic mannerisms (???), daddy kink, dominant cheol, also kinda asshole cheol, reader is diabetic (reader kinda doesn't care about her health for a brief moment; not recommended irl but people can't always be in control so :))
wc: 5.6k
c's note: :) so i think now youll understand why i was adamant on getting the last scene right. its important and for good reading experience when it is last scene (you'll know) play neon moon by cas throughout it. please let me know your thoughts now ehehehehehe and thank you for your sweet comments on last one i cherish them with my heart
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles, mirrorball by taylor swift, neon moon by cigarettes after sex
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Avoiding your obligations is much easier than facing them. How you gave zero input on Soonyoung’s date ideas, locations and outfits. Screened calls from Sohyeon and sent a vague message after hours, and how you skipped a movie night with Vernon. He needed his fellow movie critic, and you were busy moping around.
Today’s Saturday. Everyone’s busy on Saturdays' and you have Clementine to occupy your mind and schedule. Started with her half sitting on you, and bugging you until you take her out, on a long walk. You can’t screen her, or leave her hanging, and as you walk along the lines of the pier, watching the seagulls flying over, and the slow ripples of water flowing, you realize this is what you exactly needed. And Clementine is somehow your guiding light in the darkness you are stuck in.
You settle on one of the lounge chairs, overseeing the mountain tops that are barely visible from how cloudy the sky is. The soft breeze helps you in loosening your stiff shoulders, and you lean back watching the ships sail. Seungcheol didn’t reach out to you again. Why would he when you have informed him that whatever benefits, perks, between you two have ended.
You trace the bruise on your neck, blooming in maroon. He didn’t get back with Jieun? If he met her after their break-up (that’s what he calls it) means they have got back together. Whatever see-saw kinda relationship they have. You didn’t care for the details until it started affecting you. What did Sohyeon comment on their dynamic? You wrack your brain trying to remember. None.
Clementine lays her chin on your lap, closing her eyes, enjoying the outside time. You smile down at her, playing with her ears. There’s no need for you to sit on Seungcheol’s relationship—you are done. You have to move past and think about something else. Something that doesn’t twirl around eyes that resembles bright bobas, and grunts that accompany you everywhere you go and whatever you do.
Fuck it. You will miss him. His hands, his tongue and everything about him. The warmth from his body, the weight of him over you, and that fucking chain that always dangles like it’s teasing you. Just like him.
You will miss the way he grunts or hums whenever you call him daddy. The way he answers you in his own inhuman ways, not words but grunts and sounds.
The moments with him had you flying, but no matter how high you fly, the fall will be equally brutal. He doesn’t really look at you like how you look at him. Reverence or basic respect.
You pick out the lint on your pants. Clementine looks up at you listening to your shaky breath. If only he chose you, or remembered your presence, naked and waiting, and vulnerable. Not like an afterthought. You don’t want to be an afterthought.
“The wind feels nice.” Soonyoung stands next to you, hands on his waist as he squints towards the mountains. “Always feels like reachable but quite not.” He reaches out as if plucking out a mountain but only looks like an idiot playing in the air. “Scoot over.”
Your heart lurches to your throat, beating fucking hard. Why is he here? What’s with everyone and their sudden unannounced appearances? Did he send a text? How did he know where you are?
You gasp, accusing “stalker.”
He pushes your body to the side, making space for himself, given it’s a two person lounge chair. Clementine wags her tail, licking his hands as he greets her.
You glare at him, waiting for an answer or an explanation. He makes himself comfortable, groaning and moaning, he rests his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes. Basking in the air. The audacity of this man.
“Excuse me, gentleman, you have an explanation to give.” You poke his ribs.
“And you? A goddamn essay to write on your disappearance.” He peaks an eye open, “or busy work as you quote.”
You move a little, making yourself some space and shoving Soonyoung off of you. “I was—am busy.” You avoid his eyes, “The work was,” you gesture in the empty air, “hectic. Rob had these meetings and I am in need of that promotion. Clementine is having needs, and I have to afford them. The pet insurance alone is costing me a fortune. So I have to work late nights to get what I need.”
“Mmmh-hmm,” Soonyoung nods, listening seriously, “go on, tell me more.” He crosses his feet at ankles, “now tell me how scared you are to be homeless.”
Fuck.
“You need to learn how to lie, my precious naive child.” Soonyoung turns to Clementine, “your mom is a terrible liar, isn’t she?”
You wiggle down lower in the chair, pouting at being caught. It should have worked, half of your non-sense is true, or quarter of it. “How did you know I am here?”
He chuckles at your snippy attitude. “You always come here. Sit and reflect on your life.” He arches an eyebrow, “are you a heroine from the 20’s?”
You shove him in the ribs. And he adds, “and I have your location.”
You gasp, sitting straighter. “What the fuck?! Soonyoung! You stalker. Stop it. How did you—no—when did you?” You hit his shoulder repeatedly. “Why would you even need it?”
He pushes your hands down, screaming, “that hurts! Stop! Stop! Okay, okay,” he grins at your panting, and the ruffled mood. “Wow, so, you do get worked up.”
You shoot daggers at him. He laughs, his boyish, no, childish laugh like he always did after teasing and irritating the heck out of you. You lean back, resting on the wooden chair, closing your eyes, calming yourself before you throw him into the sea or feed him to the seagulls.
“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”
“Men and their half assed apologies.” You grumble. “Go fuck yourself.”
“What can I do?” Soonyoung cries, “I got to do what I could. You drop out of the earth sometimes, no one knows what’s going on, and what’s happening. I am not sure about you, but I certainly can’t leave my friends when they are suffering.” You open your mouth to deny it, and he cuts you off, “and I know you are. So shut the fuck please.”
You remain silent. He isn’t wrong. He knows you like the back of his hand, and can read your moods just from a look of your face. It has been that easy for him, ever since he found you in the almost empty classroom, getting picked on by the boys, laughing at you while you cry.
“How many times do I have to tell you,” his voice gets softer, losing himself to the same memories you are thinking about, “please, find me, whenever something plagues you, come find me. Don’t sit by yourself. I’m here to help.”
You fiddle with the leash, wrapping it around your fingers, trying your best to not cry out in broad daylight. It’s a good day to not cry.
The chatter from others fills the silence between you two. People saunter leisurely standing over the ledge seeing through the tranquil waters and the ships reaching docks.
“What’s wrong?” Soonyoung pushes knowing you won’t talk about it on your own. “Did your dad call?” You shake your head. “Don’t tell me your mom finally got time.”
You chuckle at his incredulous tone. “No. They are away, doing whatever they were doing.” And the loneliness you keep at bay, creeps in, slowly. You exhale, sitting straighter, “the mountains are pretty today.”
Soonyoung presses his lips in a thin line. He doesn’t press too hard. As close he is to you, he knows his limits. You’ll come around, open up to him and talk about whatever that’s bothering your mind. Not this time. Not about Seungcheol. First, he will skin you alive for fraternising within the friendship group. A sacred circle that’s never meant to be tainted. Second, you are mortified. Mortified beyond words.
How are you gonna put one word after another in a sentence saying, you are sleeping with Seungcheol, the resident heartbreaker, who can’t be in a relationship for more than three months at a stretch. You are seeking warmth from him, in the broken pieces he provides, the sharp edges of it piercing you every time he leaves.
And, how can you say, he got a call, you swear he is enjoying it, he was praising your efforts—the best efforts you ever poured into a man, and then he got a call, Soonyoung, he got a call, he did ignore it but they kept coming in, and… and he forgot about you. The resident heartbreaker strikes again. And you never learn. The words are too raw to be cut open out of your heart in the broad daylight.
So, you switch. Going back into your childhood, the lonely kid in the back, fiddling with the dress, and scared. “Remember? The time during our elementary school?”
Soonyoung entertains you, a small smile on his lips. “How can I not? You were this scaredy cat shivering in a corner. I miss that girl, now you have become this violent creature who leaves a hundred bruises.”
“Really? You want me to revert back all the character development I did? Get bullied again?”
Soonyoung straightens his back, pulling Clementine onto his lap. His voice grew serious, “no, never. I just, no, all I was saying is I just miss that innocence. The world was colorful back then,” he steals a glance at you, “at least for a part of time.”
“It was.” You shrug, “until my parents divorce. And I was busy packing my bags every other day in the tug of egos. They couldn’t stand the idea of the other getting me for more than a minute.
“And my mom couldn’t bear the idea of me having fun at my dad’s. So, she would drag me around these arcades so much that I started hating them.”
Soonyoung shoves his shoulder into yours, “not with me. You used to scream at the top of your lungs whenever you lost or won.”
“Ugh, stop flaunting. You suck at games. And so do I. It’s like a clown vs clown.”
“Hey, many people shit their pants at the idea of clowns.” Soonyoung defends, all in light humor.
“My bullies did. They are scared of you and your craziness.” You laugh thinking about one time, they have cornered you after the news of your parents divorce broke out, like a wildfire, it's not common to get a divorce, at least in that time. And all they need is a reason. “What were you thinking? Barrelling in with a chair?” You laugh, watery, that memory always comes with tears and laughter, too painful and too funny, “screaming like an idiot. I think one of them, I don’t remember his name, peed in his pants.”
“They are lucky I didn’t actually hit them. The nerve of them. What about having a dysfunctional family? Mine are together but god, can they get any louder? Can’t stand a minute of them together.” Soonyoung grumbles, “whatever it is, these traumas give us character. Character others’ lack. And how oh so boring they are.”
You throw your head back laughing. “Of course they did. All that therapy.” You groan, “but man did that fuck up us up.” You shake your head, smiling, “The insecurities! They have a feast whenever my,” you gulp, “my boss throws away my work into the bin.”
Soonyoung frowns, “should I grab a chair?”
You laugh, shoulders easing, and the pain giving you a break. Oh, how you love your silly friends.
—
Out of all the things you have planned for a Saturday night, you didn’t expect to spend it this way—sitting between your friends, being bombarded with question after question.
“How exactly is Clementine being needy?” Sohyeon crosses her arms across her chest, her round framed glasses slipping down her nose. “She is happy,” she points her thumb at your dog who is entertaining Vernon.
“Work, what work is keeping you up in the office?” Mina scrolls through the texts you have sent in attempts to ditch the meetings that happened throughout the week. “Jihoon was playing with his cats everyday.”
Everyone sitting in the circle takes a short break from you, circling around Mina with raised eyebrows and curious eyes.
“He sends snaps of his cats every hour.” She waves them off. “Now, you, spill.”
Soonyoung shakes his head, “no, no, come back to the snaps for a minute. He doesn’t send me any.”
“You are a man, hyung.” Vernon chimes.
The night gets darker outside the window. Thunders rumbling in the distance. There’s no way to escape from the clutches of your nosy friends. Soonyoung, under the ruse of treating you to a cake, lured you into the pit hell.
“Oh.” Soonyoung says.
“Yeah, oh.”
You readjust your legs beneath you, looking over your shoulder at the door. The door remains closed, no sign of the person missing out on the impromptu meeting. Of course, Seungcheol won’t be here, on a Saturday night, too precious to spend with a bunch of crazy people.
Or, he might be avoiding you.
“So, Jihoon, huh?” Soonyoung wiggles his eyebrows, passing around beer bottles to everyone. “Since when?”
Sohyeon gasps, “you traitor! We made a pact! If any of us is in love, we should be the first ones to know!” She takes a swig from her bottle, “I should step up. No, we should step up.” She addresses you, “Soonyoung has a date and Mina is in the talking stage. Everyone’s booked and busy. We need to step up.”
Vernon clears his throat over Clementine’s squeaky toy noises. “Uh, me? I’m single too.”
“Oh.” Sohyeon realizes, “but you are a man. I don’t care about you.”
“By the way, Jihoon and I are just friends.” Mina sips on the beer languidly, “nothing more. I just happen to like cats. And he has them.”
You perk up, remembering, “oh, what about your date? Didn’t you say you were going out with her today? Or is it tomorrow?”
“I postponed it. Was originally meant to meet her today but I moved it to next week.” Soonyoung uncaps another beer bottle, looking down at it for a minute before handing it over to you, “here. Get drunk with us today. Go crazy!”
He holds out the bottle for you to accept. You aren’t big on alcohol, and you have reduced drinking it even more after getting diagnosed with diabetes. A low thunder rumbles outside, cool air wheezing past through the cracked open windows, songs playing in the background, and your friends bickering over nonsensical things. For one day you can loosen up, put your worries on the back burner and enjoy the evening like everyone else.
You accept the cold drink from him, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table and wipe the condensation. “What do you mean by postpone? Weren’t you floating in the sky over this date?”
Soonyoung grins seeing you sip on the drink. “Well, friend duties over boyfriend. At least for now.”
Your eyes widen, choking on the liquid. You cough into your elbow, Mina pats your back helping you with the cough. “Wh-What?” Your eyes are watery, and voice cracking, “what do you,” you cough again into your arm, “mean?”
Soonyoung merely shrugs. “When I saw your location at the spot almost everyday. It’s a given thing to find you.”
You sit down with his words for a moment, digesting them. He moved his date—the one he has been excited for the entire week, bombarding your group chat with his silly outfits and horrendous date places, for you. You, who have been ignoring him and everyone else. You look around your friends sitting on the carpet, coddling their drinks, and laughing over nothing. They should have had other plans too, and yet, they are here, entertaining you and lending their shoulder.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Your voice is a whisper. “Soonyoung, no, please don’t ever do that.”
Soonyoung merely shrugs, sipping on his whiskey. “So, overworking huh?”
“Right, you aren’t escaping from us,” Sohyeon reverts back to the topic at hand, “why were you even avoiding us? If something is bothering you, all you need to do is share it with us, so we can swear at the person causing you the trouble, all together. I think that would be more impactful than you alone suffering.”
“That’s not.. how..” Vernon scratches his head, “it works?”
Mina pushes him away, “so who is it? Who had you moping around?”
You set the bottle on your lap, “no one. It’s just one of those weeks.” You bring your hair to the side, patting it down hopefully they won’t see the bite, you did put on concealer, but you can’t help being a little paranoid about it.
Soonyoung excuses himself, answering a call.
“I just needed some time.” You shrug, giving them a small smile, “trust me, everything’s good now.”
They don’t push you further even if they are unhappy with your answer. The group falls into a lull, catching up over the week everyone had. Clementine sits next to you done with playing and sniffing around the apartment. You play with her ears, sighing to yourself.
The sound of the keypad has you perk up, waiting for the door to open. None. You realise it’s the thin walls and the neighbors are home. You sip onto your drink, the taste of beer not enough for your mood, you need something stronger, sharper.
Soonyoung’s whiskey glass is left in his place. You pick the glass up, downing its contents, teeth curling at the heaviness, but it satiates your need for something stronger. The whiskey bottle sits in the middle along with the snacks and a large pizza box. You grab it, pouring yourself another glass. You sit back, chugging huge gulps of whiskey, and watch the rain hitting the window.
Sohyeon opens the dating app, going through the profiles like a woman on a mission. “Should I go on a date with him? He’s an engineer and seems nerdy enough.” Sohyeon tilts her phone towards Mina, “at least it’ll be fun for a single night.”
You turn to the side, spreading your legs, massaging your calves, catching a glimpse of a man smiling brightly on her phone. You down your third glass. Head spinning a little, you press your palm onto the carpet for support, blinking at the girls.
“Show me,” you drop the glass onto the carpet, leaning in to get more details about this man. “Why won't you show me anything? Hmm?”
Sohyeon blinks at your half crawling form, and Mina picks up the glass you were drinking from, showing it to the others.
“Fuck.”
You sniffle, crawling in between Mina and Sohyeon, squeezing some space for yourself. “Show me,” you nuzzle into Sohyeon’s neck, resting your head on her shoulder, “he looks okay. Not great but not bad.” You swipe to the next profile.
“Hey, I haven't decided on him yet.” Sohyeon slaps your hand away from her phone.
You giggle, going back to scroll past down the new candidate’s profile.
Vernon joins the circle after annoying Clementine to his heart’s content, and one look at you, he looks back again. “Woah,” his eyes sparkle, “fuck yeah.”
Soonyoung rushes inside, “what fuck yeah? I mean whatever it is, fuck yeah, but what’s the context.”
Vernon tilts his head towards you, and color drains from Soonyoung’s face. “Noooooo!”
You grin widely, “Sooonyoungie~”
Soonyoung drops down to his knees, cradling his whiskey bottle to his chest. You blink at him, watching the brown liquor bottle snug against his chest. You bring both of your hands, mimicking him, cradling empty air.
The roar of laughter echoes around you, confusing you. “What’s the joke?” You tap Sohyeon’s arm, asking her, “tell me the joke. Mina,” you turn to your other friend seeing that Sohyeon is busy laughing her ass off, “I want to laugh too. Tell me!”
“That’s you, baby girl.” Vernon helps you.
You blush at the endearment, forgetting about the joke and the joke being you. Vernon called you baby girl. You shy away, hiding your face behind Mina.
“Stop toying with her.” Soonyoung hits the back of Vernon’s head. “How didn’t any of you stop her from drinking half of my bottle?”
You peak back at Vernon, your cheeks warm and burning. Vernon’s eyes flick back to you, noticing you out and open, his lips tilt into a slow wide grin, you duck your head down, fiddling with your fingers. You hear his throaty laughter, and you curl into yourself.
“Vernon.” Soonyoung growls.
Vernon holds his hands up. “I meant no harm. It’s just funny how—okay, I’ll stop. Geez, getting all worked up.”
“Why is she red?”
Your eyes widen at the voice, sobering enough to want more strong liquor to drown that voice and the accompanying longing that comes with it.
Seungcheol is standing behind Soonyoung, hard glare at the strewn glasses and beer bottles surrounding the group. His jaw sets. His attention jumps from the bottle Soonyoung’s holding to you, and you hide away.
Soonyoung frowns, “didn’t you say you were busy?”
Seungcheol, still pissed, and panting as if he climbed all the floors, “I moved shit. Why is everyone drinking?”
You wince, hiding more behind Mina, slowly crawling to the space behind her, resting your face on her back. If you can’t see him then he can’t see you too. You think on that logic, something doesn’t seem right, yet you nuzzle your warm face into her cold shirt.
“It's the weekend.” Soonyoung supplies, “and stop scaring her. What’s wrong with everyone? One is flirting and another is scaring her away. Give her a break. She can drink once in a while.”
Mina pats your shoulder in support. “And she’s maintaining her health.”
You grimace remembering all the cakes and sweet drinks you consumed over the last two days. The glucometer and your doctor will be disappointed but you are just a human with tendencies to seek comfort in things that aren’t good for you.
Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his temples. “Wait,” he straightens.
You reel back enough to catch a glimpse of him.
Seungcheol stares at Soonyoung, “who flirted with whom?”
“I’ll show you,” Vernon volunteers. He grins, softening his expression, “hey, baby girl, come here.” He pats the space next to him.
You freeze behind Mina. His face blurring, you blink slowly, Vernon’s face disappears reminding you of the bully from your elementary school. The friendly smile makes way to the condescending remarks. And you are back into the cramped chair, your pencil taking the brunt of your nails digging in the wood.
You hear gasps and screams around you. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand to get rid of this blurriness and see Soonyoung on top of Vernon with a raised fist. Sohyeon holds him back. Mina is screaming at the two. The screams turn into the laughter of your classmates. You shut your ears.
You mumble, shaking your head, “it’s not happening now..” you repeat to yourself, “it’s not happening..”
A blanket is draped around you, pulling you into darkness. You startle, fighting against the blanket to break free. Hands hug around you, gentle, a warm body pressed against you.
“You are here.” The voice soothes you, “you are here, in the pigpen with all the garbage? Surrounded by,” the voice breaks away, “how does this go Mina?”
The hands move away. You whine reaching for it. Another set of delicate arms wrap around you, carrying warmth but not as much as the ones before.
You hear another voice, “deep breaths with me. Come on, inhale with me, one, two, three, four.”
You inhale along with the count.
“Hold it with me. One, two, three, four.” The hand pats your shoulder, the touch soothing your anxiety and grounding you down to the present. “Exhale, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Still with me?”
You nod.
Mina presses your shoulder, “you did so good. Let’s do it once again, okay? Will you do it with me? Yeah?”
You rub your runny nose, nodding. The breathing exercise, along with Mina’s voice grounds you to the present. You are back to the Soonyoung’s apartment, inside a blanket and in the pair of arms you feel safe.
The blanket is slowly pulled off. You adjust to the brightness of the room. There’s music playing in the background still, the rain took its loudest form and your friends are holding their breath, fear stricken.
Guilt opens its claws, tearing you apart. Why did you have to come here, ruin a perfectly going evening? Why did you have to make your friends worry? Why did you have to—tears sit at the edge, threatening to fall meeting the warm boba eyes, god, did he have to see you in your most vulnerable form?
Vernon throws his hands around you, knocking you back to the floor, saying, “sorry, sorry, sorry.” He lays down on you, squeezing the air out of you. “I’m an idiot and don’t know my lane.”
You shakily run your hand down his back, staring at the ceiling in confusion and suffocation. “Uh—Vernon.”
Seungcheol looms over you, his jaw set. Vernon is pulled off of you in a swift second. You inhale a big gulp of air. Chortles fill the air at your dramatic gasp for air. You smile, wincing as you sit up, “I didn’t know you have muscles.”
Vernon, still held by the collar by Seungcheol, grins. “All the free time goes to the gym.” He flexes his bicep. Seungcheol hits the back of his head. “Sorry, how are you? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
You wave him off, “it’s fine. It’s just, all the,” you gesture wilding in the air, “things happening. It’s just,” you sigh, standing up, “I’m good. Please forget this happened. Please.”
Soonyoung is by your side, taking your arm already knowing where you want to go. You chuckle at seeing him grinding his teeth, ruffling his hair, and telling him you are good.
Seungcheol meets your eyes on your way to the bedroom, he lets go of Vernon, the girls and Vernon bickering over his carelessness and lack of emotional intelligence. Seungcheol takes a step along with you, not wanting to break the connection, craning his neck looking over Soonyoung who is blocking you as he helps you to his room. Seungcheol grasps the wooden cabinet, his worried eyes scanning you from your face to your body. You turn away, reaching the bedroom and closing the door.
“So,” you address Soonyoung, licking your lips wanting to ease your friend’s anger and not think about the shadow of legs pacing outside the door, “you did raise a chair, huh?”
He glares at you before melting and falling onto the bed. “That fuckard doesn’t know when to stop or listen to others.”
You laugh, sitting next to him. “He did nothing. It just threw me off and sobered me up.”
Soonyoung rests his arm across his eyes. “No wonder.”
You fiddle with your fingers, gulping down. “Hey, Soonyoung,” you know he is looking at you but you are too shy to look him in the eye. You stare at your fingers, “thank you, for the blanket and all.”
“That’s not me. I mean,” he raises up, “not like I don’t know how to console someone but I gave that chance to Seungcheol as he seemed eager to help.”
“What?”
“I know how to console someone. I swear. I can show you now.” He pulls up the heavy comforter and throws on your head knocking you down. “Oops.”
“Soonyoung!”
“Fine!” He groans, “it was all Seungcheol. I never saw him move that fast. Do you think he has someone who has those attacks? Or does he go through them? How does he know what to do?”
You gulp, hiding your shaking hands behind you. “Wow, Soonyoung, one can’t ever separate gossip from you.”
—
The night resumes. The music which took the backseat has finally shined light on the undiscovered dancers of your group—Sohyeon and Mina. Few of the horrible dance performances you have ever seen in your life. The group have let go of the inhibitions, coddled with the comfort and safe space in the friends who have seen them in their absolute worst, and didn't mind bringing out their truest selves.
You find yourself laughing too. Soonyoung has eased your anxieties for scaring your friends and spoiling the night. First, you have avoided them as a plague and now, you have them clutching their pearls. Once you have exited the room, preparing yourself to face one of the most awkward situations and thousands of questions to answer, you walk into the makeshift dance floor replicating a club—disco lights, music on, Sohyeon and Mina putting on a performance of their lives.
Soonyoung and Vernon hoots and whistles from either side of you. You gasp, closing your eyes when the song takes a sexy turn and Mina drops it down—falls on the floor. You bark out a laugh, clapping hard. Vernon joins them, grooving to the music, and rolling his body.
“They don’t know ball.” Soonyoung clicks his tongue.
You scoff, “they are better than anyone—” Seungcheol stands up from the other end of the couch, picking up a stray beer bottle and sips on it, sitting beside you “—I know.”
Soonyoung cranes his neck sprouting nonsense into your ear. None of it goes into your head. You fiddle with the ends of the pillow in your lap, trying your best not to feel his presence.
Seungcheol sits right next to you despite the available space. His thigh presses into yours just like how he does after fucking you into the bed, and making you sit to drink water and eat something. Or else no one is going to sleep that night. He readjusts himself, resting his arm on the back of the couch.
Your eyes flutter, inhaling the familiar calming scent of his. Your stomach flutters at the proximity, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the pillow, clasping your hands on your mouth, focusing on your friends dancing, now with Soonyoung who is popping off his bones. Fingers twirl around the strands of your hair, tugging slightly, before smoothing it down.
Seungcheol sips on the beer languidly, a laze curled around his movements, looking straight ahead. The silver disco lights reflect on the chain hanging down his neck. Your eyes trace up from his thick neck to his jaw, the cheeks and his eyes. To find him looking back at you, your heart drops to your stomach, you turn back to your friends.
You lick your lips, heart beating loud against your ribcage. Why is he here? You steal another glance from the corner of your eyes. He sips on the beer, still looking at you. You slither away, from his arms, his warm body and his eyes that won’t ever leave you. He squeezes your shoulder, stopping you from moving away, he trails his hand down your arm, pulling you back into him. Hand going back to resting on the back of the couch, once you are resting against him.
You stand up, picking up another beer bottle and taking a huge gulp. You rub your lips with the back of your hand, turning around to set the bottle on the coffee table. Seungcheol is leaning forward, the hand that was playing with the ends of your hair is now holding his bottle. This fuckard.
Vernon pulls you onto the makeshift dance floor, the song is changing into a slow one. He nudges his chin, asking your hand for a dance. You throw your head back laughing, accepting his invitation, holding his hand, and following his lead.
Vernon moves you around, mimicking one of your favorite Disney princess movies. You step on his foot here and there, a total beginner to dancing. Vernon twirls you so suddenly you fear for your life, ending into his arms listening to his boyish laughter. You grab onto him, seizing him from performing another twirls, and rest your cheek on his shoulder.
He moves you both to the slow music, gently swaying your bodies and you find comfort in his arms. Seungcheol is leaning forward, your breath stutters, he rests his arms on his thighs, realising he has your attention it startles him out of his thoughts, his eyes trail down to the way Vernon holds you close to him, pausing on the way Vernon’s hand squeezes your waist.
Seungcheol chugs down the remaining of his beer. You avert your eyes, peeling away from Vernon, smiling at him, and his goofiness. You ruffle his hair, walking away. He holds your wrist, dragging you back, shaking his head. The song changes, he moves his hips, and waits for you to follow him.
“No way!” You cross your arms in an X.
“Yes way, madam.” He shows the step, again, now with Mina and Sohyeon joining in. You back away, ready to escape. Soonyoung holds your shoulders, not letting you leave until you dance the night away.
“Fuck you. Show me.”
They are elated, each one teaching you in their own way, you follow Vernon’s guide, his hand helping you with the movement, his instructions in your ear.
“Stop dancing like a robot!” Sohyeon hits your hips. “Rhythm, get the rhythm out, baby.”
You try, you try your absolute best. Only for it to become a robotic version of hip movement, and you can’t stop laughing at yourself along with your friends.
At the end of the song, you are finally able to break away from the shackles of your friends finding space to rest. You laugh your way towards the couch. The couch is now empty with three beer bottles strewn around the coffee table.