Daya's Wonderful World @dayawantstosleep - Tumblr Blog

Not Friends - HJS - OneShot

(i've had the above gif for so long, i have no idea who the creator is. credit to them and if they see this and wish me to take it down, please let me know. i thought the effects of the banner were pretty cool)

pairing: jisung x female reader

genre: angst, coming of age, fluff, romance, friendships

romantic trope: boy next door (inspiration from this reel)

word count: ~8k

rating: T

warnings: language, kissing, arguing, mostly the trials of middle and high school, drinking underage (nothing too excessive), sneaking out, abandoned places, mc is stubborn af

there is mention briefly toward the end of something that might be triggering, it is not praised or belabored. it's something characters disagree with, i'm choosing not to list it as it is a bit of a spoiler. if you are concerned, please message me off anon and i will let you know what it is.

a/n: fic #3 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. i have to admit, this is kinda a weird one. not really sure what people will think. however, it seems hella fitting to post jisung's story after getting so much of him lately (the song '13' is beautiful) and his curly long hair might be my death. hugs to you readers, you have been so lovely.

----------

There isn’t a time where you don’t remember Han Jisung being there. He’s always just there.

His family moved into the house next door when you were only a year old (so you’ve been told, it’s not like you have any memories of that time) and he was a year old. Your moms started talking over the small fence that lay between your two backyards, so somewhere in your infantile mind, there is an image of one chubby-cheeked Jisung, probably falling over from his seated position then crying loudly because his balance was always circumspect, especially during the dreaded middle school years.

So when in school, someone asked if you knew Han Jisung, you said yes.

Friends?

No. Not friends.

Boyfriend?

No, ew. He’s just the boy next door.

Yes, you hung out with him when you were both infants and toddlers. When school started, you were sometimes in the same class, but not always. He tended to keep to himself during recess and you had enough trouble trying to find friends who were interested in the same things you were.

Namely, vampires.

Perhaps expecting other six and seven year olds to be as fascinated by vampires was asking a bit too much. But you were listening to Dracula, a radio performance, at six years old (begs the question of why your parents didn’t do anything, but they weren’t around at that very moment) so why weren’t other kids interested?

Well, they weren’t.

Maybe your parents thought you’d grow out of it. Most kids grow out of things; horses, wanting to be a fireman, superheroes, etc.

So many times that your parents tried offering you Barbies and My Little Ponies, on which you painted fangs and blood on.

But you don’t grow out of it. And no one grows into it.

Jisung himself seems to integrate okay into middle school. He finds Felix and Seungmin, and the three of them pal around, playing video games and probably other things that you were and are unaware of.

“You’re going to join the dance team?”

You’re in your backyard, attempting to weed the garden because if you do, your mother might not get as mad about you failing your math test. Jisung comes out to let out his dog, Bbama, and the two of you, though again not friends, aren’t unfriendly; so you chat.

“Felix wants to,” Jisung explains as Bbama comes to the fence to press his nose to your waiting fingers. “And well, he likes when we do things all together.”

You eye him with skepticism. “Can you dance?”

You’re both newly turned thirteen and puberty is a bitch. Jisung is all limbs, and you’re sure you resemble an egg in physique and color.

“No. But they aren’t expecting Lord of the Dance or anything.”

Jisung getting sassy with you isn’t new. Though quiet a lot of the time, when it’s only the two of you, he seems to be braver.

“They want us to do extracurriculars, you know, to get ready for high school.”

“Yeah?”

“So, what about you?”

“What about me?” What you just pulled up out of the ground is definitely not a weed, so you plop it back in and cover it up with dirt. Hopefully, your mom won’t notice.

“You should join the dance team too!”

You look up at him before watching Bbama run in circles behind him. “No.”

“Maybe robotics?”

“No way.”

“Art club?”

“Jisung, you’ve seen my stick figures.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“What I want to do doesn’t have a club or team, okay?”

You can hear his soft sigh as you dig out an actual weed this time.

“Vampires?”

You bristle at the implications. “I’m just…” You huff and sit back in your kneeled position. “There are too many accounts for it to be fiction, okay?”

“But what do you do with that?” He asks just as softly. “I mean, if they are real, they want to drink your blood and kill you. So like…you should avoid.”

“Do they? Or is that just Dracula and other novels telling us that?”

He points out a weed you’ve missed. You grumble, but grab and pull.

“Kids at school–”

“I don’t care what kids at school say or think, Jisung.”

“Yes, you do. We all do.” He swallows. “You think it doesn’t hurt when they make fun of my braces or glasses, or the fact that I can’t walk without running into something?”

You wince. Jisung isn’t a friend, but he’s familiar. He’s annoying as most boys are, but he isn’t mean. Not usually. You and he have had fights over the years, but most were when you were little and toys were involved.

“You shouldn’t care what they think.”

“But I do.”

“That’s why you’re joining the dance team, and I’m going to work on the ultimate vampire hunter kit.”

“Where are you going to get holy water?”

“Amazon.”

He sighs again, calling Bbama to go back inside. “I’m joining the team because Felix is my friend and it matters to him. That’s what friends do.” When he stops at the back door, he calls back. “Seungmin is really good at math if you need help for the next test.”

You don’t answer, not for the first time considering how you don’t have friends. There are some kids you sit with at lunch, but they mostly congregate together because there is strength in numbers, not because there’s any common interests or amiability.

–

~Ninth grade~

You wonder if maybe you should have tried out for softball or something because each pebble you throw at Jisung’s window actually hits 75% of the time. Who knew you had great aim?

The window opens and he looks down and you can see more than hear his heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you just message me?”

“I don’t have your number.” Why would you?

There’s another heavy sigh and he disappears into his room after closing the window. Your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You pull it out.

>> now you have it.

<< can i borrow your car?

>> what?

The back door opens and he comes out in pajama pants and a huge sweatshirt. He’s shoved on his glasses and his hair is tufted in chunks.

Was he really asleep at 11pm?

“You wanna borrow my truck?”

You nod, tugging on your scarf, a bit too tightly wrapped. “I’ll be careful. It’ll be back in the driveway by the time you wake up in the morning. I could probably hotwire it if I studied for a bit, but I figure, I could just ask.”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes unfocused. “Why?”

“I don’t have a car.” Your parents don’t think you’re responsible enough to have a car. Something about still living in fantasy, blah blah blah.

“I know…” He looks both annoyed and amused at the same time. “Why do you need it tonight?”

“Oh. I need to check out a place. There’s been rumor of vampiric activity.”

He actually takes a step back. “You’re going vampire hunting. Tonight. In my truck.”

“Yes.” I hold out my hand. “If you’ll give me your keys.”

“Do you even have your permit yet?”

You drop your arm. “No, but I’ve practiced.”

He turns and stares at his house.

“So…Jisung…is that a no?”

“If I say no, will you hotwire it?”

“I mean, maybe.”

There’s a lot of muttered curses before he turns back around. “Yes, but I’m going with you. I’m driving.”

“What? No. No way.”

He walks right up, a foot away from me. “You let me go, drive, and you come to see the dance team at halftime; or you’re shit out of luck, Van Helsing.”

You open your mouth to tell him where he can stick it, but then don’t. You actually need his vehicle. The area that online people have had sightings and encounters is only an hour away and this was the only night that your parents had wine before dinner which would definitely keep them so deeply asleep that you can get away with a nightly venture.

And maybe it would be fun to watch Jisung, Seungmin and Felix perform. Not that you’d ever admit that.

“Yeah. Okay. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

He nods. “Give me like five.”

An hour and a half later, he shifts next to you as you hold a position in a cluster of trees. “Like…I don’t think they’re here.”

“Shh,” you hush him, half-heartedly hitting his arm. “They don’t billboard-announce it.” You move quickly and as quietly as you can toward the old abandoned cabin.

“Pretty sure it’s just serial killers who do that.”

You spin around to glare at him, but he’s grinning at you. You’re irked, but you can’t help but smile. It’s a little fun to have someone with you.

“Are we really going in there?”

You hand him a flask and move again to another gathering of foliage.

“Are we drinking?” he whispers once he’s followed successfully. He’s still skinny as a rail, but still provides a little warmth at your back.

“No, you dummy, it’s got holy water. It’s to protect yourself.”

“Oh.” You can almost hear his smile. “Thanks.”

It takes a few more minutes of covert movement before you get to the house. You circle it, looking for any tell-tale signs of vampiric activity (corpses or animal remains, displaced or unusual soil, etc), but there’s nothing except overgrown weeds and some tricycle that has been taken over by said overgrown weeds.

You test the back door.

“Shouldn’t we get a flashlight?”

“And announce our arrival?”

“They can hear better than us, don’t you think they’d already know, with how you nearly tripped over that root before the gate?”

Yeah, that was embarrassing. You glare at him again.

“How do you know all that stuff? About their hearing?”

He rolls his eyes and rewraps his scarf around his neck. “I’ve known you all my life. I listen…duh?”

You shake your head and enter the run-down cabin. As you test the rotted wooden floors, making sure to tell Jisung to step where you step, you think about that. There’s no reason why Jisung would just know how good a vampire’s hearing is rumored to be. Unless he listened to you, and remembered.

That sticks with you, even as you find that the abandoned cabin is full of dust, cobwebs, questionable wallpaper choices, with no sign of life…or unlife.

He never says anything like ‘I told you so’ on the drive back, nearly four and a half hours after the initial request of his car.

“That was kind of fun,” he says, sneezing when you both get out of his dented-in-weird-places truck.

“You screamed three times and squeezed my arm so tight, it’s gonna bruise.”

“Those weren’t screams. They were….yelps. Exclamations of surprise.”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Sure.”

He tugs his beanie so it covers his ears. “I’ll do it again with you, if only so you don’t steal my truck.”

“Maybe…” You don’t promise anything. Yes, it was nice to have someone with you, but you don’t put your faith into it. Jisung is on the dance team, goes to pc cafes to game, and actually hangs out with his friends. You do just this.

You know you’re the weird one here.

“Maybe I’ll finally get my own car.”

“You could get a job.” He offers, leaning against the grill of his truck.

“At fifteen?”

He shrugs. “You could babysit?”

The both of you start laughing at the mere idea of you being in charge of vulnerable little humans.

“I mean, you could.”

“The world is a better place without me protecting a toddler from the electric outlet.”

He shrugs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets before pulling out the flask. “I dunno. You protected me pretty well.” He yawns.

“Go sleep.” You take the flask back. “Thanks.”

He nods, already looking like he might fall asleep leaning against his SUV like that. “Not going to say ‘any time’. Maybe once and awhile.”

You press your lips together to stop smiling at him. “Sure. Night.”

–

Jisung reminds you of your promise to watch the dance team at one game’s halftime, so you show up to a basketball game, sit and watch a sport that makes the people around you yell at the referees, the other team, and the home team with such passion that you think you must have something wrong with you because you do not get it.

But the half ends, and most people get up to grab concessions or hit the bathrooms while the co-ed dance team comes out in black and red outfits. You find Felix easy enough in the crowd, his vibrant blonde hair bouncing as he finds his position, talking excitedly to another dancer. Seungmin with his characteristic nonchalant expression is behind Felix, seeming unbothered that there’s an audience in front of him, waiting to judge and assess him.

Jisung is near the end of the second line, bouncing on the balls of his feet as everyone gets into place. He glanced up at the crowd, eyes scanning. He sees you because your eyes lock and you give a little wave of ‘see, I came’. You think he smiles, but you are on the top row of bleachers, off to the far side.

The dancers all drop their heads when the music starts. Felix leads off and the rest fall into sync with him. You try and watch the group as a whole, impressed with how they move together, how the choreography seems like a mix of hip hop and contemporary.

It’s honestly pretty good for a high school group. You have YouTube and you’ve seen the occasional viral embarrassing dance rendition of whatever hit song is popular.

Your eyes fall on Jisung the most. He’s the only one you know on your side of the gym (most of the time, there are a few formation changes).

For being all limbs (though admittedly, he’s less like a stretched-out stick figure these days), Jisung is a good dancer. He’s on beat with his moves, and it doesn’t look horribly awkward.

You’re surprised.

The song isn’t more than maybe two minutes and the applause at the end of it is not the same as the passionate yelling of spectators for some ‘bogus call, ref’. You clap though because you are impressed, and because if you had friends, you think it would be Jisung and his two compatriots.

You start to head out of the gym into the lobby to go home; you are not sitting through more yelling at where an orange ball travels to. You’re almost home free, but you hear your name and turn to see Jisung running up to you. He’s grinning, face flushed, hair ruffled.

“Thanks!”

“I mean, I promised.” You glance around to see schoolmates watching the two of you conversing and you wonder if Jisung worries about it. Because if you were less on the fringes (you’re not going to call Jisung popular, but he’s not ignored), you might worry about who you’re seen with.

“Did I do okay?”

His question interrupts your musing on high school hierarchies, and you look at him in shock.

“I…I don’t know anything about dance, Jisung.”

He nods. “But you are honest. Sometimes painfully. So, tell me. What did you think?” He crosses his arms and waits. You blink a few times, your mind going back over the memory of their performance, him specifically.

“I think you’re good. I didn’t see any obvious mistakes or like you didn’t fit in.”

“But?”

It’s unnerving how he seems to know that you have more thoughts, even when you weren’t completely aware of them yourself.

“I think you can extend more?” You swallow, lifting your arms so they stretch out. “Like your arms don’t go out all the way and I think it looks better when you do?” You shrug and drop your arms. “Also, your shoulders are up when you dance. Makes you look tense.”

He nods a few times before smiling. “See, I knew you’d be honest.” He drops his arms from his chest. “Thanks…Are you leaving?”

You nod emphatically. “I cannot handle the screaming any longer.”

He laughs. “Yeah, fair.” He watches you for one more second. “We’re gonna go out for burgers and shakes later…you can come?”

“We?”

“The dance team mostly, I think.”

You’re already shaking your head. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks.” You start to walk backward, a little on edge being this close to Jisung and how he kinda sparkles all sweaty and red-faced. “I’ll see ya.”

He waves as you practically trip to get out of there.

–

~Tenth grade~

He warned you. He said that with both sets of parents going for a weekend trip together that he might have a party. You didn’t care because you had homework and research to do, and a party with Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung didn’t seem that concerning.

Since when did sophomore Jisung know enough people to have a rager? Because that’s what it sounds like next door right now.

You look through the kitchen window. There’s a lot of people, bodies silhouetted in the windows of his house, people in the backyard. Music loud and pumping.

He invited you. You could go over.

You sigh and look in the refrigerator. There’s a six pack of beer. You could bring it over. Your father would probably just think that he’d already finished it. Or maybe he’d be thrilled that you snuck alcohol like a normal teenager.

That’s what you’ll do. Just bring the six pack over, say hi to Jisung and remind him that the rest of your neighbors might not be as tolerant of the noise level.

And to be careful.

You tug slightly on your turtleneck as you walk over. It’s not cold enough to warrant it, but it’s night time and you aren’t stupid.

Easy access to arteries is a dumb move.

You decide to step over the fence between the backyards, hearing a few ‘who is that?’ comments as you do from the outdoor party-goers. You will stay thirty minutes. That’s enough to get the high school party experience, right?

You see Felix the moment you walk in the back doors. He is sitting on a counter laughing at something someone is saying. He sees you, eyes light up and he slides off the counter to come greet you.

He’s so bright sometimes he makes your eyes hurt.

“You came! Jisung said you wouldn’t!” There’s a hug, enthusiastic on his end, less so on yours. No one dislikes Felix; it’s impossible, but he’s definitely good in small doses for you. “You brought beer?”

You nod and he takes it from you, leaving your hands empty with nothing to do.

“Come, come, have a drink.”

“Uh, I just brought that and wanted to say hi to Jisung.”

He hands you a bottle of something pink with a peach on the label before gesturing toward the middle of the house. “I think he’s in there somewhere.”

Did you mention you don’t love yelling?

The music and the din of human voices is a lot to your head, so you sip the drink to find it’s not too gross and the cold of it is welcome amidst the heat of bodies. You enter into the sea of people, some dancing, most talking, a few touching in ways that makes your skin crawl.

Seungmin bumps into you and greets you with the same apathy that makes you always think that you and he might be good friends if either of you tried.

“Where’s Jisung?” you ask, wincing as you have to yell it to be heard.

Seungmin smiles and it makes you question everything. Because it’s too wicked to just be a smile brought by an innocuous question or even alcohol.

“I think he’s over by the stairs. You should definitely say hi.”

If Felix is too bright to take in more than just a bit at a time, you’re more wary of Seungmin. You kinda hope you never see him smile again. It’s too unsettling.

You nod and move on through the house, avoiding touching people as much as possible because they smell of liquor and sweat and so many pheromones.

It takes a few minutes to get to the stairs, but you do find Jisung who is staring into the crowd that is writhing in the living room. You quietly sidle up behind him (him unaware) to see what he’s seeing.

Ahhh.

“Mi-sun, huh?”

He jumps and turns, almost knocking heads with you. You step back to give him space. He says your name, eyes wide and then quite delighted. He hugs you.

He hugs you.

Jisung doesn’t hug you. That’s not a thing between next door neighbors. But you can smell the mix of fruit juice and rum on him, so you think that it’s probably not surprising that intoxicated Jisung is affectionate.

He is friends with Felix after all.

You pat his back during the hug, but he doesn’t let go quickly. You feel his nose brush the fabric covering your neck before he draws back.

“You’re here.”

You shrug, a little undone by how damn smiley he is. “I’m here.” You wait but he’s still staring and smiling at you, so you look away, pointing back toward the crowd. “You like Mi-sun?”

He follows your hand then looks back at you. “Uh, I mean…she’s pretty?” His brow is furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“You were staring at her.”

“No, I wasn’t.” There’s a pout added to his words, so you just shrug because why would you debate this.

“I just came to bring some beer and say hi,” you tell him.

“What?”

God, do you have to yell everything?

“Come on,” he says when you shake your head. “We’ll go upstairs.” He takes your hand and leads you. You are so dumbfounded that you follow, half-stumbling up after him.

He leads you to a room and hits the lights before pulling you in and shutting the door. You look around.

“There’s no way this is your room.” You have very vague recollections of his bedroom from when you two were in elementary.

“It’s my brother’s.” His older brother is already in college. “Why isn’t it mine?” He plops on the edge of the bed and lays down.

“Doesn’t feel like yours.” You assume that his room looks different from when you were kids, but maybe there are still Alvin and the Chipmunks sheets.

“Valid.” He sighs. “There are so many people here.”

You sit next to him. “Yeah. I was gonna warn you that I think Mrs. Park has looked out her blinds at least three times.”

Another sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck. I really thought it’d be like ten people.” He sits up and looks over at you. “You’re drinking.”

You look at the wine cooler and offer it to him. “I think I had three sips.”

He takes it and drinks it, eyes on you when his mouth touches the rim of the bottle. You tilt your head to the side, then decide not to ask about it.

“So…a high school party…is it as great as the movies told us?” you ask, looking at his brother’s swimming trophies decorating one set of shelves.

“Dunno. It’s my first legit party.”

“Same.” You doubt birthday parties from third grade when Doyung had to invite the entire class counted as ‘real’ parties.

“It’s not horrible,” he says before saying your name. You turn to look at him to find that he’s only a few inches away.

“What are you doing?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You freeze before jumping off the bed. “What?”

He makes a face before looking at the half-drunk bottle in his hands. “I know it’s weird, but it’s my first party. This’d be my first kiss.”

“There is probably someone down there who’d do that for you,” you stammer, trying not to look at his lips because that’s what the word ‘kiss’ has done to your brain. “I think Felix would.”

Jisung laughs before grinning at you. “He probably would, but…” he trails off, looking at you.

“But…” You cross your arms, so he doesn’t think you are interested. Then it hits you. “Wait, is this because I always tell you the truth? Like you want to make sure you don’t suck? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Okay, maybe there’s some of that…” That shouldn’t be as disappointing as it is to you, but he continues, “But also…” he swallows nervously. “I want to kiss you.”

Your brain has stopped computing.

“You…want to kiss me?” You are surprised you can even speak. “Why?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You move back to sit on the bed, a foot or two between you and him. “I…” You meet his gaze. “How drunk are you?”

He shrugs with an embarrassed smile. “Two drinks? I mean, I won’t lie, I definitely probably wouldn’t have asked you if I was fully sober, but I’m not…impaired or anything.” He scoots a little closer. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I might cry about it later, but–” He laughs when you punch his arm with no force.

It’s hard not to stare at him. Whether it’s the alcohol or something else that makes his eyes all sparkly, he’s turning into someone quite pretty. His nose still doesn’t quite fit his face and he’s more of a toothpick than human.

But he’s pretty.

And probably the only person you know who you could kiss and not be worried as much about the aftermath. Maybe growing up with him just means he isn’t so scary.

Maybe it just means that he’s safe.

“Okay.”

His eyes widen at your admission. “Yeah? Oh. Okay.” He turns more toward you. “So, you have to be honest. I really have a lot of overcome in the romance department, but I think being a good kisser could like be my chance to outweigh the rest of it.”

You laugh, you can’t help it. “You’re pretty great as is, Jisung.”

His mouth parts, eyes boring into yours. “Thanks.”

You shake your head at the near mesmerizing effect of his big brown eyes. “Rules though.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Hands nowhere that bikini covers .” Even saying it outloud makes you cringe, but you really have no desire to find out if you like being groped or not.

“Uhhhh, same?” He covers his hands over his chest like the cups of a bikini top and you giggle because he’s funny and cute and you’re going to kiss him. You lean closer. His eyes drop to your mouth, his hands falling from his chest to the mattress. “Anything else?” his voice is pitched high and you wonder if your voice does something to give away your nerves too.

“I don’t think so?” Yeah, your voice doesn’t quite sound normal.

He reaches out, one hand touching your cheek while the other rests on your thigh. He lets out a shuddery breath.

“Soft,” he whispers before his eyes close which reminds you that you should close your eyes, too. You feel his lips brush yours hesitantly before settling with a bit more confidence. His hand cups your face as his mouth moves.

It’s nice. It’s interesting.

He draws back, but his hands linger. Eyes open, and he gazes at you.

“Okay?”

You nod, curious because you feel like it should be more. You aren’t sheltered. You’ve seen kisses on screen, in real life, but it’s not like you’ve studied. Kissing for any length of time requires movement. So you move.

You press your mouth to his, hands pushed down on the mattress as you edge ever closer. His index finger traces the shell of your ear when you open your mouth so your tongue can touch the seam of his lips. You feel him visibly jolt, but he gives you no time to question or apologize for that as he returns it.

Oh…ohhhhh.

As his tongue slides along yours, his hand on your thigh clenches. It’s like a chain reaction; his hand on your leg draws you more to him, your hands finding his waist and hips. He makes a sound that spurs on his tongue so much that you pull back.

“No.”

His eyes flutter open. “What?”

“I mean,” you feel dazed yourself. “Not so much tongue.” You brush back his hair when his hand drops to your shoulder. “No lizards.”

He winces. “Sorry.” The flush on his cheeks catches your attention and you lean in to kiss the heated skin. His breath catches.

“What about me?” you ask, fascinated at the give of his cheeks. You press another kiss. “Any tips?”

“No.” It’s more of a groan and you raise your eyes to his. “You…you’re very good.” He doesn’t elaborate, but kisses you again. You feel the intrusion of his tongue, but it’s slower…like he’s savoring.

It’s so much better.

You’re unaware of much beyond the kissing, your hands having a mind of their own as one slips under his t-shirt to trace the slope of his back. You’re not quite conscious of maneuvering him so he’s lying back on the bed and you are straddling him on your knees, reluctant to break away from his mouth. You do though, you draw away and look down at him; his swollen lips, red and shiny. His dark eyes and flushed skin. How his fingers wrap around your waist, gripping tightly.

“Better?” he questions, breathless.

“Much.” One more kiss, this one soft and he whines when you pull away again. “I think you’ll be just fine, Jisung.”

He sits up as you move off of him. Reality comes back, your brain returning to its normal functioning. You stay on the edge of the bed, staring anywhere but at him.

He fills the space next to you, so quiet. He says your name, and you dare to glance over.

You kiss him again, the urge strong. He cradles your face in his hands, kissing you back. It’s more sweet than heated.

There’s a loud crash sounding from downstairs, and he jerks away before looking at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.”

“You better go.”

He glances at the door then back at you, his hands leaving your face. “Yeah…are you going home?”

“Yeah. I think…I think I should.” You miss his hands already.

You both stand and you slide your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. He reaches out to touch where your neck is covered by your shirt. You freeze, staring at him. He shrugs, not saying anything.

“I’ll…I’ll see ya.” He disappears through the door, shutting it behind him. You don’t move for a minute, trying to feel like you have control over your body before you leave.

As you make your way through the party-goers, you’re almost out the back door when you hear someone (Seungmin you think) holler “Cops on their way!”

It’s a mad dash that you make in front of the departing crowd. You step back over the fence, hurrying into your house before watching the people and the cars all race off. You wait several more minutes once everything has gone quiet to realize that the cops aren’t coming.

Pretty effective way to end a party, though.

Your phone vibrates.

Night.

—

If you had friends, especially female friends, you might have talked to them about it. Might have discussed the whys and hows and what to do now of it all. But you don’t think your mom is the right person to tell about the party at the Han’s house, and the few kids in high school you do interact with aren’t exactly interested in anything about your life. Your conversations consist of retelling what assignments someone missed and how high school is hell.

You definitely don’t talk to Jisung about it.

When you see him at school the following Monday, he smiles at you, but is distracted by one of his dance team members. You maintain the status quo which is little engagement with anyone at school, even Jisung.

What is there to talk about? It was a kiss (several) and just two neighbors experimenting. It’s not anything else.

It definitely doesn’t mean you like Jisung or anything.

It’s two months later that you see him talking with Mi-sun by the lockers, her hand on his arm that you reiterate to yourself that you don’t like him.

Because that would be stupid.

—

~Twelfth Grade~

High school is hell, but you weather it well enough. You pass your classes, you get a decent score on the SAT even though you think university is a pointless experience. It appeases your parents that you do apply and do accept going to a school in state, but farther away than you’ve ever been.

You’ve been working a part-time job at a bookstore for the last two years, finally earning enough for a used car. Which means you don’t text your neighbor for any late night excursions. Even though he’s asked at least twice.

He’s easy to avoid if you try.

But not at the graduation bonfire. It’s tradition. The powers-that-be in your small town look the other way when the graduated seniors set up a party on the outskirts, in the woods. Bonfire, drinks, very little food and somehow it’s okay as long as no one drives home.

You go because you’re curious. You’ve been to maybe three parties since Jisung’s because it makes your parents less annoying when you do ‘normal’ teen things. You haven’t stopped your research and exploring, but you hide it better.

It’s the last high school thing you’ll ever have, so you go.

It’s not about Jisung.

But you do see him once you grab a beer to keep your hands occupied. He’s laughing with Seungmin and Felix and other schoolmates that you know by sight. You know that he did date Mi-sun for probably a good year or so because even though you are a nobody in your school, it’s small enough that dating rumors and truths get to everyone, even the outsiders.

You force yourself to look away from him when he smiles because it’s still bright and happy and it hurts.

The bonfire crackles and burns bright in front of you as you fiddle with your open bottle.

“Hey, you came!”

Apparently he saw you too.

You force a smile to your lips. “Hey Jisung.”

He steps in next to you, clinking your bottle with his. “Happy ‘we’re done with this hellhole’!” He seems a little intoxicated, giddy from the ceremony of the day.

“Sure.”

He turns to you. “Your mom said you were going to Southern?”

“Yeah. And you’re going to State with Seungmin and Felix.” You take a sip and make a face.

“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Guess we won’t be neighbors.”

Why does he have to sound bummed about it? What does he care?

“Yep.”

“What does an aspiring vampire-ologist major in?” His smile hasn’t faded, but you realize that you’re just not in the mood for his teasing. Even if he’s one of the only people who’s never mocked you for your life-long preoccupation.

“What do you major in when you just do everything your friends do?”

You can see him still in the corner of your eye. The smile drops, the easy and open manner closes off.

“What?”

You turn to him, angry for reasons you can never tell him because it’s probably not his fault that you went and developed a crush on the boy next door, but you convince yourself if he hadn’t kissed you, you wouldn’t be like this.

You wouldn’t like Han Jisung.

“Just curious if going to college with your best friends from high school is such a good idea. I mean, will you ever figure out what you actually want to do if you keep following them?”

The bonfire paints flickering light over his face, shadowing the entirety of his expression. But you can see enough.

You’ve hurt him. You’re not friends but you never wanted to hurt him.

“At least I don’t live in a fantasy because I refuse to deal with the real world and actually interacting with humans. I don’t prefer mythological creatures over actual people.” He spits out words like they’ve been festering inside for far too long. “At least people know I exist.”

He holds your gaze, your glare for as long as it takes you to let his words settle in your mind. It’s a direct hit. And only he knows you well enough to do it so keenly.

You hate that you just now realize how well he knows you.

“Have a nice life, Jisung.” You toss your bottle into the bonfire, watching the mini explosion with disinterest before walking away.

—

~First Year at University~

When you see Jisung in his backyard during winter break, you pause in your thoughts about going out to look at the stars. You haven’t spoken to him since graduation night. You saw him load up his truck and leave about three days before you left for your college. There has been no contact in any way. You almost made a profile to see if he posted on tiktok or instagram or anything, but school takes over as it always does, and you don’t want to feel weak.

Even if you wish you could apologize.

You don’t go back home until winter break. Your parents check in with you, but you’re convinced that they’re just grateful that you’re finally out of the house. As the semester wears on, you don’t blame them.

It’s three days before Christmas when you see Jisung in the backyard with Bbama. You were about to walk out, look up at the stars and soak in the wintry quiet. You hesitate in seeing your neighbor, wondering if you can actually do this.

You go out anyway.

In a tufted beanie and big puffy jacket, Jisung spins around at the noise of the sliding doors opening. Even from this distance, with the back door lights illuminating, you can see his eyes widen.

You wave. “Hey Jisung.”

His shoulders drop in relief. “Hey.”

You walk over to the fence, pulling tighter on the hood of your sweatshirt. You squat down to pet Bbama over the fence.

“So…” you begin, looking up as your neighbor walks over. “How was college?”

He half-smiles and squats down too, eyes on Bbama. “Is it strange to say life-changing?”

You stare at him as he rubs Bbama’s hindquarters. You need to know. You need to know if getting away from home, from the drama of high school, from everything of before also irrevocably altered him and the journey he thought he was on.

“No,” you say. He looks at you then and seems to understand that there’s a lot you’re not saying. “Wanna tell me about it?”

The half-smile stretches into a full one. “Yeah, okay.”

He drives you both out to the woods, to a very large clearing so you both can lie in the bed of his truck and stare up at the stars, unpolluted by light. He throws a blanket over you before adjusting an old hoodie under his head for a makeshift pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

You still look at the stars, but you can feel his gaze.

“You are?”

“For what I said at the bonfire. I was…” One of the reasons you never apologized was that you weren’t sure how to without revealing how angry you were and that the source of your anger was your silly crush on him. “I was angry and I took it out on you. I’ve always thought your friendship with Seungmin and Felix was really nice.”

He lets out a soft breath. “You could have been friends with them too.”

You snort. “Yeah, I wasn’t really about that.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry too. For saying what I did about you living in fantasy and–”

“I don’t think you were entirely wrong,” you interrupt. “I think there was some element of avoiding life.”

“Did you have to take Psych 101 too this semester?”

You laugh, turning your head to look at him. He’s looking up at the sky, giving you a picture-perfect view of his profile.

He’s grown even more, in just five months.

“I did.”

“Me too. So, I think you weren’t completely wrong either. About me.” He moves and sits up, leaning back against the cab of the truck. You do the same, wrapping the blanket around you. “It’s easier to be what others what you to be than to figure out what you really want.”

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, hearing the wind whistle through the bare and needled trees.

“Did you? Did you figure out what you want?”

He nods. “I…I started writing.”

“Writing?”

In your peripheral, you can see him swallow nervously.

“What kind of writing?”

“Lyrics. Music. Poetry.” He turns toward you. “I had to take a writing class to get it out the way and only one was available…poetry. I shouldn’t have even gotten into it, it’s a 300 level…a total glitch, but it was so good and I liked it so much and–” He cuts himself off, looking away and even though it’s dark you can tell he’s blushing. “I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Are you going to like…be a song-writer?”

“Maybe? I’m taking two music production classes next semester. It might be awful. I might be awful at it.”

“But you might not be.”

He looks back at you and does that half-smile again. “Yeah. I might not be.”

“That’s really awesome, Jisung.” You reach out and squeeze his arm, which really is just you squeezing the puffy jacket. “I’m happy you found that.”

“What about you? You made it sound like…like college was life-changing for you too.”

You take a deep breath.

“Still researching?”

“No.”

If you were in a drama, he would have gasped with such a reveal. But it’s just quiet. Cold and quiet.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not real.”

Maybe that’s when a gasp would happen.

“I…um, really?”

You laugh at how he’s trying to sound surprised.

“I mean I noticed you aren’t covering your neck like you usually do at night, but–”

You shouldn’t be surprised that he noticed that.

“I know. I know. I was so adamant about them being real. And who knows? Maybe they do exist. They’re just really good at hiding.” You sober up. “There was this flyer-poster thingy on the bulletin boards and on the community website for extracurriculars and clubs and stuff. It said something like “Find out about real vampires’ or whatever. I thought maybe I’d found others like me.”

You look back up at the sky.

“But you didn’t.”

“No. It wasn’t a big group. In some tiny classroom in the history building. The person who spoke was an activist.” You feel your voice break. “About sex-trafficking.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah. And like, went on about the statistics, and how it happens here, not in some country a million miles away. I almost cried in the meeting. These kids, people our age and younger are being enslaved and assulated on the daily and…” You trail off. “I mean, we’ve all heard about it before, just something about then, that moment. Here I was, trying to write a manifesto about some fictional character trope and there were children out there, being…” You press your lips together and take another deep breath. “It was eye-opening.”

“I can imagine.”

You swallow your emotions a little, wondering if you would ever become jaded when you thought about it.

“Anyway. I finally picked my major. I’m doing sociology and criminal justice. I don’t know what that means really, except…”

“I think that means you know what matters to you.”

You turn to him. “Yeah. I guess so.”

He smiles. “Well, my lyric-writing turn feels really underwhelming right now.”

You laugh and lightly punch his shoulder. “I bet your words are really wonderful. Thoughtful. Powerful.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You don’t know that.”

“Well, no, I don’t. But you were always a good friend to me…You’re really empathetic which I bet comes out in your writing.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted that we’re friends.”

You huff and punch him again before crossing your arms to look back out into the dark night. “Whatever.”

“I think your obstinacy will serve you well in what you wanna do, Van Helsing.”

You smile at the nickname.

“Hey.”

You turn again toward him. He’s moved closer.

“I’m excited for you.”

You can’t help but soak in his warmth from being closer and that smile of his. “Thanks. I’m terrified.”

“I think that’s good. I’ve never seen you scared.”

“I’ve seen you scared.”

He makes a face. “Well, that’s what I get for having a girl like you next door.” He meets your eyes for a couple seconds. “I’m sorry too.”

“About?”

“The party at my house.”

You can actually feel your heart speed up.

“We were kids.”

“But I liked you.” He shrugs. “And I got to kiss you but did nothing about it. Which feels both dumb and spineless. You didn’t seem to be interested so I just kinda decided to not bring it up again.”

You can’t take looking at him in the eyes for this, so you stare at the trees in the distance. “You liked me?”

“Of course. So I’m sorry I kinda made it about it being my first time and like, practice when it was definitely more than that. I took your first kiss too.”

“I agreed,” you say softly. “I agreed because it was you.” You reach out and smooth the wrinkles in his forehead from his worry. “I didn’t bring it up either. Even though it mattered.”

He doesn’t look away from you. “Yeah. It mattered.” He links his hand with yours.

You stare at your connected hands because it’s almost as unfathomable as you pursuing something that wasn’t vampires.

“Jisung.”

“Hmm?”

“You said you ‘liked’ me. Past tense.”

“I did.”

“Well, I like you.” You force your eyes back to his. “Present tense.”

“Yeah?” If there’s a trace of knowing in his voice and expression, you can forgive him. Because he’s always been perceptive and observant. Maybe your crush wasn’t as unnoticed as you thought.

“Yeah.” You laugh in self-reproach. “I mean, I think you’re the only thing outside of my research that I even thought about.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s grinning, still holding your hand.

“Say something.”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t move away. “Are you a better kisser now?”

You can see and hear how his breath catches at your question. “Um…I think so. I got really good advice from a friend, once. Not too much tongue.”

“That is a good friend.” You aren’t sure which of you is moving closer to the other, or if both of you are doing it simultaneously, but his lips are definitely nearer.

“Yeah. I like her.”

“Still?”

He nods, so close his lips brush yours just from that movement. He lingers, before kissing you more firmly, his other hand coming around to cup your face.

Maybe you don’t remember it that well, but you think he has improved. His tongue touching yours sends shivers through you that have nothing to do with the cold. But he notices.

“I better get you home. It’s freezing.”

You protest, and he kisses you on the lips in response before dropping his head and pressing his lips to your neck.

“I wanted to do this that night,” he whispers against your skin, then looks up at you. “Kiss you here.”

You cup his face in your hands, mouth meeting his, your fingers sliding into his hair. The way he kisses, the changing rhythm; his hands trailing under your hoodie and up your sides; all of it just causes your fingers to tighten in his hair, relishing the silky feel and hearing how he shudders at the slight pull.

He drags you closer, almost into his lap, but the wind picks up, blowing through the both of you so you simultaneously shiver. He chuckles against your lips.

“I better take you home. Getting sick on winter break would be the worst.”

You agree, but not without wrapping around him, kissing again. He eventually draws away, but lets your noses brush.

“The image of you above me, kissing me that night. Seared into my brain for eternity.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he climbs out of the bed of the truck and holds out his hand to help you, but you throw the blanket over his head before climbing out on your own. He’s laughing when he gets into the driver's seat to drive you back.

When he parks in his driveway, it’s quiet again. And your mind wanders.

“So…what does this mean, exactly?” you ask carefully.

He takes your hand in his, turning his body toward you, eyes soft and warm. “Means whatever we want it to.”

“We go to different schools.”

“True.”

“We are just now figuring out who we are and what we want to do.”

“Also true.”

You huff at him. “Long distance, even two hours or whatever rarely works.”

His smile grows. “You looked up how long it takes to drive between our schools?”

It’s beyond embarrassing so you pull your hand out of his, and get out of his truck. He follows soon after, wrapping his arms around you in a hug, his mouth pressing against your temple.

“It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Whatever.”

He draws back, not letting go, but so you can look at each other. “Two hours is nothing. We drove almost that far to look at an empty house.”

It reminds you again. That he pays attention. That he cares so deeply about his friends that he does stuff with them. Even hunting something that doesn’t exist.

You kiss him before drawing back to say, “True. Two hours is nothing.”

His answering smile fills you with so much affection, you wonder if it was inevitable; falling for the boy next door.

---

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

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