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Falling for you | ch.6 change

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.

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