ʸᵒᵘⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ

𝙞'𝙢 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙝

[crispy-chan]

happier ៚ h.js

❝ I like to think of happiness as a visiting friend. It doesn't have to be something big or grandiose but it comes out of the blue when you need it the most. ❞

៚ PAIRING. han jisung x gn!reader

៚ GENRE. fluff, angst; college!au, s2l, f2l, (hurt) comfort, romance, drama

៚ WARNINGS. language, food, discussions of mental health and allusions to anxiety and/or depression, crying, misunderstandings (not between the main pairing), (PG-13)

៚ WORD COUNT. 20k

៚ SUMMARY. after volunteering to become a subject for jisung's psychology final, you assume your monotonous life will simply go on. but suddenly, there's a lot more drama in your life and you feel yourself plummeting. but there's hope - especially when jisung vows to change that, taking you on fun 'dates' in order to restore your faith in happiness and show you why life is truly worth living.

៚ A/N. asksjskjs i am back from the dead with this shorter fic for my beloved ji . this piece is a bit more personal to me so i hope i did it justice <3 tysm @dini-chu for the lovely banner :3 and thank you @r1oboxv for beta reading the beginning of the fic (you can tell that the quality of the first two parts is way better than the rest lol), you're like a professional editor lmao; @intotheneozone and @celestialgyu for going over the rest <3 nala your comments were really helpful and so funny at times gaaah :')) and the ficscafe ensemble for helping me out with specific parts i felt stuck on, tysm guys T.T

MASTERLIST

“Are you happy?”

You muster what you believe to be the perfect poker face as you slowly shake your head, staring right into the camera lens and pursing your lips.

“No.”

It was very subtle, your voice cracking by the ‘o’, and you pray that Jisung doesn't pick up on your crumbling facade. Unbeknownst to you, his inquisitive eyes catch the way your lips waver despite your best efforts to appear calm and collected. He doesn't push you though, instead, he scribbles something down in his notebook, looks back up, and gives you the warmest of smiles.

It almost makes your heart skip a beat, the way he looks at you: as if you're an old friend, as if you're someone he actually cares about deeply. Perhaps it affected you more than it should, considering how cold and unkind people have been to you in the past. And his smile is infectious—it almost makes you want to smile too, but you stick to being casual and nonchalant. After all, you're nothing but a ‘subject’ for his psychology final.

Jisung looks as if he's waiting for you to elaborate but you don't. You can't speak, you can't think properly after blatantly saying 'no' a little too honestly. He notices you staring blankly at the small, red light bleeping in one-second intervals, your lips gradually turning down and pursing themselves, the lower lip beginning to quiver.

‘Oh shit. Are you gonna cry?’ Jisung mentally slaps himself for hesitating for a split second, hurriedly standing up and in the process nearly knocking over the stool he was sitting on.

The clumsy action unconsciously makes you chuckle, but you cover it up with a cough just in case he'd feel embarrassed. His ears flush red and you almost apologize for it but he beats you to it

“Let's take a break,” he quips, hastily pressing the pause button before rubbing the back of his neck that surely matches the color of his ears now. “It feels like a pretty loaded question, we can get back to it later,” he adds, reaching for his keys.

“Wanna grab some boba? I know just the place.” 

one. (a week ago)

Friday comes and you can't believe how crowded the lecture hall is, especially for an afternoon class. Immediately, you spot Yuna tucked in the corner as she flashes you a bright smile, waving you over to the empty spot beside her. You barely manage to squeeze yourself through the seats, ignoring the pointed looks you receive when accidentally bumping into somebody.

It comes to you as no surprise that the lecture is rather boring. This must be the catch when you attend classes solely for the extra credit. It seems like you're not the only one. Once the clock finally strikes two, the bell rings, and everyone is out of their seats, hurrying to exit the hall.

The departure is chaotic, survival of the fittest if you will, freshmen running haphazardly in hopes of making it to the cafeteria before the hordes of seniors in the neighboring class, and sophomores just trying to get to their next lecture hall without snapping at said freshmen. 

Amidst the pandemonium, you see a hooded figure running from one end of the room to the other, clutching to his chest what seems to be a clipboard. He jumps from student to student, pleading with them—for what, that you don't hear—just a tad bit too enthusiastically. 

It almost comes off as desperate. 

“Hey,” you gently nudge Yuna in the shoulder, eyeing the boy with a raised brow. “What's his deal? Is he like trying to get someone to sign up for a petition or what?”

“Oh, you mean Jisung?” she points towards his hooded figure that's now making its way near your row. “I think I heard someone say that he's still looking for a volunteer for his psych final,” she picks at her perfectly manicured nail, clearly not interested to be one. “Something to do with happiness and wellbeing, apparently.”

You cock your head in surprise, stopping yourself from admitting out loud how intrigued you actually were. Instead, you mumble, “Poor thing though, seems like no one's willing to do it.”

As if on cue, Jisung finishes up in the row next to yours, making his way toward you with a determined smile and causing the both of you to halt your steps.

“Hi,” he greets you, raising his hand for you to wait. “I'm Jisung,” he proceeds to offer his hand for Yuna to shake. To his dismay, she stays frozen in her spot, looking back and forth between his hand and his face. 

“Oh, hi,” she replies flatly, giving him her faux commercial-model smile. She doesn't shake his hand though, but Jisung manages to play it off smoothly by ruffling his hand through his hair.

“I was wondering if one you would be interested in—”

“Sorry,” Yuna cuts him off with a fake laugh, one that you know means ‘I'm bolting the hell outta here’. Yet for some reason, you find yourself looking at Jisung, heart twisting inside your chest.

“Running late for class,” she mumbles, making her way around Jisung. “I hope you find someone through.”

“I'll see you later, Y/N,” she bids you goodbye, this time with a genuine smile. You raise your hand and wave back. You and Jisung were now the only ones left in the lecture hall.

He turns to you, his lips upturned too little to be considered a smile, almost like a pout. Your heart twists inside your chest—something about the defeated gleam in his eyes made you want to wipe it away and replace it with a smile. You clutch your book to your chest, wracking your brain to say something, but Jisung sighs to fill the growing silence, shoving his clipboard back in his backpack.

He slings it over his shoulder, ramming his hands into his pockets. “I guess today isn't my lucky day,” he says to no one in particular but his eyes gloss over to you, locking gazes. 

‘Say something, Y/N,’ your brain shouts at you.

“Did you forget your lucky charm or something?” you say stupidly, mentally slapping yourself as soon as the words slip past your lips. Why would you even— out of all the things you could've said—

Luckily, it garners a small laugh from Jisung. There was no trace of mockery in your tone, and the genuine (and blunt) way you said it makes him lighten up a bit.

“Guess I gotta find one of those,” he grins but it doesn't reach his eyes. Somber, he starts walking away and before you even register it—

“Wait,” you blurt out, causing him to stop in his tracks. His head snaps back and he looks at you questioningly, a small glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I… I didn't say anything yet.”

His face lights up brighter than a Christmas tree.

“Well… what were you gonna say,” you ask, urging him to backtrack to his initial conversation with Yuna. Frantically, he zips down his backpack and pulls the clipboard back out, a bunch of papers spilling on the floor in the process.

“Oh shit, sorry, just a moment,” he scrambles to pick them up and shove them in his bag as you drop down to help him. “I was gonna ask if you were interested to become a subject of sorts for my project,” he spoke animatedly, flipping through the pages on his clipboard. He lets out a curse when he rips the page in two before being able to even show you anything.

“Oh, crap.”

His clumsiness makes you soften and you stifle a chuckle. “It's okay,” you reassure him, both of you getting up on your feet. “You can tell me more about this project of yours somewhere else,” you offer with a smile. The hall didn't seem like the greatest place to discuss anything other than assignment deadlines with your professor so perhaps a change of setting would be better. “We can see if today is your lucky day, after all,” you add playfully, lips curving upwards.

He struggles to keep in his excitement, breaking out into a large grin. “It's a deal!” Hesitating, he reaches for your hand, and instead of taking it, he settles for lightly grabbing your wrist, heading towards the exit. “We can go over the details in this place I know! They serve the best boba on campus—” he adds, rambling on about all the delicious drinks they offer—as if you guys were old friends. You listen to him with a smile, and and a thought crosses your mind—how do you feel so comfortable around him so quickly?

two.

The place turns out to be just right around the corner, apparently your college's boba hotspot. And how you end up not knowing about it until just now is lost on you, but you figure it's because you often drink coffee or tea. 

It's packed with people. Fridays are the days when there's almost always good deals, as you've heard from Jisung. Both of you are among the crowd, standing in line, and you scan your eyes around, mostly seeing couples, teenagers, college students, and the occasional touring family. “Rush hour,” he whispers to you at some point while waiting.

"Hi! What can I get for you today?" The girl behind the counter chirps. Jisung immediately launches his descriptive order, and begins offering choices for you himself. He's getting something along the lines of a Taiwanese Brown Sugar Bubble Tea, and although you aren't entirely new to this thing, you think it's probably best to follow what he's get to make it easier for you.

"And that'll be $6! Cash or card?"

"Wait, $6? We're paying together, and we bought two—"

"Yes it's still $6, I mean, you guys are—oh. OH, I assumed you guys were a couple. We have a Couples Promo where if you order the same drink you can get the other one for free when you buy it together...." The girl explains, lowkey urging you both to go for the deal instead.

She stage whispers, "You guys can still get it even if you're not dating! College fees are no joke!" She dramatizes with a smile.

Jisung tries to cover up the assumption by awkwardly laughing and over-explaining, so you step in, faking a serious tone. "Alright, lady. Yes! We are definitely a couple and we even got the same drink, now give us the damn promo."

She could not have smiled more proudly, typing into the cash register. You mirror her expression. Jisung pays for it immediately. When your drinks are called out, you laugh at the tacky, half-heart couple cup covers they're served in. 

Despite the swarm of people, you manage to score a booth by the window corner. Both of you settle into your cushioned chairs, Jisung sighing contently for the fifth time as he takes a sip of his brown sugar bubble tea. 

You grin watching him happily lap up the pearly bubbles, holding in a coo as he slurps them with an oddly concentrated frown, not to mention the way his cheeks bunch up every time he has more than three in his mouth.

“What?” he asks with rosy cheeks, mouth still full as he cowers under your gaze. You give him a closed-eyed smile.

“Nothing. You just… you look kinda like a squirrel, you know? It's cute…”

It takes you a moment to register what you had just said, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth. “S-Sorry, I d-didn't mean—”

“—it's okay,” Jisung splutters, his face colored like a tomato. “I get that a lot.”

But before the suffocating silence can engulf you as a whole, Jisung pulls his clipboard from his backpack, dropping it on the table. From the corner of your eye, you catch the word ‘happiness’ written in bold at the top of the page.

“Okay so as you might've already heard, I'm a psychology major. And yes, I know most people wouldn't peg me as one but it is what it is.”

Your quirk a brow, “Why wouldn't I? You seem like a kind and compassionate guy, I'm sure you'll do great in the field.”

Upon hearing your words, Jisung flushes, not used to hearing such praise and support. “You really think so? People usually think I'm too rowdy and chaotic to help anyone out.”

You can nearly hear the pain in his words from having been chastised and scolded by many about his major choice. The way he grips onto the edge of the table has his knuckles turning white and in the spur of the moment, you place your hand over his.

“Don't listen to what they have to say. You're the only one that can decide for yourself.”

He looks at you from under his lashes, a genuine smile painted across his lips. “Thank you. It's reassuring to hear it from someone else.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “And, uh, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all of this on you.”

“Don't sweat it,” you wave it off. “But I must say, I'm really curious what's your project about.”

“Oh yeah,” he cocks his head. “I nearly forgot why we even came here…”

The rest of the afternoon passes by rather quickly. Jisung made for great company with his witty jokes and silly laugh. Before you even realize it, the sun is almost gone and the cafe is now nearly empty, save for a few couples scattered throughout.

“Oh shoot, I didn't realize it was so late,” Jisung apologizes sheepishly, biting his lower lip. 

“It's okay, I didn't notice either.”

As the two of you begin to gather your things, Jisung looks up at you expectantly with puppy eyes. “So did you decide yet?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to ponder, a faux contemplative expression painted on your face. “I don't know yet…”

A quiet ‘oh’ leaves Jisung's lips but he tries to mask it with a splutter. “I mean, y-you can take your time, you know? No need to tell me now…”

You almost feel bad for doing this. He's so naive it's practically endearing. Deciding to put him out of his misery, you reach your hand to pat his shoulder.

“I'm kidding. I'll gladly take part in your project.”

The way Jisung's eyes light up merely confirms that you made the right decision. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grabs your hand in his, vigorously shaking it.

“Thank you so so much. I promise I'll make it worth your time!”

“Okay. Honestly, though, you had me at the free boba for a month.”

His deep chuckle reverberates through the room. “I hope you're aware though that my funds aren't unlimited.”

“Don't worry, I won't drain your bank account too much.”

Jisung holds the door for you as you walk out, the chilly evening air immediately nipping at your skin. “You know, I'm also agreeing 'cause you seem like a great guy and I wouldn't mind your company.” 

You cross your arms, looking up at the sky as you walk. “You're probably also one of the few people who can stand talking to me for more than ten minutes,” you add as an afterthought, not noticing how Jisung's pleased smile morphs into a sorrowful look.

When the cool wind picks up, you unconsciously shiver, pulling your thin shirt closer to your body in hopes of preserving some body heat.

“Are you cold?” Jisung asks with a frown, scanning you from head to toe. You try to deny it with a firm shake of your head but you aren't fooling him.

“You have goosebumps all over,” he deadpans after placing his large palm over your arm. His hand is so freakishly warm, you notice, and for some reason, you feel your heart leap out of your chest. 

“Here you go,” he quickly takes his bomber off before gently placing it over your shoulders. The warm material hangs off your frame and envelops you like a weighted blanket. Despite wanting to refuse and return the piece of clothing to him, you can't bring yourself to let go of it. Not when it cocoons you with so much warmth. 

Inhaling, you pick up on the musky scent of cedar and sandalwood and it nearly makes you dizzy. 

How does he smell so good?

As the two of you walk side by side, hands bumping and fingers gently grazing against each other, you feel somewhat at peace.

It's weird, you realize, considering you just signed the deal with the devil. You basically agreed to put all your emotions and insecurities on blast to nearly a complete stranger. You still aren't sure what compelled you to say yes in the first place, although deep down, you suppose it was his electric smile and gentle voice.

It all comes to a halting stop when the weight of your words comes crashing down on you. You would have to open up about all your troubles, which wouldn't be so bad if it hadn't been for the fact that you never talked about that with anyone.

Turning to the side to face him, the words slip out of your mouth before you even realize what you're saying, “Are you sure you want me for your project? I-I'm not exactly the happiest person and I don't want you to feel like you need to deal with my troubles.”

Jisung's eyes go wide for a split second before he manages to recompose himself, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don't worry about it. Unless you of course don't mind…”

You swallow the pit forming in your throat as the two of you finally arrive in front of your apartment. 

“I guess it's time to part ways. I had a great time today, not only because you agreed to help me, you know?” Jisung shuffles in his spot, putting his hands in his pockets. “Good night.”

“Wait! Jisung,” you suddenly blurt, remembering that you're still wearing his bomber. “What about your jacket?”

“Ahh, about that,” he smiles bashfully, shooting you a wink. “You can keep it. It looks better on you anyways…”

You nearly stumble back, holding the jacket close to your chest as your heart erratically thumps inside of you like a drum in the hands of a five year old. 

What is this? What's this unexplainable feeling of warmth spreading through you?

How does he manage to elicit such strong reactions from you with just a few words?

As you're falling asleep, you find yourself curling into the covers, your mind wandering back to Jisung and his sparkling eyes.

three. (present)

The air around you is thick enough to cut with a knife.

After your botched attempt to remain nonchalant about your, well, for the lack of a better word, pitiful answer, Jisung scrambles to save you from the initial awkwardness. 

“I'm sorry, Y/N,” he sighs for the third time, running his hand through his hair. “I shouldn't have started with that question.”

“It's okay,” you stammer, trying to hold in the tears that are beginning to brim in the corners of your eyes.

‘Stupid, Y/N, stupid!’ you curse in your head, feeling mortified for nearly falling apart at the first question. Now he's going to think you're pathetic. You try to hide your sniffles with a pesky cough but just like before, nothing gets past Jisung's inquisitive eyes.

You learned that the hard way.

As you feel yourself getting smaller and smaller under his gaze, you aren't able to hold in the single tear that trickles down your cheek.

“A-Are you, uh, are you okay?” Jisung cringes at his question immediately after it leaves his parted lips. Of course you weren't okay, for God's sake. You were crying.

“Y-Yeah. I-I'm sorry. Do you have a napkin?”

He hurries to grab a pack from the shelf and hands you one. “I'll go grab the boba. Do you want to come with me or would you rather wait here?”

After blowing your nose as gracefully as possible, you crumple the tissue into a ball and shove it in your pocket.

“Can I come with you?”

“Oh, sure,” Jisung grins, hand resting on the doorknob. “They say a boba a day keeps the doctor away…”

You had to stifle the giggle threatening to leave your mouth at his corny joke, gently hitting him on the shoulder. “If you want diabetes, maybe.”

Upon seeing you laugh, Jisung feels his chest tighten. You were so pretty when you smiled and it made him want to be the cause of your happiness. Pocketing his wallet, he points towards the door, a grin breaking out.

“First one there gets extra tapioca.”

“Hey!” you whine. “That's unfair, you had a headstart!”

four. 

The fall wind ruffles through your hair as you gaze into the distance, the cup of the delicious sweet drink secure in your hands.

Jisung unceremoniously plops himself to your left, munching on the chewy tapioca.

“The weather’s nice today, don’t you think?”

You feel your lips curl into a smile at his segway into conversation. But he’s right, the sun is shining and the sky is nearly spotless, save for a handful of clouds marking the infinite sea of blue.

“Yeah, I'll miss this in the winter.”

The two of you stay quiet for a bit, slurping your bubble tea as you watch the ducks swim across the pond.

After a while , Jisung carefully breaks the silence with a question. “Are you sure you still want to continue? I wouldn't fault you if you decided that it's too much…”

Placing your drink on the grass, you keep your eyes trained ahead of you as you ask, “Can I be honest?” When he nods, you continue, “I've always struggled with staying happy. Things that work for others just didn't seem to work for me. And I don't know,” you let out a sigh, “I just feel lost, unsure of what to do. It feels like I'm the only one struggling to keep myself above the surface while others are happily swimming, soaking in the Sun. I feel like there's just something wrong with me….”

Jisung pokes his tongue against his cheek. “Can I be honest too?”

For the first time since you sat down, you look at him, peering from under your lashes. “Sure.”

“I used to be exactly the same back in high school. It was a pretty dark time for me and I didn't have many friends but I had one that managed to pull me out of this slump and show me why life's worth living.”

You hum, his words echoing in your head like a broken record. It was hard to imagine Jisung as anything but a cheerful guy. But just like you, it seems like depression loomed over him like a nasty raincloud, except he had managed to open an umbrella and protect himself from the chilling rain.

“What's your definition of happiness, then?”

 The question hangs in the air for a while and you can see Jisung quietly pondering before he finally answers. “I like to think of happiness as a visiting friend. It doesn't have to be something big or grandiose but it comes out of the blue when you need it the most.”

“That's actually really sweet.” You can't help but smile at his poetic answer. It seems so on brand for Jisung, and yet you find yourself believing his words.

He runs his hand through his hair before looking back at you, this time, a newfound conviction in his voice as he spoke, “I want to help you, Y/N. I want to be your visiting friend and I want to show you everything that makes me happy. I want you to know that you aren't in this alone. And who knows, perhaps it'll help you appreciate the little things in life. Only if you'd like though…”

Your eyes widen as you keep your gaze trained on the grass in front of you. Everything around you goes silent as you soak in Jisung's words. The certainty in his voice somehow manages to reassure you while simultaneously causing your heart to do backflips in your chest. You struggle to blink away the tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I could tailor my assignment a little—make it more like a diary entry type of thing. Every time I'd take you somewhere nice, you can tell me,honestly,your thoughts. What do you think?”

“Won't that affect your assignment, though?”

“Don't worry about it,” he turns around to look ahead, allowing the wind to ruffle his chocolate hair. “My prof. told me I can change up my project as long as it involves ‘happiness’. He gave me the creative freedom to stick with my gut and do what I think would work best”

“Oh, that's great! You don't see professors being so accommodating that often.”

“Yeah,” Jisung's lips curl upwards as he lets his head loll back. “The Art of Psychology is my favorite class this semester.”

The conversation slowly dies out and you're left with a comfortable silence. In the distance, you can hear children screaming and dogs barking yet somehow, you feel oddly at peace.

“You wanna head back?”

“Sure,” you nod, pushing yourself off the ground.

five.

Jisung rings your doorbell at exactly nine o'clock as you scramble to touch up your hair, glancing in the mirror to make sure you look presentable.

Ryujin raises her brow in amusement as she watches you scramble out the door. She swirls her spoon in the pint of ice cream she’s holding, giving you a once-over. “Where's the rush? Wait, are you going on a date?!”

The heat rises to your cheeks at her assumption and you promptly shake your head, cowering under her knowing gaze. “N-No, of course not!”

She scoffs in response. “Bullshit. This is the first time I've seen you put any effort into your appearance so it must be important.”

As if to emphasize her point, she jabs her spoon in your direction, giving you another once over. “Though I think you should change that shirt. It looks unflattering on you.”

You feel any semblance of confidence you had wither into dust as you nervously glance back down on your outfit. You know Ryujin means well but her blunt delivery always makes you want to shrivel up into a ball and disappear.

While you know that you don't have her impeccable fashion taste, it feels like a low-blow to say that you never put any effort into looking presentable. You do, even if it isn't up to her standards. And her casually commenting on your shirt—again, she means well but it doesn't really help you.

You are now left feeling insecure about your outfit choice, even considering changing into something new but another ring of the doorbell causes you to nearly jump in your skin.

“You should go, loverboy is getting impatient.”

And with that, you're out the door.

When you walk out, you're greeted by a way-too-excited-for-nine-am Jisung. He's wearing ripped jeans and a tucked-in t-shirt, topped off with his signature bomber jacket that's at least two sizes too big on him.

Yet, somehow, he manages to pull it off. Not only that—you find yourself looking at him for a second too long. He looks good. The boyfriend kind of good that makes you feel like you actually want to date him. 

Pulling your jacket closer to your body, your insecurities begin to slowly eat away at your insides. Maybe you should've dressed up a bit? Perhaps Ryujin was right…

“Are you ready to go?” Jisung's cheerful voice halts your train of thought. “I prepared some sandwiches, lemonade, and strawberry cheesecake!” He twirls the basket he brought and you hear the telltale sound of a lot of good food.

His exuberance is almost infectious and you find yourself in high spirits in no time.

“Really? You did all of that by yourself?”

“Oh, well,” he drops the small wicker basket on the pavement, taking a few steps towards you. You nearly step back in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks as he comes face to face with you.

“W-What are you—”

He thumbs away a speck of dirt from your cheek. “You had a lil' something there, darling.”

You nearly splutter at both his words and actions, heart racing inside of your chest. Cautiously raising your head, you dare to peek up at him.

“Well, I made everything alone… except for the cheesecake. Uh, Felix had to help me with that one,” he says, shooting you a lopsided grin.

“Oh well,” you giggle. “I take it that you're not particularly skilled in the kitchen.”

“H-Hey,” he stammers as he tries to defend his baking skills, blush coating his cheeks. “I am. It's just that the cream cheese wouldn't hold its shape…”

“Yeah yeah, sure you are.”

After Jisung's incessant whines die down, another peaceful tranquility sets in the air. It's almost magical how no words need to be exchanged between you two for you to feel relaxed.

When you arrive at the park, he immediately gets to work, walking from one end to the other to gauge the ‘vibe’ as he calls it.

“I swear! I need to see if I vibe with the area before I sit down,” he explains like it's the most normal thing in the world. You can't help but roll your eyes at his antics but follow him nonetheless, sighing in relief when he finally chooses a spot.

He insists that he must set everything up on his own, like a true gentleman and you watch with a sparkle in your eyes as he smooths down the creases of the blanket. 

“I think I can hear the blanket purr from how hard you're petting it,” you chuckle, grabbing one end of the blanket to straighten it out. 

“H-Hey, I'm supposed to prepare everything,” he pouts, hurriedly grabbing the basket and placing it in the middle. He pulls out three neatly wrapped boxes and two plates.

“Do you want to start with the sandwiches?”

“Sure.”

After both of you help yourselves to the sandwiches and cheesecake, you fall back down on the blanket, patting your stomach. You have since taken off your jacket as the sun rays peeked through the branches, illuminating you with a soft glow.

“By the way,” Jisung suddenly speaks up from next to you, “I really like your shirt. It looks good on you.”

Warmth pools your belly at his compliment. You suppress the grin that's threatening to peek through as you turn around, now laying face to face with Jisung.

“Thanks. You don't look that bad yourself.”

Unnoticed by you, he flushes at your words, eyes sparkling as he takes you in. With your eyes closed and your mouth curled into a smile, you look happy.

And as stupid as it sounds, you being happy makes Jisung happy too. He wants to be the cause of your happiness, the reason you smile. He wants to be around to hear your sweet laughter spill from your throat. 

His hand reaches out to gently grab the petal that landed on your hair.

“Do you want to play UNO?”

Your eyes widen. “You have it with you?”

“Sure thing. Gotta warn you though, I was three times champion back in high school.”

“It's on!”

six.

You're sitting in front of the camera once again, except this time, you're a lot more relaxed. Your shoulders slump as you watch Jisung carefully arrange the camera, tongue poking out between his lips as his brows furrow.

Finally, once he gets the right angle, a sigh escapes his parted lips and he looks up at you. “Are you ready?”

When you nod, he hits the ‘record’ button, shuffling back into his seat.

“Okay, could you tell me what you did today?” he reads the question from his notepad, looking back up at you. You give him the are-you-serious look, not understanding why you needed to answer but you do nonetheless, masking the silence with an awkward cough.

“So, you took me on a picnic. It was actually really fun—I haven't relaxed like that in a while.”

Jisung'd mouth twitches as he holds in a smirk. “Okay, and what would you say was the most exciting part of the day?”

“Hmm,” you grow silent as you ponder. “I'd say just laying down in the grass and talking. I guess it sounds kinda lame,” you nibble on your lower lip, breaking eye contact, “but it felt really nice.”

“Do you think you could elaborate? Maybe a specific moment?”

“Ah,” the heat rises to your cheeks as you feel the wave of embarrassment wash over you. “I-I'm not really sure but…”

“...but?” Jisung's curious eyes prompt you to continue. “Probably just turning around and seeing someone's face right next to me.”

You blow out a puff of air. “I guess it's still kinda surreal to have a person want to spend time with me. At least I think…” you mumble as an afterthought, not noticing the flash of hurt on Jisung's face.

He recomposes himself rather quickly and reads out the last question.

“If you were to rate today's activity on a happiness scale, how much would you say?”

“You mean how happy it made me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” your hands play with the hems of your sleeves. “I'd say a solid seven and a half. I had a lot of fun.”

Pressing the button to stop the recording, Jisung beams. “Thanks! That's everything for today.”

seven.

“Hey,” you turn your head to follow the familiar voice, eyes settling on Jisung's figure, his go-to bomber jacket for once replaced with a black hoodie.

“Oh, hey. How are you?” you greet him, a smile already forming at the corner of your lips like it always does when you talk to Jisung. Since your majors were light years apart, it was rare to see him in the same building.

“Good, thanks for asking. I almost fell asleep during my lecture though.”

You fail to stifle a burst of laughter at the face he pulls. There was just something so undeniably him about falling asleep in class. “Was it psychology?”

“Oh, God, no!” he shakes his head vigorously. “I love that class. It was Calc intro, most boring lecture I've ever had.”

A frown takes over your face. “Wait, you're taking Calc? I thought you were a psychology major…”

“Oh, I am,” he responds and you follow the outline of his lips as they form a perfect heart shape. “But I had to choose an elective that had nothing to do with my major. I thought I had signed up for music composition but they told me there was a mixup.”

“Ah, I see.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air, Jisung pulling you into his chest as a large group of students walks out of the lecture hall next to you, saving you from potentially being trampled by the hoard.

“Thanks,” you mumble in a quiet voice, hiding your embarrassment. It doesn't help that you're pressed up against him, your nose picking up on his now familiar scent.

Once you step away, Jisung rubs the back of his neck, his face flushing. “Are you free now? I figured I'd take you out for another fun activity.”

You mentally run through your schedule, grinning when you realize that this was your last class. “Yeah, I'd love to go. Do you have a specific place in mind?”

He beams. “I do. But it's a secret. Meet me at the gate in five?”

Clutching onto the straps of your backpack, you nod. “Sure, I'll be there.”

As the two of you part ways—not without Jisung affectionately patting your head before running off to the east wing—you don't notice Ryujin glaring at you from the other side of the hall.

She's crouching behind the vending machine in order to stay out of sight as fumes come out of her ears. Yuna, who's standing behind her begins to regret even pointing towards the two of you in the first place.

When she spotted you while walking out of class, she was surprised to see you happily chatting away, excitedly nudging Ryujin with a proud smile.

“Look! Y/N's actually talking to a guy.”

When said guy turned around though, her friend's smile fell, quickly being replaced with a scowl. 

“When did those two get so close?”

Yuna could hear the venom dripping from her tone as she glares a hole into your back. She quietly curses, only now realizing the consequences that would soon unfold. As your roommate, you and Ryujin spent quite a lot of time together, whether by choice or not, and this would likely put a strain on your relationship.

Despite knowing full well that you didn't do anything wrong, the small voice in her head can't help but question your actions. Didn't you know about Ryujin's crush on Jisung? If so, are you doing this on purpose? 

With a sigh, she pats Ryujin on the shoulder, walking off to lecture hall 12. She doesn't have the time to deal with this. At least not now…

eight.

You were never really good at games.

This observation you made as a kid is something you cling onto to this day. As Jisung drags you inside the local arcade, determined for you to have a great time, a deep frown etches itself across your face.

Equipped with a bag full of coins he obtained at the front desk, Jisung smiles like a little kid, and you could've sworn you saw sparkles in his eyes.

“Ta-da! This is my favorite hangout spot. I used to come here all the time with my friends during middle school and high school,” he explains, the words rolling off his tongue in excitement. “It still looks the same as it did all those years ago…”

His tone takes on a more sorrowful, almost nostalgic timbre as he scans the place with glossy eyes. “I have so many memories attached to this place.”

“Well,” you take a step closer to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “How about you make some new memories?”

The smile returns to his face and his eyes sparkle in excitement. “I'd like that very much.”

For the following two hours, Jisung kicks your ass in various arcade games. It's almost unbelievable how many times you've lost—no one should be allowed to be so terrible at air hockey—but for some reason, you are. 

Unfortunately, you aren't blessed with a short reaction time and fast reflexes. But Jisung doesn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, he seems to relish in your inexperience, taking on the job of guiding you through various games, almost as if he was some wise troll living under a bridge, ready to give you precious tips.

“Look, you have to have a proper stance,” he reminds you for the n-th time, standing behind you and caging you with his arms as he helps you hold the toy machine gun properly. 

“I'm trying, cut me some slack!”

You try to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks as you indulge in the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around you and his toned chest pressing against your back. He wasn't kidding about going to the gym, was he?

“I know, sorry,” he chuckles, and the sound goes straight to your tummy. You can feel the vibrations through the thin layers of clothing separating the two of you.

Once he steps back, you position yourself in front of the screen as you try to mimic his movements, shooting at all the zombies that appeared when he pressed ‘start’.

“Would you look at that,” he grins, reading the number on display after one of the undead creatures bit your leg and your avatar dies. “Not bad, that's double your score from the last game.”

You pout, “But I still suck. Look at you, you broke the record,” you point towards his screen which is now filled with confetti as Jisung just scored the highest amount of points. 

“Well,” he puffs up his chest, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I've had a lot of practice so it's no wonder I'm pretty good.”

Then, with a gentle tone, he adds, “So don't worry about it. You'll do better next time!”

‘Next time’... his words echo in your head. Was it just something that unconsciously slipped past his lips out of habit or does he really plan to take you here another time?

After the zombie game, you're dragged to the basketball hoops where Jisung proves himself to be extraordinary at those too. His motions are fluid yet fast and you can see the muscles in his arms flexing as throws the ball into the hoop over and over again, never missing. 

“Look! I got thirty in a row,” he yells with excitement, causing you to roll your eyes at his childish antics. But you can't deny that his joy was infectious and somewhat adorable. Your smile only lasts so long before you hear a loud groan of pain.

Turning around, you spot Jisung on the floor, holding a hand to his cheek.

“A-Are you okay?” the words spill from your lips faster than your brain can comprehend them. Although you saw what happened, it still worries you that Jisung keeps covering his face, almost as if hiding from you.

Did it hurt that bad?

In reality, Jisung is just embarrassed that the basketball hit him square in the face in the split second he turned around to face you. All he wanted to do was impress you but instead, he wound up looking like a fool.

His face burns in humiliation as he slowly stands up, hand still covering the left half of his face. You carefully walk up to him, nothing but concern etched in your features, as you gently peel his hand away, releasing a puff of air as you watch his cheek tint a purplish-blue.

“If we don't ice it, it'll bruise,” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you asses the situation. “Have a seat, I'll go ask them for an ice pack.”

With shame coursing through his him, Jisung obliges, plopping himself into the plastic chair. A minute or two passes before you return, running with the ice pack secure in your hand. And maybe it was the adrenaline pumping in his veins but he's never seen someone look as breathtaking as you did at that moment, hair mused and panting like you just ran a marathon.

He's about to stand up and take the ice pack from you but you gently push him back into his seat, your palm reaching to cup his face.

“Does it still hurt?” you ask in a tone so tender it has him dizzy. When he shakes his head, you tilt his chin upwards, quietly examining the small bruise, running your thumb over it with a sigh. “You need to be more careful.”

He winces when you suddenly press the cold packet to his face, a hiss leaving his parted lips. 

“Here, hold this for a bit longer, I'll go grab you some water.”

“Thanks.”

After a while, Jisung manages to convince you that he's okay, insisting that you shouldn't cut your night short because of a measly bruise. The two of you play a couple more games (he kicks you ass in every one of them) before moving on to the last activity—the dance machine.

Although not as popular as it used to be, Jisung still adores DDR. It was always one of his favorite games and the corners of his lips twitch when he notices you staring at the thing like it was some futuristic spacecraft.

“Are you sure you want me to get on this death machine?” there are traces of disbelief evident in your tone and Jisung finds it wholly amusing.

“It's not a death machine, it's a dance machine,” he corrects. “Come on, it's a lot of fun. I promise,” he pouts, grabbing your hand. Unable to resist his pleas, you carefully step into the box, feeling a little bit queasy. 

“Are you sure this is stable?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, “Yes. Now, c'mon, scaredy cat. I'm challenging you to a dance off!”

The first couple of rounds go exactly how you expected them to go. You outright lose every single time, falling prey to the usual case of jelly-legs and Jisung seems to particularly enjoy watching you wobble around like a drunk lunatic.

But after a while, you begin to get a hang of it. You don't stumble around as much and you aren't as tired after every dance. Jisung notices your slow but steady progress and a smile blossoms across his face.

Your determination to succeed is endearing.

He isn't sure what prompted him to do so, but during the last dance, when you both were neck and neck, he allowed himself to fumble, stepping on the wrong square as a result. The expression on your face is priceless, pure unfiltered joy as you revel in the close victory.

And he knows that if he had the choice to see you happy like this, he'd do it all over again.

nine.

It slowly becomes routine for you to take a seat on the wooden stool and gaze into the camera as Jisung asks you questions. And to your surprise, it also grows into something you look forward to. 

You no longer feel like you're being picked apart by his curious gaze, instead, you find traces of understanding behind Jisung's sparkly eyes.

“So, Y/N,” he begins the recording with his signature cough to draw your attention away from the posters of famous musicians plastered along his walls. “How do you feel about today's date?”

Despite Jisung having referred to your outings as ‘dates’ multiple times now, it still makes your heart flutter like a middle schooler's. You turn your head to face him as you respond.

“I had a lot of fun today! Arcades were never really my thing and it was the first time I've actually been to one,” you recount with a smile, “But despite that, I had a great time.”

Jisung grins behind the camera, unable to hold in his excitement. “Was there a particular moment that made you feel content or happy?”

You ponder for a bit, biting your lower lips before you answer. “Hmm, I guess the last game, you know, the dancing machine.”

Jisung nods in understanding, scribbling something down in his notebook. “Do you like dancing?”

“Not particularly, but it was the only game I won. Even if you let me win, it still made me happy,” you answer truthfully. Jisung opens his mouth to protest but you quickly cut in. “It's okay, Ji. You don't need to pretend. It was really sweet, you know?”

He flushes when you catch him in his lie, mumbling something under his nose with a pout.

“Was there a moment that made you unhappy or where you felt uneasy?”

You take a moment to think about his question, recalling all the events that occurred today. “Not necessarily, but there was a moment where I felt really worried.”

Jisung watches you intently, breath caught in his throat, hanging onto every word you say as he clutches his notepad in his right hand.

“I got really worried about you when you got hit. I'm glad it didn't bruise too much.”

After a few more questions, Jisung wraps up the interview. When he bends down to pick up the tangled cables, you can't help but glance at him. You are currently respecting the tight fit of his jeans as well as his shoulders that’re on display in the loose tank top he's wearing.

Thankfully, you manage to divert your gaze before he catches you shamelessly checking him out, busying yourself with glancing out the window.

“It's pretty late now, do you wanna head back?”

You nod. “Yeah, I'll probably go now. Thank you for today.”

Jisung waves you off with a grin. “Hope you didn't think you'd get rid of me so soon. I'm walking you home.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, secretly relieved that he offered. You didn't like walking alone in the dark, especially in areas you weren't too acquainted with. You watch Jisung pull on his jacket and grab his keys. He leads you out the door, locking it behind him as the two of you walk into the empty, pitch-black street.

As you're crossing the street, Jisung suddenly speaks up. “You know, I didn't let you win.”

You glance back at him, your fingers gently brushing against each other in the process. His rosy cheeks are a dead giveaway and you reply with a grin, “Yeah sure you didn't.”

Once the two of you arrive in front of your block, an uncomfortable silence settles in the air. Neither of you wants to leave.

Sighing, you turn around to face him, the glimmering streetlamps illuminating his face and casting a gentle glow on his features.

“Thank you for today, Jisung. I had lots of fun.”

The boy runs a hand through his hair, looking away shyly as if contemplating something. Then, his arms move forward as he pulls you into an awkward albeit warm hug, nestling his head in the crook of your neck.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I had fun too.”

You pray Jisung can't hear your heart beating and allow yourself to relax into his arms. Fuck, he smells so nice too.

When you part, both of you slightly flustered, Jisung pipes, “So, erm, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow,” you respond, voice trailing off as you force yourself to conceal the disappointment rolling through you in waves.

As you're walking up the staircase to your apartment, the build-up of the day’s emotions hits you full force, causing you to nearly stumble. It's not sad, on the contrary, you feel happy.

Like actually happy, something you didn't think was possible. Even after parting with Jisung, the feeling of peace and content lingered. You were beginning to understand what Jisung meant by happiness being a visiting friend that unexpectedly popped up when you needed it most.

He brought out the best of you, gently coaxing you out of your shell and allowing you to shine brightly—something nobody has ever done. He knew exactly what to say, how to make you smile, and how to have you forget all the stress that would always weigh down on you.

But the demons of your past still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, telling you that nothing good was meant to last. You tried to shake off the feeling of unease that washed over you as you unlocked your front door.

Something didn't feel right.

As you stepped inside your shared apartment, you piqued your ears. Usually, Ryujin would be yapping away on the phone with one of her friends but you didn't hear anything.

Now that you think about it, it was oddly quiet.

“Ryujin, are you here?” your voice echoed through the room but you didn't hear an answer. Odd.

When you walk into the living room, you finally notice your roommate sitting on the couch with a bag of chips nestled in her lap. She's scrolling through her phone but she doesn't have any headphones on, you note.

“Oh, hey Ryujin,” you greet her nervously. The air in the room feels thick enough to cut with a knife.

“How was your day?” you ask in hopes of stirring up a conversation, cursing your more than lacking small-talk skills. She doesn't respond which kind of worries you. Ryujin is unbelievably chatty and it's very uncharacteristic for her to be quiet.

As you open the fridge to look for take-out, you frown when you see none. 

“Uhm, Ryujin?” you carefully call her name. “You didn't get any take-out? You always get us food on Thursdays?”

It was true, Ryujin always ordered in on Thursdays and you did on Fridays, it was something you established at the beginning of your co-living.

“I did, I just ate it all,” she suddenly replies, an icy edge to her tone.

So she can speak.

“Ooh, um, o-okay, it's no problem,” you laugh it off awkwardly. “Maybe just a heads up next time…”

You retreat back into your room with some hummus and pita bread, not wanting to spend more time in the living room. Ryujin was clearly in a bad mood and you didn't really know how to deal with her sourness. You've never seen her pissed off like this and it makes you wonder what did you do to deserve this kind of treatment.

You plop on your bed, exhausted from everything that happened today. It takes you a few hours of tossing and turning before you finally manage to fall asleep, limbs curled between your sheets and frown etched onto your face.

ten.

The following day starts in the worst way possible. First of all, you slept through your alarm, meaning you had to rush through your routine in order to not be too late. Not to mention that your plans for getting you and Ryujin some coffee to make up are out the window.

You end up being late anyways. 

The professor gives you a curt nod as you briskly walk into the room, feeling everyone's eyes on you. The heat rises to your cheeks as you awkwardly look up, searching for a spot to sit. You catch Ryujin's gaze but if her icy glare isn't enough to deter you, the fact that she places her backpack on the empty spot beside her definitely is.

You nervously bite your lip, scanning the room for an empty seat. Finally, you notice the spot all the way to the right. It's a bit far too away from the board for your taste but you don't really have much of a choice, do you?

During the lecture, you're unable to concentrate on a single word your professor says, your mind running at a hundred miles per minute. You steal a few glances at Ryujin, feeling the unease swirl in your insides into a cocktail of doubt.

Were you really that dense? Did you do something to anger her?

After class, Ryujin rushes out the door before you even manage to pack up, trampling any of your hopes to talk it out.

You spend the rest of your afternoon strolling through campus like a ghost. Your evening class was canceled due to a special lecture that would be held in the auditorium.

Apparently, the school's prized alumni was going to be one of the speakers and the entire student body would be there. Safe to say, you weren't necessarily looking forward to it. Large crowds weren't really your thing.

eleven.

The lecture ends up being a complete sham and you regret staying on campus for the entire afternoon just to hear the principal yap about the university's achievements. An uncomfortable ick accompanies you the entire time, likely from Ryujin staring a hole into your back but you shrug it off.

Once the lecture ends, you sling your bag across your shoulder and prepare to return. From the other side of the auditorium, Jisung spots you, a grin breaking out on his face.

You don't notice him though. You don't even notice the group of guys walking in the opposite directions until you accidentally bump into one of them, the drink in his hand spilling on your shirt and the floor.

“What the fuck?!” the guy grumbles, glaring at his now half-empty cup.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you mumble, grimacing at the splotch forming on your shirt. This was definitely going to stain. “I-I didn't mean to—”

“Next time watch where the fuck you're going,” he scoffs, despite the fact that his soda was now splattered on your shirt, not his. 

As he walks off with his friends, it takes everything in you to hold in the scream of frustration. Why was he so rude? It's not like you did it on purpose, not to mention he was just as much at fault as you were.

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, blinking away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. This is too much for you to handle in one day.

As you look up, your eyes met with Jisung's. His usual smile is gone having witnessed what just happened. Instead, he's looking at you with pity.

Oh God, you're so embarrassed.

Just as he begins walking towards you, you turn around and head in the other direction, not wanting to face him. Not like this.

You manage to get to the small park in front of your campus before he finally catches up with you, grabbing your shoulder.

“W-Wait, Y/N,” he pants, “are you okay?”

You try to shake off his hand, looking away. You didn't want him to see you like this knowing full well that you were mere seconds away from a breakdown.

“Please, just go, Jisung.”

His heart cracks when he hears the misery in your tone. Like you're just fed up with everything. Your eyes are red and he can see the tears forming in them like you're holding them in. “I-I don't want you to see me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Looking pathetic,” you sniffle. “I don't want you to see me cry.”

“It's not pathetic to cry, you know?”

For the first time, you risk looking up at him, lips trembling. When you see the concern etched over his face, the worry in his eyes, you can't hold it in anymore.

You let the dam break as you burst into tears. “W-Why, why do I feel so pathetic then, Ji?” you ask, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. You begin to shake as sobs wrack through your body.

“W-Why do I feel so small? Why does it hurt s-so damn much?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Jisung is damn close to tears himself as he drops his bag on the ground, gently pulling you into a hug. He gently coaxes you to sit down with him on the grass, never breaking off the hug as he rubs soothing circles onto your back with his thumb.

And it's truly a different experience to have someone comfort you when you're at your lowest instead of muffling your sounds as you cry yourself to sleep. Jisung stays with you as you wail, all the suppressed sadness and frustration bursting inside of you. It was long overdue, you realize, and it makes you appreciate the fact that you aren't alone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently after some time has passed. 

“You're gonna think I'm being unreasonable,” you sniffle, hiding in the crook of his neck.

A chuckle escapes his lips. “C'mon, Y/N, you know that's not true. I'd never think less of you for experiencing pain and sadness.”

“I just… everything that happened, it was too much for me to—,” you gulp, willing yourself to squeeze the words out. “It was too much for me to handle.”

“Was it school or family related?”

“Not really,” you reply. “I had an argument with my roommate. She just stopped talking to me yesterday and she's obviously pissed. I'm just upset because—”

“—you're upset cause you have no idea why she's acting like that, right?”

You look up at him in surprise, shocked that he guessed correctly. “Y-Yeah. It makes me really uncomfortable when people are angry with me and don't tell me why.” 

Perhaps it's the people-pleaser in you that brings out this side of you. The one that despises when people don't like you. The crippling desire for everyone to love you. You always knew it would become a burden one day.

“Trust me, I know that feeling,” Jisung sighs, running a hand through his hair. “The desire to be loved and wanted by everyone… yeah.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you hand absentmindedly plays with the grass, tugging and twisting it. Your tears have since dried out, leaving a thin, shiny film on your cheeks.

“You know, I used to be like this—and honestly, still kinda am—when I felt like I wasn't loved.”

Jisung lets the words hang in the air before turning around to face you. The melancholic look in his eyes is replaced with one of conviction as he gently tilts your chin upwards. “I just hope that you know you are loved. People around you care for you, even if you can't see it. You're never a burden, Y/N, ever.”

Your eyes begin to water at his words, hands crumpling into the sleeves of his jacket as you try to ground yourself. Jisung had managed to hit all your vulnerable spots with his reassurance and it makes you feel… understood. It gives you hope, in a weird way, that someone so cheerful and happy knows the heartwrenching pain that comes with the feelings of being a burden. 

It gives you hope that you can get better. That one day, after weeks, months, perhaps years of working on yourself, you can come to love living again. You can be happy and enjoy life without the little voice in your head that follows you around and tells you that nothing good ever lasts.

“Jisung, I-I,” the words die in your throat as you swallow hard. There literally on the tip of your tongue yet you're unable to squeeze them out.

“I-I… thank you,” you finally croak, burying your head in the crook of his neck. You're crying, again, but it's different this time. With every sob that leaves your parted lips, every tear that trickles down your cheek and every tremble of your body, you feel all the bottled-up pain and suffering lift from your soul.

The wails of misery become sobs of relief, and it feels like a massive weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

It takes at least half an hour for your breathing to return to normal. You think it's impossible to cry any more, like you have no more tears left. Somewhere along the way, Jisung beginns sniffling too and soon, both your sobs turned into small giggles. 

“I… I don't think I've cried this much in my life,” you mumble under your breath, causing him to chuckle. 

“Did it help you get it all out? Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah. Um, I think I really needed this. Oh- and, sorry you had to listen to all of… all of my troubles,” you add, suddenly a bit embarrassed when you notice how much your tears soaked through the material of his shirt.

“It's okay, I'm glad I was able to help.”

After a beat of silence, he suddenly chimes, “I have an idea. There's a convenience store near here that's open 24/7. We can go get some ice cream and swing on the swings. It's a really nice place, I go there often when I want to clear my head.”

You frown, “Are you sure you don't mind though? It's getting pretty late…”

“Not at all. C'mon, I'm sure you'll love it!”

twelve.

Jisung carefully hands you the unwrapped melona ice cream before taking a seat on the neighboring swing.

You thank him with a smile, pulling your knees closer together as you gently begin to sway back and forth. The breezy wind ruffles your hair, a refreshing chill passing through your body.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you shift your attention to Jisung who is currently nibbling on his ice cream as he peers at you with a concerned but curious gaze. Cute.

“Um… any tips for making up with someone when you don't know what you did in the first place?”

“Ah,” Jisung nods in understanding, “it's about your roommate, isn't it? Is it the one with short hair? The one that kept glaring at you during the lecture?”

There's an air of confusion in his tone, his brows furrowing as if he's trying his hardest to conjure up a picture in his head. Then, his eyes flash. “I think her name was Rina, or no, Ryuna…”

“Ryujin,” you correct him, taking another bite of your ice cream. “Yeah, dark blue hair, that's her.”

“So what happened?”

You take a deep breath, allowing all the memories from the previous night to run through your mind, wincing. “Honestly, it wasn't even that big of a deal I guess and I may have overreacted,” you whisper, looking ahead with glossy eyes. “It just made me really upset—she just completely ignored me when I got home and gave me the cold shoulder. We have this deal where she gets us take-out on Thursdays and I get it on Fridays but she made a point to emphasize that she got some for herself but not for me.”

You exhale through your nose as the wind picks up, snuggling into Jisung's bomber. “I know this sounds ridiculous, and honestly, that's exactly how I feel right now… but this isn't like Ryujin. We may not see eye to eye on most things, but eating take-out while binging whatever new trash netflix put out—it was our special thing.”

Jisung stays silent for a moment, twirling the wooden stick in his hands before looking at you. “You don't sound ridiculous at all, it definitely seems like she's upset about something. Did you try talking to her?”

You shake your head solemnly. “I tried—I was hoping to get her coffee on our way to class but I slept through my alarm so I only saw her after I stormed into class ten minutes late. There were barely any seats left but she put her backpack on the empty spot next to her so I got the memo.”

The bitterness in your tone is clear as day and Jisung instantly picks up on the way you clench your hands into fists. “I get that she didn't want to talk to me, it makes me sad but I get it. What I don't get is why she did that despite knowing how much I hate being thrust into the spotlight.”

You turn around to face Jisung, your eyes welling up with tears. “I felt so pathetic standing at the front of the class with my hair all over the place, as everyone stared at me. I just wanted to curl myself into a tiny ball and disappear. The professor never bothered to learn my name, but I'm sure she'll now remember me as the student who stormed in late.”

From his position on the swing next to yours, Jisung awkwardly moves his hand to pat you on the back in an attempt to comfort you. You hastily wipe the tears that began to gather in the corners of your eyes with the sleeve of his bomber.

“And then that stupid asshole in the hallway spilled his soda all over me! God, I wanted to punch him,” you groan, causing Jisung to chuckle.

“Hey, so I know it probably doesn't mean much but for all it's worth, I really think you should cut yourself some slack. You clearly had a hard day and you shouldn't fault yourself for feeling what you feel, okay?”

Your hands drop to your lap as you nervously tug at the sleeves of his jacket. “Thank you, Ji. For everything… it means a lot.”

He pats your head in response, jumping off the swing and landing on his feet. “And regarding your roommate, I think you should give her some space, maybe a day or two and then try to talk to her. She can't ignore you forever, you know?”

“Yeah, I hope you're right.”

Out of all the unusual things that have happened to you in the past two days though, running around the playground at 2 AM definitely takes the cake.

The relatively quiet area is filled with laughter as you and Jisung play tag, race to the top of the climbers, and compete in building the tallest sandcastles in pitch darkness. Eventually, both of you are so out of breath that you decide to lie down on the grass and listen to the hum of the streetlights.

“I think this is the most I've run since gym class back in high school,” Jisung laughs, the sound light and airy. You heave out a breath before nodding.

“Same here. Last time I've been so out of breath was during my high school's relay race.”

Jisung lets out a puff of air. “Time flies doesn’t it? Feels like yesterday when I was filling out my college apps.”

You nod in silent agreement, picking at the grass with nimble fingers. You watch Jisung turn his back towards you, shuffling. You can see the muscles flexing in his back, indicating that his hands are moving.

“Whatcha doing?” you try to peek over his shoulder but he stops you with a whine. 

“Wait, I'm almost done.”

Jisung's ‘almost done’ turns out to be ten minutes later when he turns around with a grin, holding what seems to be a flower crown. You squint your eyes, making sure you aren't seeing things but it seems to be one indeed. Cute.

Jisung springs up, excitement rolling off of him as he proudly presents you with his creation. “Do you like it?”

Your lips curl into a smile as you slowly sit up, gently taking the flower crown from his hands. “It's beautiful,” you mumble, looking at it in awe. He even added some bellflowers to make it stand out more and it causes a wave of warmth to wash over you.

You hold in your breath when Jisung takes the flower crown from your hands, carefully placing it atop your head. 

“Y-You… you look really pretty,” he marvels, the words rolling off his tongue before he even realizes what he's saying. But it's true—you're shining under the moonlight like the prettiest flower and Jisung has to hold in the urge to cup your face and press kisses all over it.

Luckily, he has half a mind not to do so, instead settling on pulling out his phone. “Can I take a picture? I want to have something I can look back at in the future.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks the rawness in his voice. You nod, shyly looking into the camera as he snaps a few pictures of you. Hopefully, it's dark enough and he'll only be able to make out your features in the photo.

“Oh, damn,” he murmurs, glancing at his watch, furrowing his brows. “It's three in the morning.”

You mirror his expression, scrambling to get up on your feet. “Shit, the buses aren't running anymore.”

As your mind fills with worry, dreading how you'll get back home, Jisung nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Um, my place isn't far and you can stay over if you'd like. I can take the couch and… yeah,” he trails off sheepishly.

He watches you expectantly as you go over all your options in your head. In the end, you come to the conclusion that you don't really have a choice. It's either accept Jisung's generous offer or walk home in the middle of the night for forty-five minutes.

“That would make things a lot easier, thank you.”

Jisung nearly sighs in relief, grinning from ear to ear. He grabs your hand with his, fingers interlocking as he begins running home, laughter bubbling from his throat.

“Hey!” you cry, barely keeping up with his strides, “not so fast!”

thirteen.

When you arrive at Jisung's place, a cold gust of wind greets you, making its way under your jacket.

“Ah, shit,” Jisung curses, rubbing his temples. “I'm sorry, I completely forgot—the heating pipes burst in our building on Wednesday.”

You wave him off. “It's okay, I'm sure we'll manage.”

“I'll bring you some extra blankets,” he reassures, helping you slip out of his bomber and hanging it in the closet. “The bathroom is down the hall to the left.”

You end up washing your face with his cleanser and brushing your teeth with a spare toothbrush you found under his sink. Once you emerge, you find Jisung standing by the door, a blush coating his cheeks.

“Um, I wasn't really sure what to give you but I found these,” he hands you an oversized t-shirt. “Y-You don't have to wear it, I just figured you could use something clean since your shirt's all sticky…”

“Oh, thank you,” you look away shyly but accept the item nonetheless. Jisung directs you towards his bedroom and you notice the crisp clean sheets and the heap of blankets thrown on top. 

“I hope that's enough, I couldn't find any other ones,” he apologizes, pointing towards the mountain of covers. 

You hold in a snort, faking a sad tone. “Hmm, I'm not sure that'll do.”

“Oh,” Jisung looks away with a frown, “I-I'll try to look for some more in the cupboard…”

“It's okay, Jisung, I'm joking,” you can no longer keep a straight face, giggling at how cluelessly he looks at you. “I think I'll be nice and toasty.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, so I'll let you change now, uh, call me if you need something.”

With that, he closes the door behind him, leaving you alone in the room. You take a moment to look around, taking in his bedroom. Despite having been in his place multiple times, you've never stepped foot in here.

It looks exactly the way you'd expected it to; monochromatic palette with pops of color here and there, posters of famous rappers plastered onto the walls and a queen-sized bed in the middle. Everything in here screams Jisung—especially the small pile of laundry in the corner of his room.

As you're changing, your exhaustion starts catching up with you, and you feel the weariness setting in your limbs. You hit the pillows with a tired groan, snuggling into the duvet. 

“Can I come in?” you hear Jisung knocking on the door just as you're struggling to slide under the pile of blankets. “Yeah, come in.”

His head peeks through the door as he enters, unable to hold in his laughter as he watches you wrestle the sheets. “You want some help with that?”

You nod, embarrassed that he caught you brawling with the sheets like a toddler. “Um, y-yeah.”

It's only then that you notice the small tray in his hands. He walks up to the bed, clearing his night table before placing a glass of warm milk and some cookies on the surface. 

He turns around to face you, running a hand through his hair as he holds in a groan. Seeing you like this—tucked under a stash of blankets on his bed… yeah, it messed with his mind in more ways than one.

His hands carefully reach out to grip the blankets, making sure they're all straightened out before pulling them over your chest and tucking them around your shoulders.

“There you go,” he smiles, hoping that you couldn't see the blush blossoming on his cheeks. “All set. I brought you some warm milk and a snack in case you have trouble falling asleep. You can call me if you need anything.”

Your heart clenches at the sweet gesture and you feel warmth pooling in your belly. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the couch in the living room. To your horror, you notice it's empty. There's not a single blanket.

Before you register it, your hand shoots from under the covers, grabbing Jisung's wrist. “W-Wait!”

He looks at you, visibly confused; is everything okay? He could see how tired you were, barely keeping your eyes open. “Is everything okay?”

You nervously bite your lip before mumbling, “Where are your blankets?”

Even in your sleepy haze, he can make out the clear concern in your voice and it tugs at his heartstrings. “Oh,” he chuckles, not knowing what to answer, “um, I'll be okay without them, I have my hoodie, see.”

He points to the ridiculously oversized black hoodie hanging over his frame and you let out a scoff. “Bullshit! You'll be cold.”

Your blunt delivery makes him smile, not used to seeing such a grumpy side of you. And it's adorable, especially, when you're all snuggled up in his bed with droopy eyes, pouting at him like he just snatched your favorite plushie. 

That goddamn fucking pout.

Inhaling, he tries to bury those thoughts back into the dark corner of his mind. “It's okay, I'm sure I'll be fine.”

Suddenly, he feels your fingers wrap around his wrist once again.

“Stay. Please…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper—he almost believes he just imagined it but your hand on his is proof that it isn't just all in his head. You really were holding on to him, asking him to stay. It makes his heart do backflips inside his chest.

He glances back at you, an odd gleam in his eyes as he bites his lip. “Are you sure you don't mind?”

When you nod vigorously, shuffling to the side to free some space for him, Jisung catches himself sighing in relief. You're right, his hoodie and the single throw blanket on his couch wouldn't keep him warm through the night. The idea of sleeping on his bed with a heap of blankets definitely seems like a better option.

Especially next to you.

You lazily pat the space next to you, stifling a yawn. “Come on, it's really cozy.”

“If you insist,” he replies as if he wasn't elated about the fact that you asked him to stay. “Just a warning, I'm a blanket hogger. You may wake up without a blanket in the middle of the night.”

The next thing you say makes him blush like a tomato. 

“Well, I guess I'll just have to stay really close to you.”

Jisung swears that he never had such a severe case of butterflies in his stomach.

And that night, he sleeps the best he's ever had in the past few months, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep in no time. Especially when you curled yourself into his chest, hands clutching onto his shirt.

That night, Jisung feels like he truly isn't alone anymore.

fourteen.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you slide your key into the keyhole, unlocking the door. You feel like it's a deja vu, almost like Thursday evening all over again. You hate to admit it but you're worried.

What if Ryujin is still angry with you? What if she won't hear you out?

You bury those thoughts into the back of your mind, focusing on the task in front of you. You ended up sleeping over at Jisung's and he was kind enough to prepare you some pancakes earlier today so at least you weren't going into this on an empty stomach. 

When you step inside, the aroma of noodles and soy sauce immediately hits your nose. You take off your shoes and place them by the door, paddling inside. 

“Did you get take-out?”

The words roll off your tongue automatically before you even register it. You peek inside of the kitchen to find Ryujin staring at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N! Where were you?”

She drops the bag in her hand on the floor in favor of pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “R-Ryujin,” you gasp, barely able to breathe. This isn't like her—overdramatic displays of affection were only reserved for her closest friends.

There's a mixture of anger and frustration in her tone, but you can clearly see the worry pooling in her eyes. “Why didn't you answer your phone?”

Once she finally releases you, you dig into your bag and pull out your phone, tapping on the screen to show her. “My battery died.”

“Why didn't you come home last night? I was so worried when you didn't show up…”

“Well, you made it pretty clear that you didn't want to talk to me, don't you think?” You don't mean for it to sound so bitter but fuck it, you meant every word of it. You were hurt. “You ignored me all day and I still don't know why. Did I do something wrong?”

Ryujin sighs, running a hand through her blue hair. “I know it's really childish but it hurt me. It hurt me to see you with him, laughing like you were longtime friends after I had spent so much time pinning over him.”

You frown, grabbing a chair from your dining table. “With whom? Jisung?”

“Yeah,” she nods, casting her gaze on the ground. “I know you have every right to talk to him… I just… I don't know,” she pokes her tongue against her cheek, releasing a puff of air. “I felt betrayed, I guess… I was jealous that you were suddenly so close with the guy I've had a crush on for ages.”

Simultaneously, your eyes widen and your jaw drops as you stare at Ryujin like she just told you she won the lottery.

“You what?!” you exclaim, your voice rising. “Jisung is the guy you've been going on and on about?”

Ryujin clicks her tongue. “You don't need to pretend like you don't know, you know.”

“No, no, wait!” you splutter, waving your hands frantically in the air. “You never told me it was him. It was always just a ‘mysterious guy with a guitar’,” you make air quotes with your fingers. “Hell, I didn't even know Jisung played the guitar.”

Something akin to regret flashes in Ryujin's eyes as she whispers, shocked, “So you had no idea?”

You reach your hand across the table to grab hers, vigorously shaking your head. “I swear. You never told me his name. I just assumed it was one of the seniors in the music department.”

“Oh fuck! I'm so sorry, Y/N,” she croaks, interlacing her fingers with yours. “I-I thought you knew. And even if you did, it would be none of my business either but still…” she trails off solemnly, suddenly realizing how horribly she behaved. “And I acted like such a bitch towards you…”

You can hear the regret in her tone. She's clearly shaken up, but that doesn't take away from the fact that she hurt you. She acted hostile towards you out of jealousy, causing you to have a mental breakdown in the middle of the night. Nonetheless, you feel your heart clench as you watch her sniffle, blinking away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. 

Swallowing hard, you reach out to pat her shoulder. “It's okay, you don't have to cry. I can tell you feel bad and honestly, I'm just happy we cleared up the misunderstanding.”

“Thanks. I honestly feel like crap for how I've treated you. I guess I just deluded myself into thinking that what I did was justified. Jealousy really does a number on you, you know,” she chuckles bitterly, looking away.

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Ryujin fumbles with her hands in her lap, biting her lip before she gathers enough courage to ask, “Y-You were with him last night, weren't you?”

You look away in embarrassment and it's all the proof she needs to know that her assumption was right. “I… I was in a pretty rough spot after our argument and he comforted me. By the time I was ready to head back, it was really late so he suggested I just stay over at his place…”

She stays quiet for a bit, inhaling as she looks up. “I'm sorry, Y/N. I really am. I'm sorry I wasn't there to comfort you—I'm sorry to be the cause of your pain in the first place.”

Your lips curl into a small smile. “It's okay. I won't hold it against you.”

She rests her arms on the sides of the chair to push herself up, walking up to the counter. “You must be hungry,” she muses, pulling out two plates from the cupboard and setting them along with the noodles on the table.

“Thanks,” you murmur, opening the box and unceremoniously dumping it's contents on your plate. The two of you eat in silence until Ryujin speaks up again. This time, you nearly choke of your food.

“Does he make you happy?”

It takes you a moment to process her words and as you're making sense of her question, her eyes are fixed on your, gauging your reaction. “I want to know your honest answer.”

You swallow the noodles in your mouth before opening your mouth, closing it again as no words come out. You're speechless.

“I-I… Y-Yeah. He makes me really happy,” you admit, looking away. “Thinking about him just makes me want to smile and I finally feel like I'm…” you cringe at the word you're about to say.

“I finally feel understood—like he knows exactly how I feel…”

Ryujin hums, “Then I think you should go for it.”

You splutter, eyes widening as you part your mouth in shock. “What do you mean?”

“I meant exactly what I said, dumbass,” she rolls here eyes.” You should ask him out.”

To say you're confused would be an understatement. How is it that Ryujin, who just minutes ago admitted that she gave you the cold shoulder out of jealousy, is now suggesting that you date said man she was jealous over?

“I-I don't understand,” you blink, making sure you weren't seeing things. Is this some wild dream? Were you gonna wake up any second and find out this has all taken place in dreamland?

“Oh please, even my jealous ass could see how he looks at you.” If there's any bitterness in her tone, she manages to conceal it. “All that sappy shit—like you're his moon and stars or whatever. The point I'm trying to make is that he obviously cares about you.”

“Still, I-I can't do that to you, Ryujin…”

She gazes intently into your eyes, clasping her hands around yours. “I can't allow that, Y/N. I can't allow you to waste a perfect chance like this because of my stupid crush. I always knew nothing would come out of it anyways, you know,” she sighs, looking away. “I'll get over it, okay. It'll take me some time but I promise I'll get over it. And in the meantime, go get em', tiger!”

Before you realize it, tears are already forming at the corners of your eyes. You try your best to blink them away but you're unable to do so. Instead, they begin streaming down your face in steady waterfalls.

“Thank you, Ryujin,” you manage to squeeze out through the curtain of tears. “I really appreciate it.”

Your roommate looks close to tearing up herself. “Nothing to thank me for,” she mumbles, standing up to envelop you in a bone crushing hug. “I'm sorry for how I treated you, I really am.”

You stand there for another few minutes, hugging and crying before she takes a step back. She reaches to pat your shoulder, the corners of her mouth twisting into a sad smile.

“You deserve to be happy. Please never forget that.”

fifteen.

Jisung groans, his biceps flexing as he slowly raises the barbell above his head. He feels his arms begin to shake as he lifts the weight up for the last rep, only making it about half way before he drops it with a grunt. Luckily, Changbin is spotting him today and he manages to catch it before it can do any harm.

“Good job, Jisung,” he smiles, genuinely impressed at his friend's progress. “You must be practicing—you've gotten a lot better.”

“Thanks, man,” Jisung grins, wiping off the sweat from his forehead with a towel. 

Suddenly, his phone pings and he reaches down to grab it from his backpack. He swipes down his notifications until he finds a text from you. You sent him a meme, granted, it was really old and you probably stole it from the r/dankmemes subreddit but it makes him chuckle nonetheless. 

“Who's that?” Changbin's voice suddenly sounds in his ear and it nearly makes him drop his phone. “That person on your wallpaper,” he leans over his shoulder to get a better view of his screen.

Jisung flushes, quickly shutting off his phone. “It's no one.”

“Bullshit, I just saw someone there!”

The heat rises to his cheeks as he squirms under Changbin's gaze, stuffing his phone in his pocket. After all, he did just catch him red-handed. It was sometime last week that Jisung set his wallpaper as a photo of you that he took while you were wearing his flower crown.

“Oh shit,” Changbin suddenly murmurs to himself, eyes flashing in realization. “It's your project volunteer, Y/N, was it? I thought you said you're just friends…”

“We are,” Jisung responds flatly, looking away when Changbin's eyes bore into his head.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Shut up,” Jisung glares at his friend, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Great, now he has another thing to tease him for.

Just as he's walking out of the gym, the tips of his ears flush when he hears Changbin yell, “I'm so going to tell Chan about this!”

sixteen.

You feel an inexplicable wave of warmth wash over you as Jisung grabs your hand, leading you through the crowded street. While walking in front of you, he takes the brunt of the mass of people walking in your direction as you trail behind him.

“We're here,” he declares proudly once you arrive in front of the quaint little café in one of the busier districts. “They have the best milkshakes in the city!”

As you step inside, a warm gust of wind greets you. You look around, taking in the nicely decorated place; it had high ceilings, gold accents sprinkled in the sea of white and brown, and at least two dozens of plants scattered throughout the café.

“Hey, Hyunjin,” Jisung greets the tall guy behind the counter, bumping fists. After greeting his friend, Hyunjin lets his gaze drop to you, giving you a once over.

“And who's this gorgeous doll you brought with you?”

You flush at his words, the heat rising to your cheeks as you look away in embarrassment.

“Hyunjin!” Jisung grumbles, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Stop flirting with every person that walks in here. I'm gonna tell Minho you're disturbing the customers if you don't stop.”

Jisung's threat of calling his manager seems to rush Hyunjin back into reality as he turns pale as a ghost. He masks his humiliation with a loud cough, bowing deeply before he murmurs, “My dearets apologies for hitting on you, valued customer.”

A giggle slips past your lips as you watch him cast his gaze down like a wet puppy, finding the sudden change of character very endearing. “It's okay. Though I must say I'm flattered,” you grin, flipping through the menu.

You end up settling on a vanilla milkshake while Jisung goes for a strawberry one with an ‘extra portion of love’ as Hyunjin calls it. The so-called ‘extra portion of love’ turns out to be some colorful sprinkles on the top. Lame.

“Ahh, this really hit the spot,” Jisung sighs dreamily once the two of you walk out into the evening air, rubbing his tummy like a pregnant woman. 

“No kidding. I'm surprised they aren't any bigger with such great drinks.”

You walk around town for a bit, chatting and enjoying the lively atmosphere and before you even realize it, it's dark. Conversing with Jisung for hours is slowly becoming your favorite past time, you realize. It just feels like the two of you have so much to talk about and there's never a dull moment.

“I have an idea, come with me,” Jisung suddenly pipes, grabbing your hand in his. 

“What is it?”

“It's a secret,” he winks, causing your heart to nearly leap out of your chest. 

You arrive at a gorgeous park with tall, luscious trees fringing the small pathway that lead into the depths of the greenery. The sky is pitch black, towering over you in all its glory.

“I sometimes come here at night to look at the sky,” Jisung comments, plopping down on the grass. “C'mon,” he pats the spot next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

The both of you lay down, Jisung sneaking his hand around your neck to pull you into his side. Inhaling, you pick up on the faint scent of his cologne which causes your head to spin. The light wind ruffles his hair, causing a few strands to tickle your forehead.

“What is it?” Jisung asks when he hears you giggle, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching.

“Nothing,” you look away, the heat rising to your cheeks from his intent gaze. “It's just that your hair is so… fluffy.”

This time, it's Jisung's turn to become flustered. He nearly wants to eat his fist—you're so damn cute. When shifts his focus back onto the sea of darkness above him, a sigh escapes his parted lips. 

Pressed into his side, you watch his chest rise and fall, admiring the subtle curve of his lips. The stars above you glow in the dusk, illuminating his face with a gentle shimmer.

“The sky's so pretty,” you breathe out, marveling at the beauty. It was rare for you to be able to see the stars in the city with all the smog and fumes.

“Not as pretty as you though,” Jisung simpers, chuckling when you hit his shoulder.

“You're cheesier than a fondue pot, do you know that?” you scoff, hoping to disguise your embarrassment with a mask of indifference. “Who even says stuff like that nowadays, seriously?”

Jisung smirks, immediately seeing through your facade. “Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you look away. You don't have an answer to that. Worried that he has gone too far, Jisung nervously nibbles on his lower lip, wanting to smack himself in the face.

Why does he always do this when he's around you? It's almost as if all his sanity just decides to leave whenever he's with you. Luckily, after a few minutes pass, he feels you relax back into his hold.

He looks back up at the sky before raising the hand that's wrapped around you and excitedly pointing at one of the constellations above you.

“Look, there's the Big Dipper. And there's Aquarius and Polaris,” he announces proudly as his pointer finger moves along the many constellations in the sky.

“Um, Jisung,” you giggle, “I hate to break it to you but that's not their names.”

It's not like you're particularly well versed in astrology but even you know enough to disprove his claims.

“Y/N,” he whines, his lips forming a small pout. “Couldn't you have at least pretended to agree? It's called fake stargazing; I pretend to know all the constellations in the sky and you act impressed with my deep knowledge of the stars.”

“Okay, weirdo,” you chuckle. “Go on, now's your chance to impress me.”

seventeen.

After you fake stargazing escapades, Jisung takes you on a midnight drive. He drives outside of the city, going down the small roads on the outskirts of town. It's almost magical, in a sense—blasting music through the speakers and shouting the lyrics of your favorite songs. 

As the night progresses, the chilly air begins to send shivers down your spine. “Are you cold?” Jisung asks, keeping his gaze on the road ahead of him.

You rub your shoulders, murmuring, “Yeah.”

“Take this,” his right hand reaches behind into the backseat and pulls out his bomber. You accept the piece of clothing with a quiet ‘thanks’ and you slide the jacket on, immediately feeling enveloped by warmth.

The heat rises to your cheeks when you suddenly feel a light pressure on your inner thigh. You glance at Jisung but his eyes are trained ahead of him, left hand securely on the wheel while his right hand begins to gently rub the spot, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

When you look away, Jisung allows his lips to curl into a coy smile.

eighteen.

It's past midnight. You should be long asleep by now but you're way too busy scrolling through your camera roll to even think about that. 

A few months have passed since Jisung ambushed you and Yuna after your shared lecture, begging for you to be his project volunteer. While you have no idea what came over you and why you even agreed in the first place, you were now so glad you did.

The wave of emotions washes over you like the ocean tide on a stormy night. Unexpected and fierce yet there's a softer element to it. You feel your heart swell as you swipe through the photos of the two of you, all of your shared memories trickling back to you.

Whether it was a picture of him throwing darts at the theme park or slurping ramen at a nearby convenience store at three in the morning—all of these photos became your treasured remembrances of the time you spent together.

There's one particular video you stumble across that makes you break out into a grin. You were downtown, strolling through the streets when you suddenly saw someone busking. Jisung immediately grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the performer, not wanting to miss it.

The guy looked to be around your age, perhaps a year or two younger. His voice was amazing, you and everyone else around you knew that. The fire in his eyes and the way his knuckles turned white from gripping in the microphone as he sang the song made his performance stand out amongst all the other buskers in the area.

He was singing ‘Dusk till Dawn’ and from the corner of your eye, you could see Jisung mouthing along to the lyrics while clapping his hands. And it seems like the guy noticed too.

Pressing pause on the song, he pulled out an extra mic from his backpack, handing it to Jisung. 

Jisung stared at it for a few seconds before it sunk in, finally breaking into a grin and taking the microphone from his hand. He joined him at the front of the stage as the performer resumed the song, this time with Jisung singing along.

You nearly teared up watching them harmonize, both of their voices perfectly blending together. As the crowd cheered them up, you pulled out your phone, pressing the record button on your camera just like everyone around you.

Towards the end of the song, as he sang the final notes, his eyes found yours in the crowd, holding eye contact until the end. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest along with the heavy bass drumming in the air and it was electrifying. 

“But you'll never be alone I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn Baby, I am right here”

You felt like someone stole the air from your lungs as you gasped when they finished, everyone around you bursting into applause. But you were frozen to your spot, unable to move a single muscle.

That was the day. That was the day you truly knew you had fallen for Han Jisung.

nineteen.

Today was the last day of Jisung's project.

You were sad that your time together was coming to an end, secretly wishing for it to go on for longer. How could you not? You had so much fun after all—there was never a dull moment with Jisung around—he made sure of that.

Despite that, you feel the doubts begin to creep into your head, questions like ‘Will he even talk to me after this is over’ or ‘What if he just endured talking to me for his project’ popping up. Your gloomy train of thought is interrupted by a sudden ping of your phone.

Jisung [6:23]: i'm here :3

You [6:24]: k, be there in a sec ^^

You take a moment to breathe in, smoothing down the creases of your pretty blouse. You bought it a few days ago, deciding to spoil yourself when Jisung told you to wear something fancy for your last ‘date’.

Swallowing, you grab your bag, re-touching your hair in the mirror before closing the door to your room.

“Good luck, Y/N,” Ryujin shouts from behind the couch, giving you a thumbs up. “You look great!”

Your lips curve into a smile as you wave, “Thanks, Ryujin. Bye.”

When you step out, you find Jisung in front of your house leaning against his car. The sight makes the heat rise to your cheeks—he surely cleaned up nice.

His form-fitting black jeans do a great job of defining his thighs and the crisp tucked-in button-down accentuates his snatched waist. It should be illegal for him to look so good.

“Hey there, darlin',” he grins, pocketing his phone as he pulls you in for a hug. His strong arms wrapped around you make you feel dizzy and you try to focus on the familiar scent of his cologne to ground yourself.

“H-Hi.”

“So,” he clasps his hands together in excitement, “are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you whisper breathlessly, clutching your bag. Jisung walks up to the passenger side, opening the door for you which causes your heart to do somersaults in your chest. “Thanks.”

Once inside, he starts the engine, backing out of the parking spot with his elbow against the headrest as he looks behind to make sure there aren't any cars. For some reason, you find that incredibly attractive.

During the ride, both of you stay quiet for the most part, only exchanging greetings and switching up the radio stations. Jisung keeps his eyes trained on the road, pretty ring-clad fingers strumming against the driver's wheel.

“Aren't you at least a little bit curious about where we're going?” he suddenly asks without looking away. Fiddling with the sleeves of your blouse, you mumble, “I am. I just figured you wanted to keep it a surprise.”

“Fair enough,” he cocks his head, taking another turn. A few minutes pass before you arrive. Jisung pulls up to a local movie theater, turning around and placing his hand on your thigh. “We're here.”

He helps you out of the passenger's seat, locking the car as the two of you walk inside. Immediately, you're greeted with a cold gust of wind that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand. You walk up to the counter and Jisung pulls out his phone to show the lady behind the counter your reservation.

“Perfect,” she smiles after punching the number into her computer. “To the left, hall number 7.”

Jisung thinks he prepared for this moment enough—he did spend over an hour planning today's date, after all. Yet it seems like there was one thing he didn't account for. An unforeseen variable, if you may. One that's making the color creep to his cheeks.

This isn't a normal movie theater, is it?

The answer is no. It most definitely is not. 

“Oh, well,” you pause, looking away in embarrassment. “This is new.”

Jisung looks over to you, nervously rubbing his hands against the material of his jeans. “Um… at least it looks comfortable,” he cringes at his words, pursing his lips.

You nearly snort, smoothing down your blouse as you look back at him. “You're right, I didn't even think of that. C'mon,” you tug on his hand and plop on the fuzzy cushion, sighing as you begin to sink into the soft material. “It's really comfy.”

And that's how Jisung found himself in a couple's movie theater, sharing a small couch with you. He can barely focus on the movie, his eyes drifting to the side of your face, watching as your eyelashes flutter against your cheek every time you blink in excitement or surprise. 

Hell, why should he even watch the B-list drama when he has a first-row ticket for his own view? The way you react to every scene, lips morphing into soft smiles when you're thrilled or forming into a cute pout when a surprise is revealed—it's all art to him. The purest form of entertainment.

When the movie ends though, he finds himself in hot water. Firstly, he doesn't want to remove his arm from around your shoulder yet, not when you're pressed up to him like that, causing the butterflies in his stomach to flutter. But the next problem he didn't realize would arise…

“So… how did you like the movie?”

Shit. He doesn't remember anything. Jisung was too busy looking at you to even pretend that he's paid any attention to the events unfolding on screen. His heart begins to race as he struggles to come up with a proper answer.

“Y-Yeah, I loved the scenery.”

You giggle as you nuzzle your head into his side, “Right? I loved the pan at the beach towards the end. The view was so pretty!”

He shudders, hands drifting to your waist as he inhales deeply. “I-It was. So so pretty…”

Once the credits roll, you exit the room, walking back towards the car. It's already dark outside, a handful of stars scattered across the dark depths of the sky like tiny crystals.

“So, what're we doing next?” you pipe from beside Jisung, looking at him with a curious gleam in your eyes. “Let me guess, you're taking me to a fancy candlelit dinner, aren't you?”

You're clearly joking—Jisung can tell from the teasing edge to your voice and the way you wiggle your eyebrows. Little do you know, that's actually exactly what he had planned for today.

“Holy, shit,” you whisper once the two of you walk through the main entrance of the restaurant, clutching onto his arm. “That's exactly what you're doing!”

He can't hide the pride bubbling up within him at your reaction. You're looking around in awe, admiring the crystal chandelier hanging in the foyer. A waiter walks up to you, leading you to your reserved table and handing you the menus.

“Wow, Jisung—this place is gorgeous,” you splutter, heat rising to your cheeks as Jisung pulls out the chair for you like a true gentleman and male lead in a cheesy drama. “I almost feel unworthy, are you sure it's okay for people like us to come here?” you whisper playfully, looking around and taking in all the expensive decorations.

Jisung leans over the table to grab your hand, “Don't worry, a friend of mine works here and he assured me we'll be fine. As long as we don't do anything stupid.”

You begin scanning the menu, raising your eyebrow at the obnoxiously high prices. I mean, who'd pay so much for pasta? You were pretty sure you could get a week's worth of groceries for that much.

Nevertheless, Jisung invited you here so you aren't going to say that out loud. You glance back at him, watching his brows furrow as he goes through all the main courses, heart-shaped lips pursing when he lands on something he likes.

Filled with laughter and happiness, your shared dinner comes to an end. Despite the smaller portions, you feel like your stomach is satisfied. Except, there's one little thing missing…

“Would you like some dessert?” the waiter suddenly appears in front of you, handing you the dessert menu. Your mouth waters at the sight—there are so many to choose from, but there's one that particularly stands out. And by the looks of it, Jisung notices it too.

“Mango cheesecake,” he murmurs before catching your gaze, smiling when he notices the way the corners of your lips turn curl up.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Oh, if I may,” the waitress interjects, pointing at the menu. “The mango cheesecake is really filling. We usually suggest couples split it.”

Your lips part in surprise at the fact that she calls you a couple, looking at Jisung nervously. You're surprised to find him in a similar state of distress, his cheeks painted with a soft blush.

“O-Okay, we'll split it then,” he splutters, swallowing hard, but he makes no attempt to correct her. That fact alone makes your heartbeat quicken. Although to be fair, you can see where she's coming from. If you were a random onlooker, you would've assumed that two young people eating at a fancy restaurant and sharing dessert were in fact on a date.

Once the cake arrives, you and Jisung take turns eating spoonfuls of the delicious treat. The way his eyes sparkle makes you giggle. The dessert is gone in a blink of an eye, both you and Jisung sighing blissfully as the last bits of the creamy cheese melt on your tongue.

There's a certain tension in the air, and you struggle to wrap your head around it. Moments like these aren't exactly unusual between the two of you, having spent a lot of time together, but ever since you walked out of the restaurant, something feels… different.

Perhaps it's because of Jisung's firm tone when he insisted on covering the bill—his voice held so much conviction you didn't even bother arguing with him. You've kept quiet for the past few minutes, clutching onto the straps of your bag as you walk side by side, occasionally brushing the tips of your fingers against his.

Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, you murmur. “Thank you for today, Jisung. I had a great time.”

His lips curve into a smile and his shoulders visibly relax, muscles no longer taut like a piano string.

“You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You take a moment to admire his side profile, your gaze dipping down to take in all of his features under the moonlight. His lashes curl gently against his cheeks and you watch him exhale, heart-shaped lips parting. 

When did his jaw become prominent?

When he turns to face you, you snap your head away, heat rising to your cheeks. You mentally curse yourself for allowing him to catch you staring, digging your nails into the palm of your hand.

“Y/N,” he suddenly says, causing you to halt in your tracks. He's looking at you with a fond smile, digging his hands into his pockets.

“So… I know that we became friends under—” he pauses, wrinkling his nose, “—let's just say unusual circumstances, but I really cherish what we have.”

You have half a mind to not break his gaze, a gentle smile decorating your lips. “I guess out first meeting was kind of peculiar. You did, after all, accidentally empty your backpack while talking to me,” your words take on a teasing tone.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “Can't argue with that.”

You purse your lips, ignoring the way your heart rattles against your chest. Why do you feel like you know where this is heading?

“Um, so I guess I wanted to say that despite the fact that I'm terrified of messing up our friendship, I can't keep silent for any longer.”

He gazes at you, uncertainty hanging in the air as you allow his words to sink in.

It suddenly feels like you're underwater, all of your senses dulled. The tranquility abruptly becomes insufferable and you realize that Jisung is waiting for you. He's waiting for you to give him a reason, a sign to continue.

Humming, you extend your palm to his face, gently brushing the pad of your thumb along his cheek. And it's exactly the cue he needs to go on.

“Being with you is the favorite part of my day. Whenever you're around, I just want to smile and be the cause of your happiness,” he breathes out, leaning in closer to you. “And project be damned, I fucking fell for you. I love you, Y/N, I really do.”

There's a new urgency to his voice, almost like a plea, and when you look into his eyes, you see longing. It's a mix of affectionate and hungry like he's been waiting for ages, eyes clouded.

You press yourself closer to him, eliminating any space between you. One of your hands gently brushes against his neck, while the other moves to his waist, finger looping through his belt loop and pulling him impossibly closer. Your lips are a hair's width away from his as you murmur.

“I love you too, Jisung.”

And that's when Jisung decides that even the smallest distance between you is unacceptable. His arms slide around your waist and he pulls you into his chest, sealing your lips with his.

Kissing Jisung feels familiar. It feels right—like it's the only thing you were put on earth to do. You thread your hand through his hair, gently tugging on the locks and you're rewarded with a quiet groan.

The street lamps cast a gentle glow on you; illuminating both your faces. Jisung grabs at your hip, thumb gently kneading the soft flesh over the fabric of your blouse as your lips continue to dance against each other.

His teeth graze your bottom lip causing you to sigh into the kiss, the electrifying sensation of his tongue against yours making you feel dizzy. You snake your hand up his shoulder, greedily cupping his arm and feeling the taut muscles flex under your fingertips. It sends a shiver down your spine.

After what feels like ages, the two of you part, locking eyes.

“You're a great kisser,” you whisper breathlessly, still recovering from the sensation of his lips against yours.

Jisung chuckles in response. “You're not too bad yourself.”

A peaceful silence settles around you as you slide your hand in his, enjoying the warmth that washes over you. That night, Jisung walks you home and gives you a goodnight kiss, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

When you enter the apartment, Ryujin gives you a knowing look once she notices the lovestruck expression on your face and your mused hair.

“I assume the date went well?” she wriggles her brows at you, popping another skittle in her mouth. You nod wordlessly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Y-Yeah, it did.”

She springs off the couch to give you a hug, leading you into your bedroom. “C'mon, give me all the juicy details and don't leave out anything, you hear me,” she threatens playfully, plopping onto your bed.

twenty.

You're standing in front of Jisung's psychology professor's office, nervously clutching his hand. A few days prior, the next day after the fancy dinner and moonlit confession in the middle of the street, you and Jisung had completed the last recording of your journey.

Over the course of time, Jisung had taught you many things. He's helped you become a better version of yourself—one that didn't give up easily but knew when to press pause when needed. You no longer depended on other people for your own happiness, nor did you crave their approval like you used to.

You were by no means all the way there yet, but you felt better. Jisung had suggested you try seeing your school's therapist, reminding you that there's nothing wrong with seeking help when you need it. 

“Go on.” Smiling, you gently nudge him on the shoulder. “He's in there.”

“Thank's for everything, baby,” he kisses you on the cheek before knocking on the door.

“Come in!” his professor rumbles and you flash him a thumbs up.

As you watch him disappear inside the room, a sudden wave of peace washes over you.

You feel like bit by bit, the life you once considered broken was mending back together, like a seamless puzzle. Like a light shined into the darkness, Jisung came into your life and slowly managed to turn it for the better.

A huge weight lifts off your shoulders as the obvious realization seeps into your bones, leaving you content.

You were happier.

You were truly happy.

bonus.

“Shh,” Jeongin shushes the group as they all settle on the bed with Chan in the middle, laptop perched on his lap.

“Jisung is so going to kill you,” Seungmin remarks but the erratic tap of his hand against his thigh gives him away. He's clearly just as curious and impatient as everyone else.

Hyunjin flashes him a grin, “Not if he doesn't know about it.”

“Who's to say we won't tell him though,” Minho chimes, grinning evilly. “I bet you 20 bucks he'll know by the end of the week.”

“Shut up, guys!” Felix cuts in, nudging Chan in the shoulder. “C'mon, play it.”

After inserting the hard drive, Chan clicks onto the folder labled ‘psych final’, holding in his breath as he scrolled through all the files.

“Look! Over there,” Changbin points to one of them called ‘Y/N made me delete :(’.

After pressing play, he relaxes into the pillow, everyone hunching over his shoulder to watch the video. They immediately recognize the setting—it's a clip shot in his living room.

You're sitting on a barstool, an old sheet hung behind you to serve as a backdrop of sorts. In true Jisung fashion, it's very improvisational. You nervously push the hair out of your face as you look behind the camera—presumably at Jisung—and ask. “What am I supposed to say? Do you seriously believe your professor cares that we're dating now?”

Jisung laughs, adjusting the camera before walking towards you, hugging you from behind. “Professor Choi! I just wanted to thank you for giving me so much freedom with the execution of my project. I hope you enjoy it and give me an A+,” he adds, grinning when you look up at him incredulously.

“Seriously?” you whisper, raising a brow. “You're asking for a good grade?”

“Of course,” he replies coyly, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. “I fell in love during this project—this is a historical moment of my life and I also may desperately need that A if I want to continue next semester,” he adds as an afterthought, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

“You're kidding, right?” you crinkle your nose, looking back at the camera. Jisung laughs, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “What the hell, Jisung? What are you doing?” you shriek, trying to pull away.

He laughs hysterically, chasing after your lips. “C'mon, baby, gimme a kiss.”

“No,” you wave your hand in front of you frantically, causing him to miss and kiss your ear instead. “You're gonna cut that out, aren't you?” 

“Only if you kiss me,” he sing songs, smirking at your expression.

“Okay, you dork,” you suddenly sound more serious as you stand up, gently pushing him against the bookshelves. “You wanted a kiss, you get one.”

Jisung squeaks in surprise as you mold your lips to his, the palms of your hands digging into his chest. It only takes him a few seconds to relax into the liplock, his hands caressing your sides.

All of a sudden, the white sheet hanging behind you falls on top of both of you, effectively trapping you together.

“Oh, fuck—” Jisung curses, struggling to steady himself with the sheet covering you.

“Jisung, watch out!” you squeak, tripping on the material and stumbling into his chest. Unprepared, he fumbles, knees giving out under your weight as he falls flat on his ass with you landing on his lap.

Silence. And then you begin laughing hysterically, Jisung joining you soon after. Giggles spill from your lips and your chests heave up and down, out of breath due to the sheet on top of you limiting your air supply. After a minute or two, you finally manage to wrestle yourselves out from under the sheets. Jisung presses a chaste kiss to your lips before jogging up to the camera and stopping the recording.

The room is silent for a bit before Minho suddenly exclaims. “Holy shit, he's so whipped.”

The others nod in agreement, Jeongin and Seungmin snickering at the cheesy scene that seems like it was taken straight out of a rom-com. 

The door suddenly slams open, all seven heads turning around to see who just burst in.

“Who's whipped?”

a/n: tysm if you've come so far!! i'm a bit nervous since this is a lot more personal than usually lol but i'm actually proud of how this turned out. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and letting me know <3 it truly means the world to me :3

[crispy-chan]

Haha it’s that time of the year…. Just turned the big 20 :))) it’s crazy bcs i started this blog at 14 lmao

[thepixelelf]

so I saw you asked for lip balm recs lmao so I just wanted to share my personal faves.

Idk how accessible they are in Canada (? I think you’re in 🇨🇦 if I remember correctly) since minus the Papaw ointment they’re all European brands but my personal fave (recommended to me by my dermatologist) is the second one - the bioderma ultra moisturizing balm. But the papaw cream is very versatile and you can use it on like minor burns etc. so I like that one a lot too. The other too are pretty good, definitely win the “flavor” and smell category lmao but ig that isn’t as important.

Anyway, I hope you have a lovely day 💘

Ahh thank you! I'll definitely search these up lol my lips are splitting as we speak

[thepixelelf]

@crispy-chan I saw this in a store and IMMEDIATELY thought of your recommendation from over three years ago lmao

It wasn't until after I bought it that I looked it up and realized they're two different brands!! How dare insincere marketing trick me rah rah rah

Oh well, let's just hope this one works fine enough and smells nice~

[crispy-chan]

OH MY GOD I LITERALLY THOUGHT OF THIS A FEW WEEKS AGO 😂😭😭🙏

[fellahimedia]

Greta said she was forcibly undressed and israeli guards took photos of her while naked and this is not surprising because when palestinians were released they were talking about this form of assault on tv. I just wonder where theyre sharing these videos of naked palestinians. Among telegram channels? WhatsApp? R they gonna blackmail them the rest of their life and threaten to release their naked photos if they dont become collaborators. Especially with the advent of AI in the mix this is horrible

Whats especially interesting in this article is that the Swedish authorities deliberately downplayed what she went through so she has to speak on it

Greta Thunberg: “They kicked me every time the flag touched my face”

– Greta Thunberg on her days in Israeli captivity Beating, kicking, and threats of being gassed in cages. Greta Thunberg and several others

[fellahimedia]

The iof wrote this on her bag

In between assaults they try to convince her that theyre the good guys

[fellahimedia]

Reminder

Palestinian held without charge dies in Israeli custody

Ahmad Hatem Muhammad Khdeirat becomes the 78th prisoner to die in Israeli custody in two years

[crispy-chan]

Girly pop is moving to a big city for uni :))

[crispy-chan]

It’s kinda late but congrats Jas!! Miss u :(( - kinzavskpop

Aaaaa tysmmm!!!

Its so nice to see familiar ~faces~ (haha only usernames) ❤️

[crispy-chan]

HIII JASSS

HELLOUUUUUUUU

[snowdarkred]

he died for what he believed in

[nicenight]

be the change you want to see i guess

[crispy-chan]

Yall i graduated today aaaaahh

[mahowaga]

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — INTERLUDE I

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc’s best friend yu haibara GENRE: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 1.7k WARNINGS: none, best friend shenanigans with haibara

series masterlist | previous | next

— INTERLUDE I: TWO AND A HALF WEEKS WITHOUT INCIDENT (IF AN INTERROGATION ISN'T CLASSED AS ONE)

(With all due respect to Fushiguro Toji (which is none), you believe, like everyone else, that asking him out was a grave mistake and a terrible, horrible miscalculation on your end. And also, like everyone else, you’re willing to put that piece of history behind you and move on with your life because the Yule Ball is coming up.

Besides, let’s look at the bright side of things: Toji’s rejection, no matter how brutal, has acted as some kind of direct pipeline to you getting to spend time with Nanami Kento after hours every single night without fail.)

“So,” Haibara grins, invading your personal space, “are you going to tell me if you’ve found a date to the Ball?”

You hiss and shove him back, trying to avoid showing him your full face for fear he’ll notice the blush dusting your cheeks. “You’re always up in my business.”

He shrugs with his arms wide open. “I’m your best friend. It’s my right,” he says, a little too self-assuredly.

You want to smack him. Sometimes he can be so insufferable. (You have to hold yourself back as if restraining a rabid dog.)

He’s looking at you with those big brown eyes, his chin resting on his hands. You sigh. 

“Fine, but you first, since you’re obviously asking because you have a date.”

He claps gleefully, leaning close to your ear to whisper, “Ieiri Shoko.”

You jerk back as if electrocuted. “Shoko?” you exclaim in shock. There’s no way Haibara, of all people, was able to bag her as a date for the Ball. You ask him as much, your mouth wide open.

“Because I’m charming,” he replies coolly, sitting back on the plush reclining chair that’s worn from years of use, his arms behind his head. The guy’s quite pleased with himself. He shoots you a playful glance. “You know, your disbelief wounds me.” He presses a hand to his chest.

“Oh please.” You roll your eyes, though you’re beginning to thaw, the beginnings of a smile pricking at the corners of your lips. “I’m just being realistic. I thought she was going with Satoru.” At the mention of the popular Slytherin student’s name, Haibara sits up straight. The expression on his face is emulative. “I beat him to it. Maybe.” He frowns, then shakes his head quickly and slaps on a smile that would make the Cheshire cat proud. “Point is, I told you who I’m going with. Now it’s your turn.”

You groan and slink down on the couch. You want it to swallow you whole. Haibara’s been gunning for you to talk to Kento and while that did happen, it didn’t happen in a socially acceptable way. (How could you ever forget having your first full conversation with Kento while being inside of a staircase’s guts?) Skimming over the fine details seems like a good idea - omission of the truth isn’t lying, is it?

“Okay,” you say, turning to him. You hold up a finger. “If I tell you, you can’t tease me.”

He starts to laugh, melodious, full of joy, like children realizing how high up they can go on a swing set. It’s also slightly menacing, as if he’s thinking of something devious, like a child pushing their friend on a swing so high up and then running away when their friend gets stuck. “Oh, Merlin,” he laughs, clutching his stomach. “It’s not Fushiguro, is it?”

The name hits like a cruise ship just fell on top of you, crushing you into nothing. You reach over and hit his arm. “Not funny!” you cry, trying to reach him as he wiggles away from you. “I told you not to bring that up again!”

He raises his hands in surrender, still laughing uncontrollably. You’re reminded of Kento that night at the music classroom, his shoulders shaking as tears pooled in his eyes. (Men love to laugh at you, it seems.)

“Do you actually believe I’m not going to bring this up every chance I get?” He’s doubling over now, and you’re burying your head in your hands. “This is gold! And I doubt anyone told you, but when you fainted from the stress, I should’ve yelled Timber the way it sounded like someone had just chopped down a whole tree in there. You fell like a log. It reverberated throughout the whole room.”

This is just so funny to him. Your humiliation is a comedy special. How wonderful.

You elbow him, but it does nothing but increase the level of hilarity.

“Oh, man,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach even tighter than before.

At this point, you’re afraid you’ll roll your eyes so far back that you’ll forever be staring at your brain. Your cheeks are hotter than a summer’s day, and you’re really wishing the couch could just gain sentience and realize how hungry it is for a girl reliving the most embarrassing day of her life through her best friend’s eyes.

“Whatever. How did I get to the Hospital Wing?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation somewhere more serious.

(Fail.)

Haibara stops for a moment, looks at your face, then starts laughing again. He’s basically cackling now. “Kento and I had to haul ass,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath.

“What?” You already thought the whole thing was a massive stroke of bad luck, but finding out that Kento had had to carry you to the Hospital Wing is a huge hit to your body and soul.

(That’s it. You’re done. You can’t face him ever again. He’s just been nice to you this whole time out of sheer kindness. You need to do like the fruit and let that man go.)

Haibara nods frantically. You grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Why didn’t you idiots, I don’t know, apparate or use a levitation spell?”

“Because,” he coughs, holding up a hand, “you can’t apparate inside the school, dumbass, and even if we did, you’d probably get splinched, and as for the levitation spell, I guess we weren’t thinking straight.”

You growl and shove him back. “You mean to tell me Kento couldn’t think straight? You, I can understand, but him? That guy is quick on his feet.”

“Maybe he was distracted,” Haibara murmurs, looking around the room as if he’s trying to tell you something. (You’re not a mind reader. That’s Kento.)

You stare at the ceiling and hold your hands out in front of yourself to calm down. “So you two just carried me to the Wing?”

Your best friend nods, looking displeased. “Unfortunately, I got your legs.”

“You sound disappointed,” you deadpan.

“I am,” he says simply. “Kento’s the type to work alone. He doesn’t really do well working in a team, so he would move this way and that, and I’d just have to play guessing games to see where he was going.”

Your jaw drops. You jab a finger into his chest. “Is that why I have bruises on the backs of my legs?”

At this, Haibara sobers up and rubs the back of his neck. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says slowly, “I have bruises on my legs, too. The stairs were a pain.”

Part of you wishes you didn’t hold yourself back from scrapping with him earlier. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You are impossible.”

“You love me anyway,” he says, brushing his shoulder against yours despite your obvious irritation with him.

“Get away from me,” you hiss, but it’s half-hearted. Deep down you know that one day you’ll look back on this and laugh. (Not today, though. Definitely not today.) It’s not worth being mad at Haibara - it’ll only spur him on to bring it up more often, such is his nature.

He shakes his head like, Not a chance, buddy, then pokes your side. You jerk, growling at him.

“Who’s your date, if it isn’t our dearest loverboy Toji?”

Wow, he’s still on about that. There are bigger fish to fry, like how you’re going to face Kento later when you go to meet him for dancing practice. Clearly Haibara is an ace at dancing and has his entire life together and doesn’t have to worry about anything other than who your date is. You envy him.

You already know how this is going to end - with relentless teasing. It’s inevitable. Here goes nothing.

“Kento.”

Flies are going to find a home inside of his mouth at this rate. You reach over and push his jaw up to close his mouth. He’s staring at you, his brown eyes blown wide. He’s already biting his tongue with things he wants to say. You scoff at him and cross your arms, waiting for the goading to begin.

“Oh. Merlin.”

You shake your head. “Don’t-”

He gets down onto his knees and looks up at the ceiling with his hands raised. “Finally!” He turns to you excitedly. “You two idiots are finally together!”

You grimace at his words, recoiling on instinct. What the hell is he going on about? “We’re not together, you idiot. We’re just going to the Ball together.”

“Is that what you think?” he drawls, resting his cheek on his palm. “Is that what Kento said?”

Your hands curl into fists. This is making your heart clench. “It’s what I said.”

Apparently this is comedy gold, and he starts laughing once again. Sometimes you think his brain is full of dust.

“Please double your meds immediately, Haibara,” you snap.

He wags a finger at you. “Oh no, I’m just getting started.”

You run a hand down your face. “Oh. My. God.”

(You’re astounded at how you’ve been able to dodge Haibara’s questions about your date to the Ball for this long. He just had to ruin your streak. And yes, he definitely had the time of his life teasing you for, quote unquote, “finally growing the balls to ask the hottest guy on the planet out.” (First of all, you’re going to admit, albeit reluctantly, that yes, Kento is hot. But secondly, and most importantly, you did not ask him out. He sort of did that himself. Granted, it’s not like you would have done it on your own anyways, so maybe he did you a favor, but you’re not going to think about that right now.)

Haibara doesn’t believe a damn thing you say. He thinks you caved and asked Kento out, and eventually you’d just agreed with him (here we go again with the lying) so that he’d stop.

You just love to get yourself tangled in all sorts of scandals. You ought to get paid for it at this point.)

A/N: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's probably the shortest of them all! (art by elitamasan on X)

[mahowaga]

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — TASK #1

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | mc’s best friend yu haibara GENRE: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 4.1k WARNINGS: none, just reader fumbling, but it somehow works idk

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— TASK #1: HOW TO LEARN TO DANCE WHILE MAINTAINING THE FACADE THAT YOU CAN

Let’s have a rundown: there’s the Toji incident, the Forbidden Step incident, and then Sukuna basically telling you to go with the flow and stop being over the top with everything.

If you are ever able to get your hands on some kind of memory erasing spell, you already know what you’re removing from your brain.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have access to such magic, so you have to make do with the options at your disposal: dealing with your problems head on. (Disgusting. Yuck. 0/10.)

Alchemy is an elective you selected during your sixth year at Hogwarts. You’re lucky enough to be able to take it, since the school only holds the class if there are enough students who want to study it. Currently, the class has a total of ten students, but you’ll take what you can get. It’s one of the few subjects that actually interest you, being something of a composite subject of three other core classes. Plus, you sometimes get to blow things up, which is a win in your book.

Due to the limited number of students, the class is held with everyone regardless of their house.

It’s mostly Ravenclaws, a couple of Slytherins and then you from Hufflepuff. No Gryffindors, sadly. (You don’t know why you instantly think of Utahime from Gryffindor and wonder why she doesn’t take Alchemy. Actually, you know exactly why you think of her - it’s because Kento is in the same class with you and your brain, for some reason that eludes you yet again, has somehow decided that he is as close as ever to Utahime and therefore they must be taking all of their classes together. Flawed logic is a pain.)

Yeah, that’s right. Nanami Kento takes Alchemy with you. (With you is an overstatement. He’s never noticed you in class before and he most definitely won’t start now. The Yule Ball is no excuse for him to lose focus.)

To be completely honest, you expect it to be way more awkward when returning to classes after the Toji incident, but the buzz and excitement that comes with the Yule Ball is enough to overpower that of your humiliation. (Thank you, Yule Ball, even though it’s the reason you almost landed a couple of hits on Toji’s pristine face.)

The only person whose opinion you really care about right now is Kento. There’s no way he hasn’t forgotten about everything that happened, and now even more so because he’s your date to the Ball.

The whole thing makes your head ache. This boy had basically turned himself into your date without you asking, blaming that cursed tie as the reason why.

Having class with him is going to be the worst thing that has ever happened to you, which is saying something, considering your recent string of misfortunes.

You walk into the classroom with your textbooks in your hands, braced against your chest. You’re slightly out of breath, having gotten lost deep in the dungeons before you’d found your way to the room.

There’s an unclaimed spot in the corner that you make a beeline for. It’s a bench for two, but no one ever sits next to you unless they’re late to class and it’s the only seat they have access to, so you place your textbooks on the empty seat and sit down.

The pair of Slytherins behind you are talking about the professor. You hate to admit it, but you eavesdrop, and it turns out they’re saying something about the professor not being able to make it to the class today - allegedly.

“Is that true?” you ask, turning around in your seat.

One of them, a girl with blonde hair whose name escapes you, nods. “I heard it from one of the prefects earlier.” She shrugs. “He might still make it, though, you know how he is.”

Yes, you do. Your Alchemy professor would show up to class even if he’d just lost an arm and a leg. (Anything for that paycheck, right?)

You turn back around and scan the room. Most of the students are already there, seated and talking to each other about the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. None of them seem to care about you being rejected by Toji in public, and you exhale with relief. At least you have this, some semblance of peace.

There’s fifteen minutes before the class starts. Everyone’s there except for Kento. You assume he’s out doing Head Boy things. Handling some aspects of the Yule Ball and the second task has to be a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. His and Utahime’s and the other prefects’.

He’s never late, though, and when there’s ten minutes left, he walks in, looking as prim and proper as always, his textbooks hanging at his side. He surveys the room, searching for a seat.

You avert your eyes, opening one of your hefty books and pretending to read. You’re not worried about him sitting next to you, he never does, but rather making eye contact with him. You’re just not mentally prepared for that just yet. You also don’t know how to break it to him that you don’t know how to dance. You’re going to end up doing an awful shuffle at the Ball and he’s going to stand to the side pinching the bridge of his nose.

Oh, right. You need to find someone to teach you how to dance. You don’t dare to ask Haibara, because knowing him, he’ll probably rope Kento into it. You can’t exactly ask Sukuna, either.

You’re just going to have to do this on your own - a solo endeavor. (You’re also going to have to lie to Kento, which will prove to be a feat of its own seeing how well he can see through you. That’s a problem for you in the future.)

There’s a shuffle of feet and when you look up, Kento’s picking up your textbook from the seat next to you and placing it on the table.

What’s going on?

He’s doing it like it’s a normal thing, like this isn’t completely out of left field. He’s focused on placing his books on the table and doesn’t look at you until he’s comfortable in his spot.

Your elbows are brushing. You pull your hands down to your lap, the back of your neck prickling with heat.

He turns to you after fussing about his textbooks and quill and ink. “Good morning.”

It’s like your tongue is tied. Your linguistic skills are failing you exponentially.

No. You refuse to embarrass yourself in front of him for the umpteenth time. You don’t want him thinking his date to the Ball is a total clown who specializes in buffoonery.

“Good morning,” you say, and your voice shakes a bit with the effort. You hope he doesn’t notice, but the corner of his lip quirks up ever so slightly and you’re gone. You’re done for.

Usually, this would be the end of your conversation with him. That’s how you have been speaking to him for the past year, ever since Haibara had introduced you to each other. Just a simple greeting and then you both draw the line. A thick line.

The staircase had been a situation that had the both of you playing jump rope with said line. It was nerve-wracking and exhilarating at the same time, with a splash of stress (what if you say something idiotic and he just stares at you?). A part of you, the masochist, likes the stress that comes with conquering the unknown. The logical part of you hates it and wants to stay in your little bubble of comfort.

It’s silent for a while, the hum of the rest of the class taking up the space that has grown between the two of you.

You let your mind run wild. You want to dwell on the fact that he’s willingly sitting next to you despite having never done so before, but right now your focus is elsewhere: your number one enemy. Dancing. 

You just don’t want to bring him any shame. He’s your date for reasons that are beyond you, but it’s clearly a choice he’s made, and you’d hate to ruin everything by being inept.

Maybe you should ask him for help.

No. That’s an intrusive thought. It’s a really bad idea. (Obviously.)

You shoot him a glance. He’s looking down at his textbook, reading through today’s chapter before the professor comes in - if he’s even showing up today. A few strands of his light hair escape his neat part and fall over his forehead. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you do, because he looks so effortlessly amazing. Sometimes you wonder why it always seems like there’s someone in the background holding a bright light over him to make him look even more ethereal.

(It’s probably your own delusions painting him to be some kind of angel with light shining down upon him every hour of every day. That’s what he looks like through your eyes, but then again, you’re totally biased.)

You look away before he notices you staring.

Back to the problem at hand - finding someone to help you get better at dancing. The obvious answer is Kento, right? He’s your partner (watch yourself), you mean, date, and you’re going to be the one dancing with him so logically you need to know how he moves to be able to co-ordinate yourself.

You make up your mind. You’re going to ask him.

You take a deep breath and brace yourself. You’re going to ask him.

Another glance at him. You hate to disturb him while he’s clearly studying during the only free time he has, but this is important (it’s not that serious).

You’re going to ask him.

You’re going to ask him.

You’re going to-

He turns to you, catching your gaze like a deer in headlights. “Do you think we should practice the waltz?”

Shit. 

“What? No,” you say quickly. (You wish the gallows were a thing again because that’s where you want to be right now.)

You chide yourself for lying, but you couldn’t do it. You had to save your dignity.

He nods. “You’re right,” he says, almost sheepishly. “You probably don’t need to practice.”

You try to search for any jabs in his words, but it seems like he’s being sincere, which makes you feel even worse, because now you’re wondering if he asked because he wanted to practice himself.

You can make it right. (By lying. Great idea. Kids, lying is bad.)

“Um, actually,” you start, clearing your throat to get his attention back, since he’d turned to his book again, “you’re right, I think we should practice. I haven’t, um, done a waltz in a while, so I’m a bit rusty.”

He smiles. “Sounds like a good idea.” Then he adds, “I have no idea how to dance, so you can teach me.”

Your face drops.

Well, now you’re both screwed.

One of the defining traits of a Hufflepuff is honesty. Up until the Great Hall incident, you’d thought you were a model Hufflepuff student. Now, you can barely keep up with all the white lies (lying about being able to dance is not a white lie) you’ve told. Helga Hufflepuff would have you booted from the house in the blink of an eye. You have to start being honest. Dishonesty is not a good look for you or your house.

You need to start telling him the truth before everything blows up in your face.

You and Kento agree to meet at the music classroom on the fifth floor to practice dancing. Being Head Boy means he gets to bend some of the rules, and one of them is being able to wander around late at night.

So it’s settled, the music classroom at midnight, where he will see that you are way out of your depth and drowning in deceit. 

(This is like the blind leading the blind.)

You get to the classroom, a fairly large room with stone walls and stone floors, music stands and stools, a drum kit and a piano in the corner of the room. There’s a conductor’s stand in the center of the room, and everything else curves around it as if it is the center of the universe.

“Okay,” you mutter, setting down the boombox you’d brought along on one of the stools. You wring your hands together nervously, thinking about how you’re going to approach this. You’ve made up your mind (we all know how that worked out for you last time) to tell him the truth. If he ends up hating you, it’s instant curtains for you. You’re done.

A part of you wonders why you didn’t just tell him you can’t dance earlier, but adrenaline can be similar to alcohol, in that it is liquid courage and you just felt like you could live a lie. You’re still hoping you have some splendid dance skills inside of you, just waiting to be unleashed.

Kento seems to be running late. Great, it’s a headstart for you. If you can get a few steps down then maybe you won’t look so hopeless in front of him.

You pull out the book you’d borrowed from the library: Dancing for Dummies: Expanded Edition. It was a choice between this one and the standard Dancing for Dummies. You think the expanded version is going to be of more help to you.

Before you can open the book to page one, the door opens and Kento walks in, looking a bit worse for wear.

He flashes you a shy smile as he removes his robes and drapes it over a stool. He dusts his hands and walks over to you.

For a moment you simply stare at him. The lighting in the room is scarce, not a single candle or bulb in sight, the only source being the moonlight bleeding through the glass panes of the windows. The light scatters across the uneven stone floors. The beams of drowsy pale light settle on his face. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his lips slightly parted from exhaustion, and his hair has had a disagreement with him and now some of the strands have fallen onto his forehead. He doesn’t seem to care, though.

He loosens his blue and silver tie and rolls up his sleeves, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. It’s as if he knows you can barely look away when he catches your gaze and uses it to his advantage.

“Are you ready?” he asks, holding his hands out for you to take.

Your stomach begins to protest, and not because of dinner. Now’s your chance to tell him the truth.

Tell him.

You take a deep breath and hold up the book. This is going to be a very, very horrifying experience; getting to see that smile on his face wiped off instantly, replaced with a hardened glare while he says something like, Do you think I’m a joke?

Oh, the very thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wish you were a hermit crab, then you could crawl into your little shell and run away. But you’re dedicated to the cause. You can’t disgrace your house, nor can you continue lying to someone you really care about (did you hear something?). You’ve read enough books to know what happens when fictitious statements keep piling up until it detonates like a nuclear bomb.

(As embarrassing as it’ll be to tell him the truth, you kind of don’t want a literal bomb on your hands.)

You purse your lips. How should you go about it? It doesn’t help that he’s waiting for your response patiently, despite his very obvious exhaustion.

Okay. Here goes your pride.

“Kento,” you start, lowering the book and scratching the back of your neck, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t actually know how to dance.”

You force yourself to face him. You should at least have the decency to look him in his eyes while you deconstruct the very image of yourself you’ve created just for him.

At first, it seems like he doesn’t hear you. Then it seems like he’s processing your words slower than usual, almost like his RAM is overloaded with whatever else he’s got going on in his pretty head. (What?) Then, after what seems like centuries, he reacts.

He raises both his brows (here it comes) and tilts his head to a side, his arms dropping to his sides. It almost looks like he’s giving you the thousand-yard stare. You hope that isn’t the case.

You twist your hands together, biting your lip. You’re waiting for him to say something, anything - you just need to know how he feels.

Finally he lets out a small bark of laughter. Your eyes widen. He’s laughing. You’ve just told him you lied to his face and he’s laughing. (Do you have a crush on some sort of psychopath?)

“Are you serious?” he asks, trying to stifle his laughter. He shakes his head as he puts his hands on his hips. He’s hitting you with the disappointed dad stance, and yet it’s as if he’s amused by the whole thing.

Your inability to tell what’s going through his head is going to give you palpitations. It’s not looking too good for your cardiac health right now.

You nod slowly. “I’m being serious.”

This just seems to make him smile even wider. He runs a hand down his face, his little chuckles muffled. His shoulders are shaking now.

You’ve broken him. That’s it. You’ve shattered Nanami Kento, Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, into smithereens. Oh, there’ll be hell to pay for sure.

“Why?” He tries to sober up, though his lips are still curled up. He’s stopped laughing, though it seems like he’s fighting himself to not let it out. You find it endearing and you want to say something but you bite your tongue, because this is neither the time nor the place. He leans forward.  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of your own actions.

You swallow hard. There’s a plethora of reasons, a whole library of them, actually, and if you had more time you’d take a leisurely stroll down the aisle of the library until you found a book that explained everything to a T. But you don’t have the luxury of time.

“I just didn’t want you to think any less of me than you already probably do.” You focus on the unevenly cut stones embedded into the floor, tracing the grout with the toe of your shoe. Looking into his inquisitive eyes is a no-no right now.

His reply is soft, like comfort wrapped in a whisper. “I actually think very highly of you.”

You look up slowly, and you almost gasp at how close he’s come. Once again, you are both inches away from each other, except this time you’re not buried inside of a step’s organs and have the option of stepping back to create distance.

You don’t. (Bold.)

“You don’t have to say that.” You hold his gaze for once in your life, feeling a rush of power as you do it, but he isn’t one to back down.

He arches his brow, and now he’s closer than ever - less than ten inches, no doubt. His eyes flick down to your lips and then back to your eyes and you hate the way it makes your body react viscerally. You feel as if someone’s shot you with a taser, the way your every nerve ending is alight with attraction and tension.

He nods once. “I know,” he says, his voice low, “but it’s the truth.”

(Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here. You need a fan.)

You shake your head quickly, putting a hand on his chest to put some distance between the both of you. You can’t think straight - whatever he’s doing, it’s messing with your head. It’s tearing apart the equilibrium you’ve tried so hard to maintain: you admiring from afar, him being, well, him and going about his life. This? This isn't a part of your plan. None of this is.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?” He glances down at your hand on his chest and his hand twitches at his side. You pretend not to see it.

You gesture between the two of you frantically. “What is this?”

Answers. You need answers and you need them now.

“Us?” he asks innocently.

You scoff. “There’s no us.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Why not?”

He’s really going to make you spell it out. Fine. “Because- because you’re out of my league.”

It feels good to get it out, but it also feels weird to admit it aloud. It’s always been something you’ve known deep down and never thought you’d ever need to say it to anyone, let alone him.

He knits his brows together, leaning back. “Who told you that?”

Is he being for real right now?

“I have eyes.” You widen your eyes as if to emphasise your statement.

He looks away quickly, then meets your eyes again. It’s as if a fire has been lit inside of those hazel eyes of his, the way they burn into yours like a brand. 

He runs a hand through his hair, his other hand braced on his hip. “I’m just the Head Boy,” he says, spreading his hands. “That has nothing to do with me wanting to be with y-” He stops and coughs, his eyes wide for a millisecond, a sliver of fear flashing through the fire. “It has nothing to do with me wanting to be your date.”

Your mouth is wide open. “Just the Head Boy?” You throw your hand up. “You must be out of your mind.” And he is, you’re convinced he is. He’s doing all of this to be your date to the Yule Ball. He’s way too dedicated.

He exhales sharply and crosses his arms tightly. The tension between the two of you is beginning to tighten. Soon enough, if one of you cut it, it would snap with a loud twang and send the both of you flying right out of the window.

“Says the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team,” he murmurs under his breath, looking away. His jaw is tight.

You swear your eyes would bulge out if they could. This boy isn’t making any sense. He really isn’t. “What does that have to do anything?”

Satisfaction crosses his handsome features. He looks smug. “What does being Head Boy have to do with anything?” he counters.

(Oh, he’s got you. You’ve been gagged for the millionth time. You can never catch him lacking.)

“You’re a real piece of work, just so you know.” Your lips curl into a pout as you cross your arms and turn away from him.

He seems to find this sweet, because when he reaches for your shoulder and turns you back toward himself he’s smiling, his eyes sparkling again, the fire dimmed down to ashes and soot. (It’s like he goes through emotions in the blink of an eye, and you’re having a hard time keeping up. Mentally, you’re still on the part where he says he’s just the Head Boy.)

“I’m well aware,” he says, tilting your chin up. Your skin tingles from the contact, and you can’t move, petrified into place (no Basilisk needed) by his courage to make a move.

Wait. Is he making a move? Your guts threaten to melt into a puddle. This is too much for you to handle, but you have to press on - if you don’t, you know you’ll regret it tomorrow morning.

He pulls back, and reaches for the book in your hands. He scoffs at the title but opens it nevertheless. He’s so nonchalant, acting as if he hasn’t just raised both your blood pressure and your heartbeat in the span of five minutes. (You don’t know if you should be elated or not - this is your crush, making moves on you, and you’re acting as if Medusa’s just turned you into stone, perpetually frozen, unable to process anything that’s happening despite having dreamt about this happening since the day you’d first laid eyes on him.)

Maybe you just need to sleep on it.

He pulls you out of your stupor by holding a hand out. “Shall we start practicing together?”

You gulp, looking from his hand to his face, brightened by the moonlight, his hair turned white, glowing like a halo. Finally, you take his hand, and he pulls you close. You hold your breath at the proximity, of being pressed against his chest, of his fingers laced with yours. He’s cradling the book in the crook of his other arm, reading it out aloud as you find your footing.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already peering down at you, a look of endearment meant just for you.

Hm. Dancing mightn’t be so bad if it’s with him.

A/N: thank you for tuning in! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, because there's more to come! (art by elitamasan on X)

[crispy-chan]

AAAAA IM LOVING THSI SERIES 😭😭 i love hogwarts aus and this really hity the spot. Perfect blend of fluff and sweetness 🥺💘

[crispy-chan]

Asksjfyjsz officially 19 🥹 started this blog when I was 14 y’all

[crispy-chan]

Last minute as a 18 year old akakakskksjs

[kosmogrl]

well yes!

[moderndaymystic]

I like calm men. Men who don’t shout or break things when they’re mad. Men who tell you exactly how they feel. Men who communicate. Men who talk you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong, but never blame you and make you feel bad about it.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

and if i said kento nanami

[s-n-arly]

Skip Google for Research

As Google has worked to overtake the internet, its search algorithm has not just gotten worse.  It has been designed to prioritize advertisers and popular pages often times excluding pages and content that better matches your search terms 

As a writer in need of information for my stories, I find this unacceptable.  As a proponent of availability of information so the populace can actually educate itself, it is unforgivable.

Below is a concise list of useful research sites compiled by Edward Clark over on Facebook. I was familiar with some, but not all of these.

⁂

Google is so powerful that it “hides” other search systems from us. We just don’t know the existence of most of them. Meanwhile, there are still a huge number of excellent searchers in the world who specialize in books, science, other smart information. Keep a list of sites you never heard of.

www.refseek.com - Academic Resource Search. More than a billion sources: encyclopedia, monographies, magazines.

www.worldcat.org - a search for the contents of 20 thousand worldwide libraries. Find out where lies the nearest rare book you need.

https://link.springer.com - access to more than 10 million scientific documents: books, articles, research protocols.

www.bioline.org.br is a library of scientific bioscience journals published in developing countries.

http://repec.org - volunteers from 102 countries have collected almost 4 million publications on economics and related science.

www.science.gov is an American state search engine on 2200+ scientific sites. More than 200 million articles are indexed.

www.pdfdrive.com is the largest website for free download of books in PDF format. Claiming over 225 million names.

www.base-search.net is one of the most powerful researches on academic studies texts. More than 100 million scientific documents, 70% of them are free

[metamorphesque]

i'm all the people i've ever loved

loseness lines over time by olivia de recat, @i-wrotethisforme, Kaveh Akbar, Olivie Blake