[theambitiouswoman]

Most people spend their lives coping with their limitations instead of realizing they can rewire their brain to overcome them. You’re not stuck with the mindset or patterns you were taught. Your brain is adaptable & when you change your thoughts, beliefs, habits etc you create new pathways that replace old limitations. You’re capable of more, but it starts with how you train your mind

[weirdtranssexual]

i mean this in the nicest way possible but some of you need to learn how to be annoyed

[weirdtranssexual]

people are going to annoy you and that’s not a reason to burn bridges or blow up relationships

some people will even annoy you often! some people aren’t good at social cues and will therefore be frequently annoying! still not a reason to blow everything up!

[weirdtranssexual]

part of developing your sense of community is learning how to tolerate people being annoying to you

it’s no great hardship to include even the people you find a bit irritating in your community

[weirdtranssexual]

this post is about everyone who’s kind of annoying (which. everyone is annoying sometimes) but it’s also specifically about neurodivergent people who are just trying to exist in their communities without being ostracized for not doing every social interaction perfectly

[riplikeren]

[theambitiouswoman]

… And learn to have the awareness to not take out those “moods” on others

Fixed it

[heegyuwrld]

lee jeno fic recs

my nct fic rec repository is ever so growing :')

rule number 1: don't fall in love (16.2k, smut, fluff, fake dating)

yours, inevitably (18k, angst, fluff, smut, college au, best friend brother!jeno)

pussy blocked. (31k, angst, comedy, fluff, college au)

no pain, no gain (4.3k, fluff, gymrat!jeno)

my first and last (37k, smut, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers)

flying kiss (23k, smut, childhood best friend!jeno)

room(hate) (part 1 - 18.3k, part 2 - 31.1k, smut, roommate au)

call me when you hate me less (18.3k, smut, angst, college au)

the dumbing down of love (12.4k, angst, fluff, college au, best friend!jeno)

reel (10k, smut, comedy)

SMAUs:

good graces

ride or die

underneath the tree

crush diaries

[hyuckswoman]

35. facecard

previous chapter masterlist

notes: new account in the tweetsssss who’s this likeeee?? 🤨

how have u guys been tho? feel like i nvr go on here it’s crraaaaaaazay pants n e ways have a good night/day if you’re seeing this!

taglist: @kgyam4 @sunghoonsgfreal @injunnie-lemon @nctrawberries @222low @multifandomania @nemonemoz @bearhyuckz @222brainrot @sinsgaybutthatsokay @defzcl @lostinneocity @junviadinho @mrsbyun-baek @skepvids @wonbin-truther @jkslvsnella @jising-jisang-jisung @nanaxwi @polarisjisung @amrqxz @jirsungs @haechansbbg @dalsosapple @pookime @pinklemonade34 @lotties-readings @roseangelxfuma @jiiieun @hrtleehan @mystverse @alethea-moon @stqrgr7 @nosungluv @dinonuguaegi @addyanm @kenmaswoman @okkkcausewhet @starfilledgaze @iseos1 @jovialdelusionbouquet @tywritesstuff @luffysprincess @pinkberryy15 @theandypark @keeryverse

[luvvhaechan]

haechan fic recommendations

MDNI !! hey peeps!! just so you know, i will be making another list of shorter fics ( under 1k ) and a smau masterlist!! lmk if youre interested, will also keep on adding to this list btw!!

red velvet hearts. - @ choerrypuffs - 7.7k

lights out , lights out pt2 - @ hhaechansmoless - 17.8k + 15.8k

caramel haechan - @ mejaemin

love virus , love virus 2 - @ twilightau - 7.6k + 5.6k

love jones , love jones 2 - @ lisired - 12.4k + 13.1k

would you film my s*x tape? - @ sweetiechenle

the boy is mine - @ domjaehyun - 101k ( 6 parts )

indica dreams - @ hazyhae - 11.7k

what the puck! - @ choerrypuffs - 11.6k

romancing - @ jenoloqy - 23.7k

risking it all , risking it all pt2 - @ kiszjuli -15.3k + 7.4k

settle down , settle down pt2 , settle down pt3 - @ hyuckmov - 22k + 18k + 11k

two rules one problem - @ liliansun - 14.8k

eight letters - @ strwbbit - 11.8k

not a big deal - @ haeiheart - 3.8k

wanna bet? - @ ilovedinodino - 15.9k

birthday mayhem - @ nebularsung - 7.5k

under the influence - @ domjaehyun - 11.6k

tease - @ hyuckiefluff - 5.8k

call d - @ neocitylights - 12k

m.i.l.f (make it last forever) - @ ncteez - 18.9k

learning languages - @ tonicandjins - 18.5k

fast times - @ choerrypuffs - 7.6k

can we love - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.5k

carpe diem - @ kiachiako - 5.1k

lucky strike - @ heartseungs-archive - 2.3k

tan lines and hushed nights - @ ch3rryd0ll - 6k

dance to this - @ heartseungs-archive - 3.8k

sugar, butter, & the royal crown - @ haechwrites - 17.1k

wave 1, wave 2 - @ neowinestainedress - 22.4k + 20.3k

I faked my engagement for free cake samples and got sued after I ran away - @ choerrypuffs - 5.4k

aita for setting my my cheating exs car on fire? - @ choerrypuffs - 8.6k

[luviestarz]

lee haechan fic recs! part 3 ❤︎

❤︎ #1: meandom!haechan who's still weak for his gf - @hyuckmov

❤︎ Touch me - @byuntrash101 (with lots of love and patience haechan was able to heal your soul. with him it feels right and you are ready to take the next big leap)

❤︎ she’s quiet (s,f) - @ijuliet (although you were not looking to make new friends, the ones you had tried their hardest to push you out of your comfort zone to find something abnormal for you. which is why you’re at a frat party on a thursday night, watching as lee donghyuck observes you from afar.)

❤︎ falling in love with haechan - @ooshu

❤︎ stalker!haechan x fem!reader - @neocentral

❤︎ flustered by you - @lelengerine (your boyfriend surely knows how to make you flustered, even when he’s the one who should be.)

❤︎ Danger - @daegall (however, on one particular day, the epitome of 'danger’ shows up to your doorstep and is asking you on a date. you recognized this certain person as lee haechan, one of your art classmate, renjun’s, best buddies.)

❤︎ getting even | lee haechan (P1) - @ofjunemoment (Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.)

❤︎ double dog dare - @waithyuck (your best friends renjun and jeno decide that it would be funny to dare you to sit on the lap of your long time crush, lee donghyuck, during a college party.)

❤︎ ⇢ haechan as your boyfriend - @justalildumpling

❤︎ THE ONLY EXCEPTION - @jaylaxies (mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.)

❤︎  body language [l.dh] - @badalivie (You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.)

❤︎ pancakes for two - @pearlesscentt (haechan x reader, college!au)

❤︎ ❛NICE GUY❜ ( l. haechan ) - @luvyeni (in the midst of your stalker running lose you trust haechan , he seems like nice guy)

❤︎ all is fair in love and war - @lonelyharmonies (when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.)

❤︎ spur of the moment (ldh) - @haetrack

❤︎ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader - @yrqrnc (wherein, it’s a late afternoon and you’re watching your favorite series with your dearest boyfriend as you cuddle on the couch, but it seems that it’s physically impossible for you to keep your attention fixed on the large monitor in front of you, and not him.)

❤︎ impulse - @nctsworld (saying i love you for the first time during the heat of the moment doesn’t really count... right?)

❤︎ home is a feeling | lee donghyuck - @neonun-au (Fresh off a break-up, not willing to stomach spending Christmas single with your family, you book a last minute trip overseas to escape the impending loneliness, not realizing that perhaps running away from your feelings will only serve to intensify them. You arrive at your home-away-from-home only to find you’re not the only one staying there. Through some unfortunate (or not so unfortunate) mistake, the AirBnB you booked has also been booked by a handsome young man looking for a similar escape from his own life. Now you have to choose whether or not to stay and spend your Christmas with a stranger or scramble to find a lonely hotel room last minute over the holidays.)

❤︎ corny stuck under the bed scenario - @sherwees

❤︎ indica dreams | ldh - @hazyhae (when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it.)

❤︎ ( 📁 twenty minutes. by lee haechan ＿ ⭐ O1O1 ) - @lavandiors (where haechan finds you in the practice room and can't help but want you all to himself.)

❤︎ ⎯ sweet nothings… - @foolsunz (you’re going to be the death of him, he knows it.)

[7dreamedits]

[cbeargyu]

virgin's debut

A friendship can’t be ruined by having sex… can it?

⊹₊⋆ pairing: best friend!haechan x fem!reader x love interest!jaehyun (slight)

⊹₊⋆ warnings: angst, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers trope, protected sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls), fingering, making out, nudes, slowburn, suggestive redaction, mild cursing, reader is a virgin lol, haechan isn't, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance.

⊹₊⋆wc: 18,3K

READ THE PREVIEW [HERE]

Two weeks later

haechan sighed again, his chest heavy as he collapsed onto the couch. With both hands, he covered his face, fingers digging into his skin, trying to block out the past two weeks.

hyuck didn’t understand why there was this twisted mess of emotions swirling in his stomach, why his thoughts were so scattered, a jumble of "what ifs" and "should I's".

it had been two weeks since you made that insane proposition to him. haechan hadn’t talked much since then, just the occasional texts letting each other know when they’d left or entered the building they both lived in. the topic hadn’t come up, and you hadn’t pressured him either. but, god, it haunted him.

it was unthinkable. his values just wouldn’t allow it. sleeping with his best friend? never crossed his mind. but you—you weren’t just anyone. you’d been inseparable since high school. your sense of humor matched perfectly, and everyone knew the two of you were a damn force together. their friends noticed the bond, the way they both seemed to fit like puzzle pieces, always there for each other, even when they fought. like siblings, but with none of the blood ties.

that word, "siblings"—it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was strange that others saw them two like that. but they were okay with it. there were boundaries in their relationship, and crossing them was unforgivable.

of course, you were angelic. your bubbly personality and constant jokes made you irresistible. physically, you were gorgeous, though you were a bit shorter than him—way too short, maybe. you had black hair and an odd but cute bangs just above your eyebrows, something he liked to tease you about.

and yeah, you’d catch anyone’s eye. he wasn’t gonna lie—he’d had a crush on you when he first met you in high school. but over time, that romantic attraction faded as your friendship grew stronger.

maybe it was also the way you were so open with your thoughts—no filter, no shame—that when you asked him about sleeping together, it sounded completely natural to you. to him, though? It was a punch to the gut, a cold shower, a slap to the face. he was spinning, disoriented, trapped in what felt like a twisted fantasy—or maybe a nightmare.

for him, sex wasn’t a taboo subject. he’d lost his virginity at 17 to one of his many girlfriends, and talking about it was casual. hell, haechan didn’t even hold back when discussing the details of his past experiences with you. he’d even described how he’d "done it" in vivid detail—like it was nothing.

but you? you were different. you had dated three guys since high school, but none of those relationships lasted more than two months. so, you didn’t exactly know what it was like to be in a serious, long-term relationship. snd sex? It didn’t seem like a necessity in your life—at least not until now.

“I mean, when you’re dating someone romantically and nothing happens, i’d call that a win,” you said, casually munching on a slice of lemon tart.

haechan furrowed his brows, taking a sip of his coffee. “explain that.”

“it’s simple,” you shrugged. “because if they haven’t seen you naked, you can run into them on the street and not have to worry about that bastard seeing your ass.”

heck couldn’t help but laugh at your reasoning. “right, totally.”

you both chuckled, agreeing on that one. but he also knew, deep down, it wasn’t that simple for him. not anymore. he couldn’t ignore what was bubbling beneath the surface.

haechan felt a buzz in his pocket. his phone. the first class of the day was about to start, and he had to rush if he didn’t want to be late. he lived close to campus, just a five-minute walk, but the class was on the other side of the building.

but this situation? it was messing with his head so much that he couldn’t fall asleep until 3 AM these past two weeks. he grabbed his backpack and keys, about to head out when his phone buzzed again.

it was you. a message: “i’m heading to class, just leaving my apartment.”

haechan froze. he hadn’t expected you to text him now. his hand gripped the doorknob, but he didn’t open it. the thought of seeing you right now made his heart race. he wasn’t ready. not yet. he couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine.

"shit... y/n, what were you thinking?"

he sighed deeply. what was this? haechan could hear his own voice in his head, his thoughts like an endless storm. he couldn’t stop thinking about you—about what you had said, and about everything that had changed in such a short time. his stomach twisted. what would happen if he saw you now? could he face you? could he even be the same around you after what you had suggested?

he shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. He didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be easy.

haechan let out a deep sigh, adjusting his scarf around his neck before stepping out of his apartment. he tried to calm himself, convincing himself that he could handle whatever came next. as if nothing had happened. as if he could just brush it off and pretend it hadn’t been weighing on him for the past two weeks.

but every time he thought about it, it made his chest tighten. that proposal of yours. the way you had looked at him, so casually, as if it were no big deal. he couldn’t get it out of his mind. he had always been the life of the party, the one to make jokes and laugh things off. but this—this was different. it gnawed at him like an insistent itch he couldn’t scratch, a question with no answer.

he made his way to campus, each step seeming faster than the last, but his thoughts were tangled in a mess of confusion and frustration. you hadn’t seemed bothered. if anything, you had acted like it was just another conversation. you hadn’t even tried to talk to him about it again, hadn’t pressured him. but that only made it worse. the silence between you both was deafening. you had sent that message, but it wasn’t the same. it was as if you had moved on without even thinking about it, while he was still stuck in the same place, drowning in his thoughts.

it was absurd. he was known for being the carefree one, the one who didn’t let anything get to him. but now? now he was a mess. the more he tried to convince himself that it was no big deal, the harder it was to believe it. you had said it so easily, like it was a joke, and yet it had shattered something inside him. the truth was, he didn’t know how to look at you anymore. he didn’t know how to face you after that. how could he? after everything?

haechan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. his footsteps carried him toward the building, and the closer he got, the more his anxiety grew. he couldn’t avoid it forever. he’d have to see you eventually. the communication department wasn’t that big, and it seemed like the entire campus would lead him straight to you.

as he reached the entrance of the building, his alert system kicked in. you were probably inside already. and damn it, the thought of running into you—now, after everything—felt like a punch in the gut. you hadn’t even mentioned it again, hadn’t tried to force a conversation. yet he could feel it. the tension. the distance. how had it gotten to this? why did he feel so… disconnected?

he stopped for a second, hand resting against the doorframe, trying to breathe. but it was like everything had changed. nothing was simple anymore. he had been your best friend for so long, but now? now it felt like he was walking on eggshells, unsure of what would break first.

“hey.”

a light punch to his back snapped him out of his daze, and the blood immediately drained from his face. that voice—he couldn’t mistake it, not even if a million voices tried to mimic it. His breath hitched, and he turned around so fast it almost hurt.

there you were. small, as always. a knitted beanie sitting snug over your head, that— ridiculous—fringe barely brushing the tops of your brows, framing your delicate face in a way that made his throat dry. a long grey coat hung from your shoulders, swallowing you slightly, and your black boots clicked softly against the floor. everything about you looked… normal. the way you looked at him, the way you smiled, even the casual punch to his back.

physical contact.

that word echoed in his head like a siren. he quickly shook the thought away, locking his focus on the paper Starbucks bag dangling from your left hand. maybe you’d stopped by the café on the way. maybe you ordered delivery. maybe someone gave it to you. maybe—god, he needed to stop. the hamster in his brain was doing flips, and he wanted to knock some sense into himself.

you held the bag out toward him.

haechan just stared at it for a second, until you raised your eyebrows, shook it again, and snapped, “are you gonna take it or what?! geez, i brought it for you and you’re just standing there looking at it like an idiot.”

your expression twisted in mock annoyance, brows curved upward—but oddly, he felt the tightness in his chest ease a little.

reluctantly, haechan reached out and took the bag, brushing his fingers against yours for a second too long. he tried not to react, but his mind was a chaotic storm. He couldn’t help but look at you—really look.

had you always looked like this? that coat hugged your waist just enough. the shape of your figure was something he never let himself notice before. and your chest… jesus. it wasn’t like you’d suddenly changed, but it felt like someone had wiped the fog off his glasses. He was seeing you differently. entirely.

and that terrified him.

he lowered his eyes quickly, too aware of how warm his ears were getting.

“thanks,” he mumbled, voice a little hoarse.

“no problem,” you replied, glancing around casually. “i figured you might skip breakfast again, so…”

you trailed off with a small shrug, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets. haechan tried to smile, but his stomach was tangled in impossible knots.

haechan took another deep breath as he tried to collect himself, shifting the weight of the Starbucks bag from one hand to the other. he looked at you, trying to ignore the pull in his chest—the sudden awareness of every little detail about you. there was a tension he couldn’t shake off, something that sat heavy in his stomach.

you seemed to notice his distracted state and leaned against the wall, your usual easygoing posture, the same as always, except now, he couldn’t stop noticing how you looked in that oversized coat and those boots. he was spiraling again, caught in the thought of you.

“so…” you broke the silence, “i’ve been kind of swamped lately. working on this branding project for a client. it’s been a pain, though. my computer decided to die on me right when I needed it most.”

haechan raised an eyebrow, his mind snapping back to reality. “really? you didn’t tell me about it. why didn’t you ask for help? I mean, i know a thing or two about fixing computers. I could’ve helped you.”

you shrugged, a small, nonchalant smile playing at the corners of your lips. “nah, i called taeyong instead. he’s better with that stuff.”

there was a sharp tug in haechan’s chest. he hadn’t expected that. the knot in his stomach tightened, a wave of discomfort washing over him. taeyong? really?

he tried to laugh it off, but there was something bitter in his tone as he asked, “taeyong? why him? i thought you knew I was good with that kind of stuff.”

“yeah, well,” you quipped with a raised eyebrow, “taeyong just happened to be the first one I thought of. besides, he’s pretty quick with tech stuff.”

haechan’s smile was tight, and his stomach churned. he told himself it was nothing. he was being stupid. but why didn’t you ask him? he had always been there when your tech failed. it felt… weird. almost like you didn’t need him anymore. but, of course, he didn’t voice any of that. instead, he played it off, trying to act casual.

“sure, sure,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. he was so not handling this well. the thought of you asking someone else for help left him unsettled, and he hated how much it bothered him. It was irrational, but he couldn't shake it.

you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he pulled back just a little. your smile softened as you leaned forward slightly, breaking the silence again.

“hey,” you said gently, “i’m sorry if it upset you. it wasn’t meant to make you feel left out, really.”

haechan quickly looked up, trying to look unfazed. “nah, it’s fine. I mean, it's not like i’m the only one you can ask for help, right?” he joked, but there was an edge to his voice that didn’t quite match the tone of his words.

you raised your eyebrows, a knowing look in your eyes. “you’re acting like a total prude right now,” you said, a smirk forming. “didn’t you used to tell me all the crazy stuff you did with jang chanmi back in high school? and now the topic of helping a friend with a computer is freaking you out?”

haechan blinked, taken aback. the mention of chanmi, especially in the context of your teasing, was enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. he groaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to laugh it off. “well, that was different, okay? that was high school stuff.”

you chuckled, leaning back against the wall, clearly amused by his discomfort. “oh, come on. don’t tell me you’re too shy to talk about tech problems now. you used to explain every position you tried with her—like it was a lesson in geometry or something.”

haechan let out an exasperated sigh, not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful for the way you were managing to cut through the tension. he couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck, and he cursed under his breath. of all the people, you had to be the one to make him feel like a damn fool.

“well, that was different, okay? It’s... it’s not like i’m comfortable talking about that stuff with you anymore, alright?” he almost winced at his words. the last thing he wanted was to make it sound like he couldn’t be himself with you.

you tilted your head slightly, your tone playful but with a hint of mischief. “don’t worry, though. I just asked taeyong to help with the computer. i didn’t make the same proposal to him that i made to you.”

haechan’s eyes went wide. he froze, his face instantly flushing. did you really just say that? the sudden wave of heat rushing to his face felt like he was on fire. his brain scrambled for words, but all he could manage was a surprised, “wait, what?”

you laughed softly, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.

“you’re scared i’m gonna bring it up, aren’t you?”

“what? i—no, i’m fine,” he said too quickly, almost defensively. “just tired. you know, early class. cold outside. normal stuff.”

you didn’t say anything right away. just looked at him with that calm gaze of yours, the one that could read people like open books.

that hit him harder than expected. he flinched. swallowed. you tilted your head slightly.

“it’s okay,” you said, voice even. “if it made you uncomfortable… we don’t have to talk about it. ever. i’m not gonna ambush you or corner you or expect anything.”

haechan blinked. your tone was so mature, so measured—like you’d thought about this. like you knew what it had done to him.

“it was dumb of me,” you continued with a small smile. “or maybe not dumb, just… bold. and i get it, you didn’t sign up for that. so, if you want to forget it ever happened, consider it forgotten. clean slate.”

he didn’t know what to say. a hundred emotions jostled in his chest, fighting for space. gratitude. relief. guilt. and something else entirely—something heavier and harder to name.

because despite everything, despite the panic and confusion and awkward silences, you were still here. talking to him. offering him coffee. smiling at him like you always did.

but something had changed. he saw it in the way he noticed your lips when they moved. in the way his eyes lingered a beat too long on the curve of your body. in the way his mind kept circling back to that question you’d asked two weeks ago.

and the worst part?

haechan didn’t know if he wanted to go back to before.

before everything had shifted. before he started noticing all these things about you—things he had never allowed himself to see. he wasn’t sure if it was fear of the unknown or something else entirely, but the thought of things returning to how they were felt… difficult.

“anyway,” you said, standing up from the railing and brushing your hands off as if to clear the air between you. "i’ll see you later. don’t overthink it, alright?"

the casual way you said it made his chest tighten. he could feel that something was still unspoken, that there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t press. you were good at hiding what you truly felt, always had been.

haechan tried to push the conversation out of his mind as he entered his class on media studies. he sat down, pulling his notes in front of him and attempting to focus, but his thoughts were all over the place. his brain kept circling back to your words—had you meant everything you said? Was it really that simple for you?

the ice-cold americano you’d brought him sat on the edge of his desk. Its perfect arrangement, just the way he always liked it, made his chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t explain. he watched as droplets of water gathered on the glass, slowly tracing their way down to pool at the bottom.

he was distracted. but even more than that, he was feeling something he couldn’t quite name. his gaze wandered over the cold surface, the way the water clung to the glass—his mind drifting to you. to your smile. to the way your voice had lingered in his thoughts.

he imagined, for a moment, what it would be like if those droplets were slipping along your skin instead. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind had other plans. every thought that surfaced seemed to lead back to you—the curve of your lips, the way you had looked at him just before leaving.

his pulse quickened, a wave of heat rising to his face. he snapped back to reality, but the blush was already creeping up his neck. "what the hell am i doing?" he muttered under his breath, quickly looking down at his notes again, trying to focus. his mind refused to cooperate. why was he thinking about this now? why was his body reacting like this?

he could feel the tension rising, like a knot tightening in his stomach. he had never been this aware of you before—not like this. and the worst part was, he didn’t know how to stop it.

you buried your face in your hands, heart racing, panic rising in your chest. what had you done?

the proposal you made to haechan wasn’t random—not by a long shot. It came from somewhere raw, impulsive, and aching. you’d convinced yourself he would say yes. no hesitation. no second thoughts. that’s what your friends told you, right?

"guys are easy. especially when it comes to sex. they’re always down," yeri had said with a laugh, trying to encourage you. “come on, it’s haechan. he jokes about that stuff all the time.”

and maybe that was the worst part. because you believed her. you judged your best friend through a lens of assumption, reducing him to some stereotype, thinking he’d just say yes because he was a guy. because he was him.

but he didn’t.

and now you knew—you had judged him so, so wrong. haechan wasn’t like the guys in those stories your friends always told. he wasn’t thoughtless. he wasn’t careless. he was kind. and considerate. and the look on his face after your question… you could still see it. confused. hurt. maybe even disappointed. not because you asked, but because he didn’t know how to respond without breaking something between you.

the guilt clawed its way up your throat.

you hadn’t asked him just for the sake of it, either. it wasn’t some random experiment. it was desperation. because ever since last fall, ever since he came into the picture, something in you had changed.

jung jaehyun.

a senior in the visual arts department. tall, graceful, and unfairly good-looking—like he’d walked straight out of a perfume ad in a fashion magazine. chiseled jawline, smooth voice, perfect smile. the kind of man who turned heads in every hallway he walked through. girls whispered about him constantly—rumors, fantasies, stories that may or may not have been true. he was confident, magnetic, dangerous in that way only people who know they’re desired can be.

and of course, you weren’t immune.

you saw him at a few parties, caught glimpses of him sketching in the studio, his sleeves rolled up and headphones in, and felt a pull you didn’t fully understand. it wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a crush. it was curiosity. lust. a hunger you didn’t recognize as your own until it became too loud to ignore.

your friends told you to go for it. "just hook up with him," they said. "get it over with." but you couldn’t. you didn’t have the experience, the confidence, the… proof that you could be the kind of girl someone like jaehyun might want.

so you turned to the only person you trusted. the only one who made you feel safe, unjudged, seen.

haechan.

and now you’d hurt him.

you hadn’t just crossed a line—you’d shattered the trust he’d always given you so freely. all because you were afraid. because you wanted to prove something. because you thought he’d just say yes.

but he didn’t.

now you sat in the middle of your typography and composition class, surrounded by the soft clatter of keyboards and the low hum of your professor’s lecture, your laptop open in front of you and your adobe illustrator file untouched. letters floated on your screen in random positions, but your brain couldn’t form a single coherent thought. you weren’t even sure what the assignment was supposed to be.

your body was there—but your mind was somewhere else entirely. caught in the swirl of embarrassment, regret, and confusion. a storm of emotion you didn’t know how to calm. all you could think was: what have I done?

it had been a week since that conversation. on the surface, everything seemed fine—like a reset button had been pressed. you and haechan still exchanged jokes, shared snacks, and sat next to each other in class. but underneath the laughter and casual glances, there was a strange hollowness, like the two of you had become actors reciting old lines in a play that didn’t fit anymore. robotically pretending the elephant in the room didn’t exist, even though its shadow loomed over every interaction. after all, everything had already been said, hadn’t it?

still, something was off.

haechan hadn’t hooked up with anyone since then. it wasn’t for lack of trying—he’d gone out, flirted, danced—but each time, his mind wandered back to you. and it wasn’t just idle thoughts. no, it was worse.

every night that week, he'd woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing, and a painful hardness straining against his boxers. dreams of you—wearing almost nothing, bent in suggestive positions, whispering filthy things in his ear, inviting him to taste you, to touch you—played on a loop in his subconscious. but right when he was about to finally reach you, melt into you, he’d wake up frustrated and breathless. left with no choice but to slip his hand under the waistband and relieve the aching pressure. for serotonin. for oxytocin. for sanity.

now, it was saturday night and he was stuck at work.

the burger place was dead quiet. maybe it was the cold snap that had settled over the city, keeping everyone snuggled up in their homes instead of venturing out for greasy fast food. Haechan didn’t mind, really. he was sick of putting on his fake retail voice—“welcome! Fries with that?”—and dealing with people who didn’t say thank you. right now, he was working the closing shift, wearing the stiff black uniform cap and flipping patties that hissed on the flat top grill. the whole place smelled of grilled beef, fryer oil, and cheap pickles. his coworkers were goofing off while mopping the floor and stacking chairs, and haechan, while half-listening to their jokes, was just counting the minutes till he could clock out and go back to bed.

that was when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

unknown number.

haechan hesitated. he barely ever answered unknown numbers, but something in his gut told him to pick up.

“hello?”

“HAECHAN!”

a girl’s voice. loud, panicked. He blinked.

“…who is this?”

“it’s seojung—y/n’s friend. you probably don’t remember me. we met, like, once.”

oh. right. you had sent him the numbers of your friends months ago, just in case. he’d never saved them.

“yeah, uh—what’s up?”

“it’s y/n,” she said quickly.

the emergency button in his brain went off.

“what happened? is she okay?! did something happen to her?”

“well—kind of?”

apparently, you’d gone out for a girls’ night. a little bar in the city downtown. everything was fine, until you’d gotten verydrunk. so drunk, in fact, you couldn’t even hold your head up, slurring nonsense, sobbing into seojung’s shoulder.

haechan grabbed his jacket before she even finished explaining.

“she kept saying… uh, really weird stuff,” seojung added nervously. “like—please don’t be mad, okay?—but she was screaming in the middle of the street that she was gonna die a virgin because her own best friend refused to help her.”

haechan stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. “she said what?”

“i know! i was like, girl, stop embarrassing yourself! but she kept going. she even tried to climb on a statue to do a dramatic monologue or something, it was chaos.”

the line went quiet for a second.

“anyway,” seojung continued, “we can’t take her to the dorms—they don’t let us bring people in after curfew, and she’s way too far gone to be alone. you’re the only person she might listen to. can you come get her?”

“i’m on my way,” haechan said without hesitation, already sprinting out the back door. he didn’t even clock out. his coworkers just watched in stunned silence as he bolted into the freezing night air, hoodie half-zipped, hair disheveled, heart pounding.

he didn’t know exactly what he’d find when he got there.

but part of him was already bracing for it.

despite the cold weather, you had decided to wear a short velvet dress, sheer black tights, and an oversized puffer jacket that looked hilariously disproportionate on you—but also kind of cute. haechan blinked twice when he realized the jacket was his. the one he’d been looking for since last week. seeing you in it made his chest do something strange, tight and warm, like a coil winding in his ribs.

you looked disoriented, your makeup slightly smudged, your eyes glassy but still sparkly. your long legs peeked out from under the hem of the dress, knees wobbling as you leaned heavily on seojung for support. Behind her were yeri and jimin—both trying to look casual but clearly avoiding haechan’s gaze.

“sorry for calling so suddenly,” seojung said with an awkward smile, shifting nervously on her feet. “we didn’t know who else to call…”

“she just kept saying your name,” yeri added, crossing her arms.

“she’s been… emotional,” jimin muttered, eyes darting to the side. “also—sorry for… earlier stuff.”

the three girls looked anywhere but at haechan. there was something stiff in the air, a subtle frost behind their polite words. they knew what had happened. they knew he’d rejected you.

“thanks for looking after her,” haechan said simply, ignoring the tension as he gently took your arm. you mumbled something about “fuck friendship” and “i’ll die a virgin anyway,” making all three girls wince in embarrassment.

after quick goodbyes, they left hurriedly. haechan helped you into a cab, the inside warm and dimly lit, smelling faintly of peppermint and old leather.

“address?” the driver asked.

haechan rattled it off. the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.

“cute couple,” he said.

“oh—we’re not—” haechan began, but the man cut him off.

“young love. must be nice,” he chuckled. “leaving work in the middle of your shift to take care of your drunk girlfriend. that’s real devotion, son.”

haechan opened his mouth to correct him again, but then—

“HE REJECTED ME!” you suddenly shouted, head lolling dramatically to the side. “I asked him to have sex with me and he SAID NO.”

yhe cab fell into a stunned silence.

“…ah,” the driver finally said. “one-sided love, then.”

haechan wanted to crawl out of the moving car and disappear into the road. yhe driver shook his head sympathetically.

“you’re making a mistake, boy,” he said gravely. “a pretty lady like this? she won’t wait forever. you two already look like a couple. all that’s missing is the kiss.”

haechan glanced down at you, now slumped against his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. your makeup was a mess, your breath reeked of gin and lime, and you were clutching the hem of his jacket like it was your last lifeline.

and somehow, even like this, you looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

haechan stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver, the man's words echoing in his head like a song stuck on repeat. “you’re letting a good girl slip away…” he shouldn’t care what some stranger thought, but there was something about the way the guy said it — confident, certain — that made the sentence stick like honey to the roof of his mouth.

he turned around just in time to see you stepping out of the cab in your short dress, sheer tights hugging your legs, and a massive oversized jacket drowning your frame. his oversized jacket.

his breath caught a little. you looked both sexy and soft — long, graceful legs out in the cold, but your face flushed from alcohol and framed by the collar of his jacket. somehow, even in that state, you looked... perfect.

“you know where we are, right?” he asked gently, offering you his hand.

you nodded lazily, squinting at the familiar entrance of your apartment complex. but instead of walking toward it, you turned to him, a sly, sleepy smile playing on your lips.

“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you said, voice low and vaguely suggestive.

haechan blinked. “you need to sleep. you’re drunk.”

“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you repeated, this time slower, like you were daring him to challenge you. “i lost my keys.”

“you what?” his voice cracked as he stared at you in disbelief. “where the hell are you gonna sleep then?”

you tilted your head, your eyes glinting under the streetlight. “with you.”

silence.

haechan’s mouth opened slightly, the color rushing to his face like fire. he stammered, trying to find the words — to remind you of your promise, of how you said you'd drop this whole thing and start over.

but before he could say a word, you leaned forward with a groan and threw up directly into a nearby bush.

“oh, shit—” he muttered, rushing to hold you. he gathered your hair, gently rubbed your back, whispering reassurances under his breath. “okay, okay, it’s fine… just let it out…”

eventually, you straightened up, eyes glassy, cheeks damp from the cold wind. he sighed and wrapped an arm around you, leading you toward his place — your weight half-slumped against him.

inside, the warmth of his small apartment wrapped around you both. he carefully sat you on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, filling a glass of water and setting a tea kettle on the stove.

you watched him in silence for a moment before breaking it. “i know what i said,” you murmured. “About letting it go. About forgetting. but i can’t. i literally can’t.”

he froze, slowly turning toward you.

“i feel like a hormonal teenager,” you laughed bitterly, wiping your mouth. “I keep thinking about you. about what i asked you. about what it would be like.”

“y/n…” he warned gently, setting the water beside you.

“i have this thing,” you blurted. “with my sunbae. jung jaehyun. he’s… god, he’s stupidly hot. tall, broad shoulders, perfect hair, every girl wants him. he only sleeps with older women — the kind who know what they’re doing. and I just… i don’t want to disappoint him.”

haechan’s expression darkened, not with anger, but something deeper. “so you wanted to use me as practice?” he asked, voice low.

“i’m not trying to use you,” you said, firm but vulnerable. “you’re my best friend. i trust you more than anyone. and you’re… you’re good at it.”

haechan blinked. “what?”

“you’re good in bed.”

he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “and how the hell do you know that?”

you gave a half-smirk. “you talk about it all the time, remember? bragging about your conquests like a walking NSFW podcast. you made it sound like you practically invented foreplay.”

haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “god, I was joking half the time—”

“but that’s exactly why i asked you in the first place,” you cut in, locking eyes with him. “because there’s no one else i’d trust for something like this. and let’s be honest—” you tilted your head with a teasing smile. “it’s not like you’ve gotten laid recently either.”

his jaw tensed. “i’m not desperate for sex, y/n.”

“oh, really?” you raised an eyebrow. “so those midnight jerk-off sessions because of your dreams about me are just… what? a new coping mechanism?”

his face burned red. “how do you—?!”

“i may have heard a little something.” you sipped your water dramatically. “you’re not as quiet as you think.”

“i hate you,” he muttered under his breath, turning away to hide the growing smirk on his lips.

“no, you don’t.”

you stood up slowly, unsteady but serious, your eyes fixed on his. “if we did this… it would be safe. familiar. no weirdness. just… two people helping each other out.”

“that’s not what this is about for you though, is it?” he said, voice low.

you looked away for a moment before answering. “no. It’s not just that. i want to feel… wanted. i want to be good at this. and yeah… I want to impress jaehyun. but i also… want it to be with someone who won’t hurt me.”

and for a moment, everything was quiet. the only sound was the water boiling and both your hearts pounding.

he exhaled sharply, frustrated — but not just at you. At himself. At this whole ridiculous night.

then, haechan stepped closer.

he leaned over, hands gripping the back of the couch, caging you in — his face mere inches from yours. you froze. Your breath hitched. your fingers clenched around the glass.

then, without thinking, you kissed him.

it was messy. desperate. tasting of beer and heat and something reckless.

he kissed you back — just for a second — his hand cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. but then he pulled away suddenly, breath heavy, pupils blown wide.

“you’re drunk,” he said, voice hoarse. “i'm not kissing you like this.”

you blinked up at him, breathless.

“but if i weren’t?” you whispered.

he didn’t say anything.

but the fire in his eyes gave you all the answer you needed.

and that silence? it was louder than anything either of you had said all night.

that night, haechan slept on the couch, buried under a mess of blankets. you, on the other hand, took his bed — warm with freshly changed sheets and a white oversized t-shirt that smelled like him. he’d also lent you a hoodie for the cold, soft and worn from use.

when he asked if you'd prefer to sleep with the door shut for privacy, you shook your head and left it cracked open. Just slightly. maybe it was a silent invitation. maybe a part of you hoped he'd come in.

but he didn’t.

haechan's self-control was ironclad. he wouldn't touch you — not like that, not when you were drunk, no matter how much you asked. and you had asked. desperately.

by morning, your head throbbed with a brutal hangover. the light leaking through the blinds was cruel and unforgiving. still half-asleep, you blinked at the side table — a glass of water and a neatly placed pill waited for you. of course he remembered.

you padded out into the living room, barefoot, limbs aching. the smell of warm broth hit you first. then the quiet hum of a streamer's voice coming from his computer.

haechan sat hunched at the small dining table, glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly tousled from sleep. he was watching some gaming livestream, lazily slurping noodles from a bowl of ramen. a small pot sat between you, steam still curling up, and beside it — another bowl.

you noticed the sausage in the pot had been sliced perfectly small, just the way you liked. he always remembered little things like that.

your stomach twisted, not with hunger, but something softer. deeper.

without saying anything, haechan patted the seat beside him. you moved toward him slowly, like you were walking through a dream. he didn’t look at you — just kept his eyes on the screen as he grabbed the second bowl, carefully ladling ramen into it while glancing back and forth between the pot and your bowl to avoid making a mess.

you let out a quiet, involuntary giggle.

he glanced up at you then — his lips curved ever so slightly. and that's when you noticed it: his thick-rimmed glasses. the ones he only wore when he was deep into gaming or editing something late at night. they made him look effortlessly cool. casual. comfortable.

and stupidly handsome.

“thanks,” you murmured, your voice still hoarse from sleep and dehydration. “for… last night. picking me up.”

he didn’t respond at first — just nodded once, still watching the screen. no mention of the kiss. no mention of your drunken confession. nothing. just silence.

the elephant between you had never been bigger.

you glanced sideways again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes — deep and tired. he’d barely slept.

“you okay?” you asked gently.

“i’m fine,” he said, pushing up his glasses with a knuckle. “you had it worse.”

you looked down at the bowl in front of you, steam rising like it was trying to fill the silence. you slurped a noodle quietly, chewing.

that’s when you noticed something else.

the shape of his jaw as he ate — sharp, cut like stone under soft skin. you’d seen him eat ramen a hundred times, but this was the first time you really looked. the way his throat moved when he swallowed. the subtle flex of his neck. his collarbone peeking from under his hoodie. even the slope of his nose and the way his glasses rested perfectly above his cheekbones.

he wasn’t just your best friend. he was… really attractive.

painfully so.

and that realization made your stomach clench — not from the hangover, but from something dangerously close to want.

you sat there, fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic of the ramen bowl, the heat grounding you as your mind spun.

“hey…” your voice came out soft, hesitant. “about last night—”

the sound of his chopsticks hitting the table made you jump. it wasn’t loud, but it was enough. enough to cut through the quiet and slice the conversation before it could begin.

haechan didn’t look at you. his jaw tensed as he stared at the table, hands clenched loosely on either side of his bowl.

you froze. unsure.

he inhaled through his nose, controlled, calculated. then, finally, he spoke. “if you’re done eating… maybe you should call a locksmith. for your apartment.”

your stomach dropped.

just like that, the warmth left the room. or maybe it was still there, but it couldn’t reach you anymore.

“o-oh.” you blinked. “yeah… right. my keys.”

he stood up slowly, not rushed, just… distant. like something inside him had gone cold.

you watched him close the laptop screen with one hand, then gather his bowl and yours, moving with quiet efficiency. not meeting your gaze once.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. the shift was too sharp, too sudden. it left you sitting there like a statue, hands still wrapped around the now lukewarm bowl.

“i’ll wash these,” he muttered, almost to himself.

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your throat was tight, words caught somewhere between confusion and guilt. you hadn’t meant to ruin the morning. hadn’t meant to push.

but there it was again — the elephant. bigger than ever.

and this time, haechan had chosen to turn his back on it.

you stood up slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. he was already at the sink, rinsing the dishes like it was any other sunday. like nothing happened. like you hadn’t kissed him. like you hadn’t confessed the things that had been burning you from the inside out.

but your eyes were stuck on his back. the slope of his shoulders. the way his hoodie clung slightly at the waist. and still — that feeling. that gnawing ache deep in your chest.

he was right there. and still, he felt so far away.

“haechan…” your voice barely carried.

he didn’t turn around.

you bit your lip. hard. maybe you had crossed a line. maybe he was just being kind last night, and you mistook it for something else. maybe—

“i need to shower,” he said abruptly, setting the last plate down. “you can use my phone to call someone.”

and then he was gone, the bathroom door closing with a click that echoed too loudly in the silence he left behind.

you were alone again.

but this time, it hurt more than it should’ve.

your phone was still dead.

you hadn’t charged it since last night, and at this point, it didn’t matter. you weren’t exactly in the mood to speak to anyone else anyway.

you curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, arms wrapping tightly around them like they could somehow protect you from the weight pressing on your chest. you stared blankly ahead, trying to piece together what went wrong.

you hadn’t meant to make things weird. you hadn’t meant to cross a line. and yet… you did. and now, all of it felt like a mistake unraveling at your feet.

you chewed on your lip, eyes unfocused.

was it when you asked to stay with him? or when you told him the truth — that you couldn’t stop thinking about him, that you wanted to learn with him because you trusted him? maybe it was the kiss. that moment, hazy and laced with beer, when you leaned in and felt his lips move against yours. he kissed you back. you were sure of it.

but now… maybe it wasn’t enough. or maybe it was too much.

the sound of the bathroom door opening pulled you from your spiral. you looked up, heart stuttering in your chest.

haechan stepped out, steam drifting behind him in lazy clouds. his black t-shirt clung to his skin slightly, still damp from the shower. his sweatpants sat low on his hips, and around his neck hung a white towel, which he used intermittently to ruffle through his damp, dark hair.

he looked surprised to see you still there.

his expression flattened quickly, going unreadable. “you still haven’t called the locksmith?”

you didn’t answer.

he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, towel dragging with it. “y/n…”

but you were already crying.

your face was turned away, but he saw the tremble in your shoulders, the way your hands gripped tighter around your legs. the soft sound of you trying not to make a sound.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your own words. “i ruined everything.”

he went quiet.

“i should’ve never suggested that,” you continued, barely audible. “i didn’t mean to treat you like you’re some— some kind of object. i was just thinking about myself. about what i wanted. and that was selfish. i wasn’t thinking about you.”

he still didn’t move.

“i just—” you swallowed thickly, lifting your head to look at him through blurry eyes. “i wasn’t trying to use you. i swear. i… i just trust you. you’re my best friend. and maybe i took that too far. i just… i feel like i’ve messed everything up.”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t even have to say anything. your face this morning said it all.”

for a second, haechan just looked at you. his gaze scanned your face — your tear-stained cheeks, your trembling mouth. the regret swimming in your eyes.

then he sighed and walked closer. dropped the towel onto the coffee table. crouched down in front of you.

“you’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said, voice softer now. “and yeah, maybe last night was messy. maybe we said shit we weren’t supposed to. but… you didn’t ruin anything.”

your breath hitched.

he leaned in, resting a hand gently on your knee.

“you’re not selfish for wanting something. and you’re not using me. i know you.” his voice dropped a bit, more intimate now. “maybe that’s why it’s so hard to pretend it didn’t affect me.”

you blinked. “…what?”

he looked up at you from where he knelt. “you said… kissing could help calm you down. remember?”

your eyes widened.

he tilted his head, a small, careful smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

“so… if it helps…” he leaned closer, letting his hand trail up your thigh. “i could kiss you again.”

you stopped breathing.

your lips parted, unsure of what to say. but your body moved before your brain could catch up. you leaned in.

he met you halfway.

this kiss was different. slower. more controlled. still tasting faintly of mint and something warm, like cinnamon from the tea he’d made earlier. his hand cradled your cheek this time, thumb brushing softly beneath your eye.

it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t hungry.

but it burned.

and then he pulled back, just barely.

“but only when you’re sober,” he whispered against your lips, breath warm. “only when you really mean it.”

you nodded slowly, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

“okay,” you breathed. “okay.”

and for now — that was enough.

a few weeks passed.

you had finally gotten a replacement set of keys and returned to your apartment. that weekend was a blur of mundane things—scrubbing your bathroom floor until your arms ached, catching up on overdue sketches, finishing the last pages of an assignment you’d been dodging for weeks. you needed the quiet. the stillness. a chance to feel like yourself again.

but even in your own bed, the cold side of the sheets reminded you of that one night you hadn’t slept alone.

the kiss with haechan had, strangely, softened everything between you. the awkwardness melted away like snow on sunlit pavement. now, you were gentler with each other. your laughter came easier. your glances lingered longer. but the elephant—the weight of what that kiss meant—never left. it simply learned to sit quietly in the corner.

on tuesday afternoon, you were leaving the print room when you nearly ran into jaehyun.

"whoa, careful, pretty girl," he said, catching your elbow with a hand that felt way too steady, too confident.

“sorry,” you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. jaehyun always looked like he belonged in some magazine spread—jaw carved from stone, lashes too long for someone that smug, silver rings glinting against his fingers like he knew where the light would hit.

“what brings you over here?” he asked, eyeing your sketch tube slung across your shoulder.

“professor cho. needed some stuff for his class. he’s on his power trip again.”

“classic,” he smirked. “listen… we’re having something this friday. low-key. not one of those packed, flyer-in-the-bathroom kind of things. just a curated crowd. people who get it.”

your brow arched. “curated?”

he laughed. “yeah. you know. people with taste.”

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“you should come,” he added, stepping a little closer. “might help with that tension you’ve been carrying around.”

“what tension?” you teased.

he leaned in, eyes flicking down your face. “the kind that makes you think too much. sometimes you gotta stop overanalyzing and just feel it.”

“feel what?”

his smile was maddening. “depends who you end up with.”

you laughed it off, but your cheeks were already warm. maybe he was flirting. maybe he wasn’t. either way, the idea sat in your chest like a dare.

you thought about it all the way back to your place. and later that night, lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, you let yourself wonder what it’d be like to… try. to stop guessing what sex felt like and actually find out. you didn’t want to rush it. but you didn’t want to keep floating in uncertainty either.

and somewhere else on campus, haechan couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

he was standing in the backroom of the burger place, mirror fogged with steam, face damp and flushed from another rush. and there you were. again. in his head. like you’d carved a space he couldn’t seal shut.

he felt pathetic.

like some teenage boy discovering self-pleasure for the first time. except it wasn’t discovery—it was addiction. every night, without fail, his body woke him up with a pulse he couldn’t ignore. his hand would slide beneath the waistband of his sweats, his breath shallow, mind full of you. always you.

and god, those lips.

maybe he should’ve never kissed you.

but the second your mouth touched his, something inside him had snapped. like it had been waiting for that moment all along. you’d kissed him with a kind of messy urgency—too fast, too eager, bumping teeth before finding a rhythm. but then came the softness. the unspoken need. the trust. you had tasted like beer and breath mints and something far too intimate for a one-time thing.

now, he couldn’t un-feel it.

behind the counter, he’d zone out mid-shift, hands wet from dishes, and suddenly he’d remember the way you had moaned into his mouth. the way you had gripped his hoodie like you were holding on for dear life. the way your body had melted into his.

he couldn’t stop picturing you in that black dress, jacket slipping off your shoulder, legs crossed like a sin. or the way your lips had parted when you looked at him like you needed more. like you wanted him.

and at night—his room dark, quiet, too warm—he would close his eyes and imagine your thighs on either side of his hips. your voice whispering his name. your nails on his skin.

he used to admire you from a safe place. used to think of you as a friend, maybe even a muse. now? now he couldn’t look at you without imagining what it would be like to bury his face between your legs. to ruin you a little. just enough.

he hated how much he needed it.

he hated how much he missed the feel of your mouth on his.

he hated that he wanted more.

you were stepping out of your digital illustration class, bag slung over your shoulder, neck stiff from hunching over your campaign poster project. when you exited the building, you spotted him right away—haechan, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his backpack straps like he’d been waiting a while.

you always found him there these days.

“hey,” you said, breathless from the stairs. “thanks for waiting. again.”

he gave a casual shrug. “you make it sound like i have a life.”

“do you?”

“…not really.”

you both smiled.

as you walked side by side, the sun cast long shadows behind you, painting the concrete in soft amber. you weren’t touching. but it felt like you were. something invisible had always linked you two. lately, though—it tugged harder.

“so,” you said, voice light, “i think i’m gonna go to that party. tomorrow”

he blinked. “jaehyun’s?”

you nodded. “he made it sound... exclusive.”

“and you’re going?”

you smirked at his tone. “might be an opportunity.”

he stiffened beside you. “opportunity for what?”

you gave him a look. “you know what.”

he stopped. “you’re really gonna sleep with him?”

your cheeks flared, heart skipping. “no. it’s not like that. i just… maybe it’s time to try. get some answers.”

you watched his face carefully. saw the way his jaw locked. the way his brows twitched.

“but,” you added softly, “if it happens… it happens.”

and then, bold as ever, you turned to him. “unless you still wanna help me.”

his breath caught.

“we already kissed,” you said, eyes steady on his. “feels like we’ve done half the homework. next part’s sex, right? that’s what comes after. and you—you’re the one who used to brag about how good you were at it.”

he looked like you’d cornered him. because you had.

“remember those nights you’d ramble about girls? ‘her tits are insane’, ‘i’d fold her in a second’—that was you, haechan. your words.”

he swallowed, hard. “i didn’t think you were listening.”

“i always listen to you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “especially when you talk about what you like.”

and then, with a wicked grin: “and let’s be honest. guys lose their minds over tits and ass. that’s not complicated.”

his silence told you everything.

you took one step closer, slow and steady.

“so?” you asked again, quieter now. “are you still willing to help me?”

and he didn’t answer.

not with words.

but you saw it in his eyes—the panic, the desire, the war between instinct and restraint.

you had no idea how long he could keep resisting.

but you were getting closer to finding out.

the night felt quieter than usual when they arrived at your apartment. your didn’t speak. the walk there had been filled with those kinds of silences that don’t necessarily feel awkward, but make you too aware of your own thoughts. you walked a few steps ahead of haechan, and he found himself watching you — the way your fingers twisted nervously, the slight tension in your shoulders, the soft sway of your hair brushing your back. he could tell she was unsure. and if he was being honest, so was he.

he’d never seen you like this before. not really. not in this light. there’d always been this boundary between both of you, this invisible thread that kept everything just on the edge of becoming something else. but lately… it had changed. the way she looked at him lingered a little longer. the way he touched you — in small, passing moments — felt less like habit and more like gravity. and right now, standing in the dim glow of your apartment, he realized just how close you were to crossing that invisible line.

he stands close, but not touching, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of careful intensity that makes your skin warm.

you unlock the door without saying a word, your fingers fumbling slightly. you can feel his eyes on you, not judging, just watching. when you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

inside, it’s quiet. you cross the room and sit on the edge of your bed, heart racing.

he doesn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. you feel his eyes on your back as you drop your keys onto the counter, your breath shaky, heart pacing with something you don’t quite understand but desperately want to. when you finally turn around to face him, he’s already watching you — not with that usual teasing smile, but with something heavier, deeper. something that feels like want.

you turned to face him, eyes uncertain, but there was something else behind them. something softer. something raw. “i want to do it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“still thinking about your plan?” he asks softly, voice calm, like he’s trying not to spook you.

you nod slowly. “i just… i want to be good for jaehyun.”

his jaw tightens just a little, barely noticeable. but his voice doesn’t change. “you’re trying to learn how to please someone else,” he says, stepping closer, “when you haven’t even taken the time to learn yourself.”

you blink, suddenly unsure. “i thought… that’s what you were going to help me with.”

he exhales gently, closing the space between you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. “i will. but only if you let me take the lead. if you trust me completely. no pretending. no rushing. just… you. raw. honest.”

your breath catches in your throat. something about the way he says it, the quiet authority in his tone, the way he looks at you like he already knows your body better than you do — it makes you ache in places you’ve barely dared to explore on your own.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “i’ll do whatever you say.”

his eyes soften. there’s something unspoken there — a tension that’s been building between you for longer than you realized. and now it’s finally unraveling.

“then take off your clothes,” he says, his voice low, steady. “lie back.”

your fingers feel clumsy, nerves fluttering in your chest as you undress. he doesn’t look away. his gaze follows every inch of skin you reveal like he’s memorizing you. but it never feels invasive. it feels… reverent. when you’re finally bare, you lie down, body exposed, unsure, vulnerable. he doesn’t move right away. he just watches, like he’s waiting for you to fully settle into the moment.

“you’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “but i’m not going to touch you until i see that you believe it, too.”

you want to believe it. you want to feel beautiful in your own skin, not just because someone else says it, but because something inside you says you deserve to be. but right now, all you feel is nervous. exposed. seen.

he kneels at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re safe,” he murmurs. “you’re in control. i’m just guiding you.”

his hand touches your thigh, light as air, and your breath stutters. the warmth of his palm spreads through you like liquid, grounding and electric all at once. he doesn’t rush. his fingers explore slowly, tracing the curve of your hip, the softness of your stomach, the inside of your thigh. each touch is a question, and your breath is the answer.

when his fingers finally find you, you gasp — not because it’s too much, but because it’s perfect. just enough. just right. he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. he simply explores, watching every reaction, every shift of your hips, every shaky breath you take like it’s the only thing that matters.

his fingers finally reach where you need them, but he doesn’t go straight for it — no, he teases, tracing along the outer edge of your heat, making you gasp at the sudden jolt of electricity. your hips shift instinctively, seeking friction, but his free hand presses gently against your stomach, grounding you.

“easy,” he murmurs. “we’re not rushing. i want to feel every part of you fall apart.”

your head tips back against the pillow, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers finally slip between your folds — gentle at first, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. he exhales softly, as if the heat of you surprises even him.

“relax,” he whispers. “feel. don’t think about what’s next. just stay with me. here.”

his fingers stroke you with a patience you didn’t know could exist, learning your body like it’s a language only he can understand. you’re wet, embarrassingly so, and he seems to revel in it, the way your body responds to his touch. he circles your clit with slow, practiced motions, his thumb brushing over you with maddening precision. you’re moaning now, soft and quiet, not even realizing the sounds are yours.

“fuck,” he whispers. “you’re soaked.”

your cheeks flush, but any embarrassment is quickly replaced by want as he finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your legs tremble.

you whimper his name, voice barely there, and his response is a low groan against your skin. “that’s it, baby. let me hear you.”

his mouth is everywhere now — at your neck, your chest, sucking marks into your skin like he wants to claim you, mark you, make you his. and god, part of you wants it too — wants to be wanted like this, worshipped like this.

his fingers move lower, one pressing gently at your entrance, testing. “you okay?” he asks, voice soft but thick with desire.

“yes,” you gasp, clutching at his wrist. “please.”

your hips begin to move on their own, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. the pressure is building, coiling deep inside your core, unfamiliar and terrifying and addictive. he slips a finger inside you, slow and gentle, curling just right, and you cry out, your body clenching around him without meaning to.

“h-hyuck...” you cried.

“you like that?” he asks, voice rough now, closer to a groan than a whisper. you nod frantically, unable to form words, your hands gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing.

he slides in slow, giving you time to adjust, watching your face the whole time. his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in time with the slow push of his finger. your breath stutters, and he leans in to kiss you, stealing the sound from your lips.

you moan into his mouth, overwhelmed, undone, as he adds a second finger, the stretch just enough to make your back arch. he curls them just right, finding that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.

“there it is,” he groans, his lips brushing yours. “fuck, you feel so good.”

you can’t answer. you can barely think. all you can do is feel — the heat building inside you, the pull of release so close you can taste it.

“don’t hold back,” he whispers against your neck. “i want to feel you fall apart for me.”

and when he starts moving faster — fingers pumping deep and sure, thumb pressing harder against your clit — it’s too much. the pressure breaks, crashing over you like a tidal wave. your body tenses, then shatters, crying out his name as you come harder than you ever have before.

he holds you through it, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his fingers slow but don’t leave you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him, boneless and gasping.

“let go,” he murmurs again, lips brushing against your ear. “don’t hold back. i’ve got you.”

his thumb presses harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster, more deliberate, and the pressure explodes inside you, all at once — a wave crashing over your body with violent tenderness. you cry out, shaking, the world narrowing to nothing but heat and light and the sound of his voice grounding you as your orgasm rips through you.

he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. his breath is ragged, his eyes full of something you don’t quite understand — but you feel it in your chest. raw. intense. real.

“you don’t know what you just did to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

your body arches, muscles tightening, breath gone, and everything — everything — goes quiet except for the echo of your release.

and when you open your eyes to meet his, you realize something terrifying and beautiful — you don’t think you’ll ever look at him the same again.

your back pressed against the sheets, your skin bare under the dim, golden light of your room, your breath already shaky as haechan settles beside you, fully clothed, fully in control. you should feel nervous, and maybe you do, but it’s buried under something stronger — something warmer. the way he’s looking at you now is enough to make you forget how to breathe.

haechan sits on the edge of your bed, staring at his hand—now clean—like he can’t believe what just happened. his breath is heavier than he wants to admit. his thoughts are scrambled, the feeling of touching you, of showing you something he never thought he’d share, overwhelms him. something inside him burns, something he doesn’t know if it’s frustration or desire, but he feels it with an intensity he can’t control.

when you step out of the shower, your skin still warm from the hot water, he stays there, still. you go through your skincare routine, but every movement seems to echo in him more than it should. the way your fingers brush against your face, the way you move... everything feels different now. he watches in silence, the space between you now thick with something unspoken.

“i didn’t think it would feel like that,” you say softly, breaking the silence. your voice has a tremor you can’t hide. “thank you... for helping me.”

the gesture feels sincere, but there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel exposed. he doesn’t quite understand it. he tells himself it’s fine, that he’s just helping you, that he’s just being there for you. but his body betrays him, his jaw tightens, and his fingers twitch at his side.

“you don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. “you just needed to know yourself. that’s all.”

you pause, pressing moisturizer into your skin, still feeling that soft hum in your body, a low buzz you can’t seem to shake off. it’s from what happened, but you try to tell yourself it’s just the adrenaline, just nerves. nothing more.

“i think i can handle things now,” you reply, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror. “maybe tomorrow at the party... i’ll kiss jaehyun, just see how it goes. no pressure. i don’t want to rush.”

the moment the words leave your mouth, you feel it—the way the air shifts between you two. you don’t mean to look at haechan when you say jaehyun’s name, but you do. and his eyes flicker for just a second, something hard behind them that he quickly hides. he doesn’t react out loud, but his shoulders stiffen, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

“yeah,” he says, his voice controlled, but you can hear the tightness underneath. “sounds like a good idea. you deserve to figure out what you want.”

you smile, trying to lighten the mood, but something in you catches as you look at him. you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing, but you’re not sure why. haechan doesn’t look at you anymore. he stares at the floor, his jaw working like he’s holding something back.

he doesn’t let himself show it. he can’t. you’re his best friend, and he promised to help you, to guide you, not to get caught up in his own feelings. but with every word you speak, with every step you take toward jaehyun, something deep inside him twists.

he’s tasted something he shouldn’t want. and now, the thought of you with someone else—even someone you love—is unbearable.

still, he says nothing. he can’t. because he promised to help you discover yourself, not to confuse you more.

even if every part of him wants to be the only one who gets to touch you like that again.

friday came faster than expected, slipping through the cracks of your week like it had been waiting for you. unlike the other days, this one was bitterly cold—the kind of cold that crept into your sleeves and curled around your spine. haechan had texted you earlier, his usual playful tone dulled by exhaustion. "today i actually have to close, so i’ll be stuck at work late," he wrote, followed by a yawning emoji and a tired little heart. you stared at the message longer than you should’ve, feeling something heavy settle in your chest.

the cold winter air bites at your legs as you step out of the cab, your breath fogging in front of you in soft clouds. the house isn’t just any house—it’s one of the old fraternity houses on the edge of campus, the kind that looks more like a mansion than a place college boys live in. warm light glows from the tall windows, and the low hum of music leaks out from behind the heavy wooden door before it swings open.

jaehyun is already waiting, leaning casually against the doorframe. he looks unfairly good—his hair slightly tousled, a dark turtleneck hugging his figure under a sleek wool coat. he gives you that smile, the one that always makes your stomach twist in ways you’ve never really understood.

“you made it,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

you settled on a black leather jacket, cropped just above the waist, its silver zippers catching the light every time you moved. underneath, you wore a satin navy blouse, soft and loose, with a deep neckline that hinted without revealing too much. your high-waisted dark jeans hugged your figure just right, paired with heeled ankle boots that clicked confidently against the pavement. a silk scarf, deep burgundy, wrapped around your neck—not just for warmth, but as a finishing touch. your hair was pulled back loosely, tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was soft but sharp—dark liner, flushed cheeks, and a deep berry gloss that caught the chill in the air.

you notice jaehyun’s gaze drop, lingering for a beat too long before he leads you inside.

the party isn’t crowded—maybe twenty people, maybe less. it’s quiet in that expensive kind of way: muted music, low lighting, golden liquor sloshing in crystal glasses. there’s laughter and whispers, but nothing too wild. you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow it feels more intimate than you’d prepared for.

after your second drink, the room gets a little warmer. the vodka-orange is stronger than you thought, but it burns in a good way. you’re not drunk, not like that night, but the edges of your thoughts are softer, looser.

the music is barely audible now, just a low pulse behind your ribs as jaehyun leans in. it happens the way you always imagined it would—with the warmth of alcohol in your veins, the subtle tension in the air, his breath fanning softly against your cheek as his lips finally meet yours.

at first, it’s cinematic.

his hand is at your waist, careful but firm. his lips, smooth and slow, move against yours like he’s done this a thousand times. his cologne is rich—something expensive and clean, like bergamot and wood.

“you look incredible tonight,” he murmurs, voice low. It’s not the first time he’s flirted with you, but tonight it feels more focused.

you laugh lightly, sipping again. “you say that to every girl you invite to one of these,” you tease.

he smirks. “i don’t. just the ones i hope will stay after everyone else leaves.”

that catches you off guard. there’s a pause, the kind that’s heavy with implication. you don’t answer right away. instead, you tilt your head, watching him through the haze of dim lights and liquor.

more intentional. you close your eyes, willing your heart to speed up, your stomach to twist, your knees to weaken.

but none of it happens.

instead, there’s a slow, creeping emptiness that settles over your skin. you taste the sharp tang of beer on his tongue—bitter and stale—and it dulls the moment like a film of dust on something once shiny. it’s not that he’s doing anything wrong. in fact, he’s doing everything right. and maybe that’s the problem. it’s all too perfect. too rehearsed. too... lifeless.

you keep your lips against his a second longer, maybe two, hoping that if you just try, the magic will follow.

but it doesn’t.

what started as something dreamlike begins to dissolve, unraveling into something flat. weightless. forgettable. like kissing a statue—beautiful, yes, but cold. you feel your body slowly disconnect, like your mind is pulling away, shrinking back into itself. you’re kissing jaehyun. jaehyun. tall, broad-shouldered, silver-tongued. the guy every girl fantasizes about.

and yet... nothing.

when you pull away, you do it gently, trying not to show the disappointment pressing against your chest like a bruise. he looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes, but you can’t meet them for long. something in you already knows: this isn’t what you wanted. maybe it never was.

and then, like clockwork, your thoughts betray you.

because in the silence that follows, in that stretch of breathless stillness, a name rises uninvited in your mind.

haechan.

you blink, shaken by the immediacy of it. why him, of all people? but it doesn’t stop. your mind floods with him, with everything he is and isn’t. jaehyun is all sharp lines and polished edges. he’s winter: sleek and cold, dressed in cashmere and shadows. and haechan...

haechan is sun-warmed skin and mischievous smiles. he’s a burst of color in a black-and-white room. his skin is golden, kissed by sun even in december. you remember the first time he wore glasses in class—how suddenly he looked different. not in a new way, but like you were finally seeing something that had been there all along. it had startled you. he looked good. really good. and you’d stared a little longer than you meant to.

you think about how he always cradles that old gaming console on his lap during breaks, fingers dancing over buttons like it's second nature. how he talks about characters and plots with the same intensity people reserve for politics or love. how he orders black coffee like it's a religion, never anything sweet. how he complains about the cold like it's a personal offense—bundling up in layers and still shivering, nose pink, eyes watery, grumbling but cute.

and you remember something else.

the way his eyes light up when he talks about music. not just any music—he’s always been drawn to layered melodies, harmonies that build slowly, that sneak up on you. you’d caught him once, eyes closed, headphones in, mouthing the words to a song you didn’t recognize. something soft and slow. when you asked what it was, he smiled, kind of shy, and said, “it’s this track i found—it builds so gently, but when it hits, it hits. it makes you feel everything, you know?”

you didn’t then. but now, maybe you do.

because that’s what haechan is like. he builds slowly. gently. he makes you feel everything without trying. without asking. just by being.

you think back to his kiss—that moment in the quiet of his room, when the world felt too small and too loud all at once. his lips weren’t smooth or calculated. they were warm. real. tasting faintly of coffee and breath mints, of nervousness and care. his hands weren’t firm—they trembled just a little. like he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to be. and that kiss? it burned. it lingered. it left something behind in your chest, something heavy and aching.

jaehyun’s kiss, in comparison, feels like water evaporating before it ever touches your skin.

“i need some air,” you say, barely loud enough to hear over the music.

you step away from the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly—not from cold, but from clarity. it’s unsettling, how fast something can shift. how a fantasy can collapse in on itself the moment reality arrives.

you walk toward the front door, ignoring jaehyun’s curious glance. and as the winter air hits your cheeks again, sharp and sobering, you realize the only thing you want right now is warmth.

and the only person who’s ever made you feel it... is haechan.

you step outside, the cold air biting at your cheeks like reality trying to sober you up. it’s quiet out here, except for the faint music pulsing through the windows behind you and the distant sound of traffic. your lips still taste faintly of beer and disappointment, and you try not to let it show on your face—even if there’s no one around to see.

you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly. not just from the cold, but from the feeling growing in your chest. a hollow ache that started the moment jaehyun pulled away and left you with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of something that should’ve felt magical. it was supposed to mean something. you’d wanted it to. for weeks—months even—you thought that maybe this was what you needed. something new. something exciting.

but standing there in the dark, with the wind tugging gently at your coat, all you can think about is how wrong it felt.

how empty.

you sigh and glance down at your phone. 11:45 p.m. haechan probably just got home not long ago—he said he’d be working late tonight, and you remember the slight frown he gave you when you mentioned the party. not because he disapproved. but because he wouldn’t be there.

you hesitate, thumb hovering over his contact. calling him now would make you look ridiculous, wouldn’t it? but god… you need someone. someone who knows you, who doesn’t expect you to be dazzling or mysterious or anything other than exactly who you are.

before you can overthink it again, your thumb presses “call.”

the line barely rings twice before his voice comes through, groggy but alert, like he hadn’t really been asleep yet.

"y/n?" his voice is a little breathless, alarmed. "are you okay?"

you don’t answer right away. the sound of his voice cracks something open inside you. your throat tightens, and your eyes sting, a rush of heat behind your lashes. the words won’t come, caught somewhere between your tongue and your heart.

"hey, talk to me. what happened?"

his concern hits you like a wave. not because of what he’s saying, but how he’s saying it. gently. urgently. like nothing else in the world matters except you right now. like your silence is enough to make his chest hurt.

you swallow thickly, finally managing to breathe, “i… i didn’t know who else to call.”

he exhales slowly, like he’s relieved to hear your voice, even if it’s shaky. “i’m glad you called me.”

and it’s so stupid—so fucking stupid—but that’s when the tears come. silently at first, then all at once. and still, haechan says nothing. just waits, gives you space to fall apart without asking for an explanation.

he always does that. always shows up, always makes you feel like you’re not too much, even when you’re too much for yourself.

and suddenly you realize something—not like a lightning bolt, but like a quiet click, something that was always there, waiting to be noticed. it was never about jaehyun. not really. it was the idea of him. and now, with that illusion shattered, you’re left with the one person who’s been real all along.

the one who always answers the phone. the one who remembers how you take your coffee. the one who listens when you talk about your art for hours and never pretends to be bored.

“can you…” your voice is small, choked, “can you come get me?”

“already on my way,” he says without hesitation.

and just like that, you feel less alone. maybe not okay, not yet—but safe.

safe in the way only he ever made you feel.

you step back into the warmth of the house, wiping your cheeks and pretending the cold air is the only reason your eyes are red. inside, the party hasn’t changed at all—music still pulsing, people still dancing, someone already passed out on a couch. it feels like you left the chaos and walked right back into it, except now it doesn't swallow you whole. now, you’re just… drifting.

you spot jaehyun near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, lazily scrolling through his phone. he doesn’t look up at first, but when he does, his eyes land on you immediately. he straightens, sliding the phone into his back pocket before making his way toward you.

your stomach knots—not because you're afraid, but because you’re not sure what you're supposed to say to the guy you just kissed and then immediately ran away from.

before he even opens his mouth, you raise a hand slightly, your words tumbling out faster than you can stop them.

“i—i’m sorry. i just… i think i was really into the idea of you. like, really into it. but tonight i realized maybe… i don’t know…”

you trail off, eyes dropping to the floor, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on your boots.

jaehyun quirks a brow, and for a second, it’s awkwardly silent—but then he lets out a soft laugh. it’s not cruel, not mocking. just… amused.

“you know,” he says, arms crossing over his chest, “when we first started talking, i thought you and that guy donghyuck?—were together. like, definitely together.”

you blink, lifting your head. “what?”

“yeah,” he shrugs. “you’d always come to class with him. always laughing, always close. and the way he looked at you? i figured i didn’t stand a chance. but then i saw you alone for a few days, and thought maybe you broke up or something, so…” he gestures vaguely. “i shot my shot.”

you feel your cheeks heat up instantly. “we’re not… he’s not my boyfriend. we never dated.”

jaehyun smirks like he doesn’t believe you, but also like he knows better than to argue. “sure. maybe not technically. but come on.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “you really think there’s nothing going on there?”

you start to protest, but then stop. because he’s not wrong, and you’re too tired to lie—to him or to yourself.

“it’s complicated,” you mutter.

he smiles again, this time softer, more genuine. “well, if it helps… i’m not offended. not at all. i mean, you’re sweet, and you kiss okay—”

“okay?” you gasp, half-laughing, half-horrified.

“hey,” he chuckles, holding up his hands, “it was a mutual ‘meh,’ right?”

you both burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking like a balloon popped with a pin. for the first time that night, you feel lighter.

“i really thought i liked you,” you admit.

“you probably did,” he shrugs. “or… the idea of me.”

“yeah.”

jaehyun gives you a wink. “for what it’s worth, i think you and haechan are cute as hell. even if you don’t know it yet.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. a real, unforced smile.

“thanks,” you say quietly.

“anytime,” he replies, already turning toward the kitchen again. “just… don’t let that one go, alright?”

and as you watch him disappear into the crowd, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

on my way. almost there.

you press your lips together, the ghost of a smile still there.

maybe you didn’t come to this party to kiss jaehyun after all. maybe you came to realize who you should’ve been calling all along.

the cold bites harder now. you’re standing outside again, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, your phone clutched tight in your hand. every passing second feels like it’s stretching eternity, but then—you spot him. haechan walks up the sidewalk.

haechan was wearing sweatpants, mismatched socks stuffed into crocs, and a hoodie that’s too big even for him. his hair is a mess, fluffed and wild like he just rolled out of bed—and he probably did. you freeze, heart caught in your throat, as he blinks at you sleepily, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm.

you stare at him—at the boy who still showed up, in the dead of night, after a long shift, just because you needed him. and something inside you swells so big, so full, it spills over before you can contain it.

you don’t think—you run.

you crash into him with a force that makes him stumble half a step back, arms instantly wrapping around you, warm and steady. he doesn’t say anything. he just holds you, one hand coming up to stroke your hair gently, his breath warm against your temple.

you press your face into his neck, breathing him in—coffee, fabric softener, something so haechan. your chest heaves, and your eyes sting again.

when he pulls you into his embrace, it feels like the weight of the world finally lifts from your chest. his touch is soft, his fingers brushing against your skin in the most familiar way, like he’s always been there, always meant to be there.

he sighs softly, tugging you closer like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “seriously… what’s wrong with you lately?” he murmurs, voice groggy, laced with concern. “why are you acting like such a crybaby, huh?”

you lift your head, blinking up at him through the tears that won’t stop pooling. your eyes meet his—those deep, sleepy eyes that always seem to see too much—and your lips part as if to answer, but no words come.

so instead, you kiss him.

you pull him down by the collar of his hoodie and press your mouth to his with all the confusion, all the ache, all the longing you’ve buried for far too long. his lips are warm, soft, and as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he kisses you back.

and then, when you press your lips to his, it’s like every other kiss you’ve had fades away into nothingness. the world around you dissolves, and all that remains is the sensation of him. it’s pure, it’s grounding—everything that jaehyun’s kiss wasn’t.

he doesn’t ask questions. he doesn’t stop you. he just holds you tighter, like he’s afraid this moment might shatter.

his hand cradles your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing under your eye, and the kiss deepens—not rushed, not clumsy, just real. like he’s trying to tell you all the things neither of you ever dared to say.

your fingers curl into his hoodie as you pour everything into the kiss—your gratitude, your fear, your guilt, your truth.

it feels like you're being purified, as if every trace of doubt, of confusion, of disappointment, is being washed away by the intensity of haechan’s presence. there’s no bitterness, no strange aftertaste—only him, only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you lose yourself in him. with each second, you realize just how much you’ve longed for this, how much you’ve needed him, even when you didn’t know it. this, this is what real intimacy feels like, and it’s everything you never knew you were missing.

the walk to haechan’s apartment felt different. the night air was biting, and the cold seemed to press against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat that was bubbling in your chest. you didn’t want to be here, not tonight, not after everything that had just happened. but here you were, once again, losing yourself in the warmth of his presence.

“lost your keys again?” haechan asked, his voice playful but with a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped aside to let you into his apartment. you gave him a sheepish smile, pretending to fumble with your bag and looking down, avoiding his gaze.

“yeah, I’m such a mess,” you murmured, but your words felt hollow, like they were slipping through your fingers as quickly as the night’s events.

he didn’t say anything more, but the slight furrow of his brow told you he was paying attention. it was a game, a little lie that you used to keep yourself near him just a little longer, but tonight, it felt like more. it felt like you were hiding something from him.

inside his apartment, the quiet enveloped you like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt like everything was still. you sat on the couch next to him, the tension between you thickening by the second. it was always easy to talk to him, but tonight, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. and you knew why—because the taste of jaehyun’s kiss was still fresh on your lips, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“what happened?” haechan’s voice cut through the silence, and you could see it in his eyes: that flicker of concern. he knew something was wrong, and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for the truth.

you let out a breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “jaehyun... I kissed him.”

he stiffened beside you, his body tensing. you didn’t have to look at him to know the change in his expression. it was there in the way his muscles locked up, in the way he barely moved, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the words.

"what? you kissed him?" he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "good for you, I guess..."

the final sentence hit you like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t stop now. it was too late to take it back, and the confession felt like it was clawing its way out.

"it wasn’t what I expected," you whispered, avoiding his gaze as your stomach twisted. "it was... bad. it didn’t feel right. at all."

haechan’s hand clenched into a fist, his face hardening, but there was something more in his eyes now—something you hadn’t expected. jealousy. confusion. it was almost as if he wanted to say something but was holding it back. you felt the heat rise in your chest, your own guilt gnawing at you.

"wait—what?" haechan leaned forward, his voice suddenly sharp, though his face was tight with barely-contained emotion. "it was... bad? after all that?"

you nodded slowly, your throat tight as you continued, “yeah. it wasn’t what I thought it would be. there was no passion, no spark. the taste of beer... it was all I could focus on, and I hated it. I... I just couldn’t feel anything.”

the silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. he wasn’t angry—at least, not completely—but he was something else. hurt, maybe? or disappointment? you couldn’t tell.

"so, that’s it then?" his voice was quieter now, the sharpness fading into something softer, more contemplative. “your feelings for him are... gone?”

"yeah," you admitted, finally meeting his gaze, feeling the truth weigh on your shoulders. "they’re gone. I don’t want him anymore. I don’t even want to kiss him again."

the words hung in the air, and you waited for him to respond, your heart racing, unsure of what he would say. when he finally spoke, it wasn’t what you expected.

“you know,” he started, his voice light, almost teasing, “i never liked the idea of you with him. not even for a second.”

you blinked, surprised at his admission. “you didn’t?”

“no,” he said, the edge of his smile almost teasing, though there was something else behind it. “I always thought you deserved someone who wasn’t... like him.”

you frowned, still processing what he was saying, but before you could respond, he continued.

“but now i get it. i see why you would be disappointed. he’s not... him,” haechan said, his voice lowering, the underlying sadness creeping in. "i guess i’m just glad you’re realizing it now. even if it took you kissing him to see it."

a chill ran down your spine as you looked at him, unsure of what he meant. your heart tightened with a strange mix of relief and something else—something more complicated that you couldn’t name yet.

“you’re not... mad?” you asked quietly.

“mad?” he repeated, laughing softly, though there was no real humor in it. “no. why would I be mad? I’m just... relieved. you deserve better.”

“so... what now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

haechan didn’t answer immediately. his eyes lingered on you—soaked in the way your makeup had smudged slightly, how your lips were still a little swollen from that kiss with jaehyun, how your dress had ridden up your thighs from the car ride. he swallowed hard, jaw clenched like he was fighting the urge to say something reckless.

then he said it anyway.

“now i take care of you.”

your breath hitched.

he stepped closer. slowly. deliberately. the kind of approach that made your knees weak. the kind of approach that said he knew exactly what you needed before you did. his hand reached for your waist, pulling you gently toward him, until your bodies were flush against each other.

“unless you don’t want that,” he murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “you tell me to stop, and i will. no questions, no pressure.”

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. Instead, you tilted your head and captured his lips in a kiss—needy, messy, full of everything you hadn’t said for weeks.

he groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, grounding you. but he didn’t rush. he kissed you like he had time. like he was savoring the moment he’d waited for far too long.

“haechan…” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

he looked at you, eyes burning.

“yeah, baby?”

your cheeks flushed. “i… want to go further. i trust you.”

he blinked, just once, and something softened in his expression.

“are you sure?” he asked, voice lower now, rougher, but laced with concern. “i need to hear you say it.”

you nodded, fingers brushing his jaw. “i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, like a promise. then he scooped you up effortlessly in his arms, carrying you to his bed, the same way he always carried you emotionally—careful, steady, never letting you fall.

he laid you down like you were precious, and then crawled over you, caging you in with his body, forehead pressed to yours.

“tell me if anything feels too much,” he whispered.

you nodded. he reached over to the nightstand, rummaging for a condom, giving you a look that made your stomach flip.

“Prepared?” you teased softly.

he smirked. “baby, i’ve been in love with you since you spilled coffee on my camera. i’ve always been prepared.”

your laugh faded into a gasp as his hands slipped beneath your dress, touching you with reverence, praise pouring from his mouth like it was second nature.

“so fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your neck. “every part of you. mine to take care of. mine to love.”

his fingers teased you through your panties until you were arching, needy and aching, the room filled with the soft, wet sounds of your arousal.

“you’re already this wet for me? fuck—baby, you're killing me.”

you squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensation, but craving more. then you heard the foil tear, and your heart pounded louder.

the moment he entered you was slow, intense, a stretch that bordered on pain and pleasure, but he was right there—kissing your forehead, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how proud he was of you.

“you’re doing so good,” he groaned. “so fucking tight. you were made for me, weren’t you?”

you nodded desperately, clinging to him.

he moved slow, deep, rolling his hips so you felt every inch of him. his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

one condom turned into two. then three. you couldn’t stop. neither could he.

sweat clung to your skin, tangled sheets beneath you. he had you on top of him at one point, his hands on your hips as you moved, his eyes never leaving your face.

“that’s it, baby. take what you need. fuck—ride me just like that.”

another position had him behind you, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping between your legs to make you scream his name as your body fell apart.

by the time the fourth wrapper crumpled beside the bed, you were both panting, dazed and desperate.

you rolled onto your back, breathless. “we’re out.”

you reached for your phone, already sitting up. “I can run down to the 7-eleven—”

he stopped you instantly, pressing a hand to your stomach.

“no, baby,” he said, voice firm. “i’ll go. you stay here. let me take care of it.”

the way he said it—so naturally, so possessively—sent a wave of heat straight through you. you bit your lip, something wicked curling inside you.

“or…” you said, voice dripping with mischief. “we could just… try without one.”

he froze. eyes dark. jaw tight.

“don’t tempt me,” he growled.

you crawled into his lap, pressing your lips to his neck.

“what if i want to?” you whispered. “what if i want all of you?”

he exhaled sharply, head falling back. “fuck… you’re dangerous.”

still, he hesitated—until you ground down on him and whispered, “i trust you, haechan.”

that was all it took.

he didn’t say a word for a moment. just stared at you like you’d set him on fire.

then he kissed you—hard. not rushed, but full of hunger, like you’d just pulled the leash off something he’d been holding back for far too long.

you could feel him against you, throbbing and hot, even without anything between you now. your body tingled in anticipation, in fear, in want. you were bare in every way—and he saw you, accepted you, craved you.

he guided you down onto the bed again, positioning himself between your thighs, his hands cupping your face gently.

“if i do this…” he said, voice low and trembling with restraint, “you need to tell me if anything feels wrong. anything at all, baby.”

“it won’t,” you whispered. “i want you. just like this.”

he lined himself up, one hand steadying your hip, the other brushing hair from your face. when he pushed in—slow, careful, deep—your whole body tensed, wrapped around him like he was the first breath after drowning.

it hurt. just a little. enough to make your lips part with a gasp. but he stopped instantly, not moving, just whispering against your cheek.

“breathe for me, sweetheart. you’re doing so fucking good.”

you nodded, clinging to his shoulders, letting yourself relax little by little until your body opened for him.

he began to move—not fast, but deep and fluid, his voice rasping against your ear with every thrust.

“you feel unreal,” he groaned. “so tight. so fucking warm. shit—you're making me lose my mind.”

your nails dug into his back. you couldn’t think. could barely breathe. all you knew was him—his scent, his voice, his body fitting against yours like you were made for this moment.

“does it feel good, baby?” he asked, barely holding it together.

“yes,” you moaned. “it feels so good, haechan.”

he reached between you, his fingers finding that perfect spot again, circling gently as his hips rolled deeper.

“i want you to cum for me,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to the mirror across the room.

and that’s when you saw it too—the reflection.

the sight of yourself, spread out beneath him, his body covering yours, the way his hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, the way your mouth fell open in pleasure.

you locked eyes with him through the mirror.

“look at you,” he said. “so fucking pretty. you should see what i see. you should see what you do to me.”

you whimpered, already close. the feeling of him inside you, the way he praised you, the reflection showing you everything you felt but couldn’t describe—it pushed you right to the edge.

“you’re mine,” he growled, thrusting deeper. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, back arching.

“again.”

“i’m yours, haechan—fuck—i’m—”

the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. your whole body trembled as you clung to him, moaning his name like a confession.

he followed with a deep, broken moan, hips grinding into you as he came, his entire body tensing above yours, the sound of your names and curses filling the air as he spilled inside you, raw and unfiltered.

afterward, he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your forehead with trembling lips.

“i’ve never felt anything like that,” he whispered.

you couldn’t answer. your body was still shaking, your mind a mess of stars and heat.

he held you close, running his fingers up and down your spine.

and for a long time, neither of you spoke.

because nothing needed to be said.

haechan stood by the door, shirtless, hair messy, pulling on his sweatpants with a crooked grin on his face.

“be right back,” he said, grabbing his keys. “we are out of condoms.”

your heart jumped at how casually he said it. like he already knew you weren’t done. like he couldn’t wait to get his hands back on you.

“don’t be long,” you said, your voice a little hoarse, a little needy.

“i’ll run,” he smirked, and you believed him.

the moment the door closed behind him, your body buzzed with anticipation. you felt sore, satisfied… and yet completely empty without him there.

a little while later, you were curled up on his couch wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, sipping water with your thighs still trembling from everything he just made you feel.

your mind ran wild imagining all the things he’d do when he got back.

and oh—he did.

he came back ten minutes later, breathless and grinning, holding a bag with the corner of a box peeking out.

“miss me?” he teased.

“shut up,” you mumbled, biting your lip as he approached you on the couch.

but he didn’t give you time to banter. his mouth was on yours again, hungry and hot, hands already sliding under the hoodie like he’d been starving the whole way back.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled into your ear, lips dragging down your neck. “every fucking step i ran, i was thinking about how wet you were. how tight. how you said my name when you came.”

you whimpered, legs parting automatically as he knelt between them on the couch.

but this time—he was different. rougher. more commanding. his eyes darker.

“get up,” he whispered, pulling you to your feet.

“where are we—?”

“shower,” he said. “now.”

you didn’t argue.

the water hit your skin like a shock, but his body was hotter. he pressed you up against the cool tile wall, mouth devouring yours as his hands slid down to your ass, lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around him.

“you’re mine tonight,” he growled against your lips. “no stopping now. you started this—now i’m gonna finish it. again and again.”

your back hit the wall as he slid into you, wet and desperate. the sounds of skin against skin, water splashing, your moans echoing in the steam—filthy and perfect.

you lost count of how many times he made you come.

after the shower, he didn’t even let you dry off.

he carried you—carried—naked and dripping, to the living room, laying you over the back of the couch. your knees barely held as he bent you forward, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your legs.

“still so wet?” he teased, running his fingers through your folds. “what did i do to you, baby?”

“you ruined me,” you gasped, pushing back against his hand.

“good,” he hissed. “you’re gonna take me again. right here.”

and you did.

he fucked you from behind on the couch, your moans muffled in the cushion, your fingers clawing at the leather. he didn’t let up—he used you, praised you, told you how fucking hot you looked taking him like that.

then the kitchen.

you barely made it there.

he bent you over the counter, spreading your legs with a low groan.

“you trust me?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“yes,” you breathed.

“good,” he said, sliding in again, slow and deep. “because i'm not holding back anymore.”

he fucked you while gripping your hips, your body slamming gently into the counter with each thrust, your breath fogging the cold surface.

“so fucking perfect,” he groaned. “you were made for me.”

then came the dining table.

you ended up on it—legs open, arms thrown over your head, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra. he kissed every inch of your body, left love bites on your thighs, praised every moan and whimper you gave him.

you didn’t even remember how many condoms you went through until—

“fuck,” he muttered, breathless, sweaty. “last one’s gone.”

the apartment was thick with heat and the smell of sex. your bodies glistened with sweat, tangled over the polished wood of the dining table. haechan’s chest was pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tightly around you as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

it wasn’t until the digital clock on the microwave blinked 4:02 AM that either of you realized how much time had passed.

“shit,” you whispered with a soft laugh, still breathless.

“yeah…” haechan’s voice was husky, worn out, but content. he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “we’ve been at this for hours. you okay?”

you nodded, eyes half-lidded, still processing everything. your body felt sore, used in the best possible way, and your heart was floating somewhere between exhaustion and complete peace.

he helped you off the table, careful and gentle now, holding you by the waist as you stumbled a little, your legs wobbly. you both laughed quietly at that, and he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“come on,” he murmured. “let’s clean up and go to bed before the sun comes up.”

the warmth of his bed was a balm against your tender skin. after a quick rinse in the bathroom and slipping into one of his worn shirts, you curled up against him under the covers. his fingers traced light circles on your back as you lay there, your leg thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around you like you were something fragile and precious.

“you okay?” he asked again, softer this time. there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice—like he was afraid this had been too much.

you nodded into his chest.

“i’m more than okay,” you whispered. “i feel… safe. and really, really good.”

he exhaled a little laugh of relief and kissed the top of your head. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful. comforting. like your bodies had said everything your mouths didn’t need to.

soon enough, your breaths synced. his hand stayed on your waist as you both drifted off to sleep.

the next morning came slowly.

soft rays of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, painting lazy golden streaks across the sheets. you blinked awake first, still pressed against his warm body. his hand was splayed over your stomach, holding you close, and his legs were tangled with yours beneath the covers.

you didn’t want to move.

there was a quiet hum in your chest, that afterglow still lingering like a dream. you turned slightly to look at him—his hair was messy, lips parted, eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. peaceful. beautiful.

you shifted a little, and he stirred, eyes barely opening.

“mmm,” he murmured. “you’re still here.”

“where else would i be?” you whispered.

he smiled, still half-asleep, and pulled you closer.

“good,” he said, voice low and raspy. “i want you right here. just like this.”

you melted into him, your heart full, your body still tingling in places, and thought maybe—just maybe—waking up like this with haechan could become your favorite part of any day.

haechan made breakfast in nothing but his boxers, hair still messy from sleep, humming some old song as you sat on the counter, wearing only his oversized t-shirt and the glow he’d left on your skin.

there was laughter. soft jokes. syrup on your lips that he licked off with a grin.

and when you finally curled back into the couch, your head on his shoulder, legs tangled under a shared blanket, it didn’t feel strange.

it didn’t feel like you’d crossed a line.

it felt like you’d stepped into something deeper.

he looked at you then, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, and whispered:

“you know… i think we’re still us.”

you smiled, heart fluttering.

because he was right.

maybe in the end, sex doesn’t ruin the friendship— it transforms it.

[twilightau]

LOVE VIRUS 2; L.DH

synopsis — you finally left the ER department, but why do you keep popping up in Haechan’s life and mind?

genres — first love au, co-workers-to-lovers, doctor au

pairing — general surgeon!lee donghyuck x nurse!fem!reader

warnings — language, mentions of death, incorrect medical descriptions, fire accident, lots of HC going back and forth with his thoughts, medical setting, lot of pov changes

word count — 7,6k (part one) 5,6k (part two)

author’s note — this fic is based off the j-drama ‘an incurable case of love’! but besides some events and the premise, they aren’t similar. i also added doses of other k-medical drama moments in the work, mostly because i am far from medically educated so i apologize to any of you who are reading this.

a/n part 2: this part switches focus between haechan and y/n a lot. whenever it’s haechan-focused, he will be referred to as haechan (in y/n-focus he is referred to as donghyuck).

  HAECHAN: all the voices say the same thing.

There was no turning back. As much as people like to think that he is socially stumped, Haechan wasn’t. Being socially aware, but not acting upon it is a choice, and it was always the most time-efficient choice in his opinion. The opinions of others don’t matter, everyone knew he had the skills to match his attitude, so why bother being likable when a doctor’s job is to save people?

His nth consultation ended with another pair of wary eyes looking at him. He told them exactly what the surgery was and what their chances of survival were, yet the patient only turned away once the rookie nurse added some sugar-coated words to his story.

It’s so stupid how people let themselves fall into meaningless words of hope. They’d be ready to fight Haechan over well-formulated diagnoses with realistic predictions, but once you pitch in with some sentimental words about healing, they are always easily satisfied. You throw in one of your sweet and kind smiles and the patient is sold. 

It frustrated him how much of those smiles he has been seeing lately. Somehow, after he revealed that he remembered you, it was him who became hyper-aware of you. He can’t even properly criticize your work anymore because it did actually improve, and you knew it because you have been flashing proud little smiles at him whenever he didn’t tell you off on something he did before.

Haechan was sure that the thoughts of you would quiet down after you finished your ER rotation and continued on to other departments. But it really didn’t help that you ended up at cardiology and Mark was somehow so fond of you that he always mentions you whenever the surgeon went out for a drink with the cardiologist. 

(“Nurse Y/N baked some cookies for the team today, they were crazy.” Mark told his friend while stuffing his face with another piece of chicken. Haechan sipped his beer, trying to focus on anything but the image of you smiling brightly with a tray of cookies.

“She even made a special version, which Jeno approved to give to his patients.” The surgeon hummed with indifference – at least he tried to. “Yo, are you even listening?” Haechan’s eyes flick to Mark with annoyance.

“Well, sorry that I don’t want to hear about Y/N and Jeno being some sort of charity towards their patients. I’m not exactly invested.” Mark gaped at his friend, who grabbed his glass to take a huge sip. “No way, you are into her, dude.” And the surgeon spat his drink all over Mark with zero guilt.)

Even worse, you keep showing up in his barely-there free time as well, present in his house, talking to his cousin like you’ve known her for years when it has been literal months. The two of you are always watching some cheesy rom-com whenever Haechan looks over at the living room from the open kitchen, which he only entered for some water by the way.

Tonight was one of those nights where you came over while your roommate was out with her friends. Karina brought home some fried chicken and the two of you were enjoying your meal with an episode of Perfect Match a background noise.

“Girl, I can’t believe it's only been three months since you started here. You already received a request to start in the cardiology department which is very impressive.” This news was unknown to Donghyuck, he sits up a little straighter, his laptop and work long forgotten on the kitchen island. 

You shake your head profusely, “I only got the offer because the team thinks I do well with the patients. Besides, the majority of the team already knew me before I started.” 

It was true, the cardiology department was where your roommate Minjeong was stationed. It would be no surprise if she recommended you, as well as Mark, although he would have done it for different reasons.

“So what?” Karina stretches out the ‘a’ for dramatic effect, “Wasn’t it Jeno that turned in that request?” She continues to press the topic further, and Haechan knows his cousin. She was trying to get on his nerves. He directed his gaze to the living room to confirm that Karina was indeed eyeing him. The conversation the cousins had once resurfaced.

(“I think you should try dating again, Haechan.” His cousin casually dropped while they were having dinner. Haechan scoffs, pointing his fork at his cousin accusatory. “Just say you want me together with your little friend and be done with it. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Okay, fine, let me be honest. Y/N is a great girl, and if you don’t act on it fast, she will be taken in no time.” Although Haechan saw you in a professional light most of the time, he was still a man who could objectively confirm that you were attractive. But you were so different from him that he couldn’t imagine himself with you.

“I doubt she is that popular, Karina. You are overreacting.” He tries to play it nonchalantly, if she notices, she doesn’t mention it. The two ate their dinner with small bickerings on random topics, but the thought that there was someone in the cardiology department didn’t sit right with Haechan.) 

At least he didn’t need to ask Mark about it anymore now that his cousin had revealed the name of the guy. Haechan absolutely refuses to ask his best friend even remotely about any female, knowing he won’t live it down if it comes to Mark Lee. It was however quite surprising that Jeno requested you to join the cardiology department, after all, Jeno wasn’t much of a social butterfly compared to his co-worker Mark. But his sweet smile and mellow nature made him popular amongst the female staff of any department.

It wasn’t jealousy – he knows for sure (no he doesn’t)– but wonder? A small piece of him was kind of proud that you managed to establish a steady image of yourself that became well-liked by the cardiology department. He wasn’t jealous, really. Part of the rotations is to see which team would fit best for each rookie nurse. Haechan also knew that there were very few nurses who ended up applying for the emergency department, feeling an overwhelming responsibility to work hard and fast under very unappealing circumstances.

Haechan is about to open his mouth to throw a teasing comment your way, itching to see how you’d react, but his phone goes off. An emergency alert.

He looks up to see the same expression on Karina’s face, the two cousins stand up in unison and rush to get their stuff. The surgeon notices you walking toward him as he packs his laptop into his bag.

“What happened?”

“Emergency alarm, all available staff are asked to come and help out.” He doesn’t look up, rushing into his room to grab his remaining necessities before exiting and walking toward the door. You stand there with Karina, the head nurse looking at Haechan, her eyes asking for help.

“Y/N wants to come, too.” Haechan frowns, frankly speaking, he didn’t have time for this as he should be rushing to the hospital, but he somehow still finds time to argue with you on this.

“When I said all available staff, I meant the ER and related staff. General surgery is always called in for these things. The cardiology staff on shift will cover what they need just fine.” He waves you off, putting his shoes on and opening the door, already rushing down the hallway to the elevators. But if Lee Donghyuck had spent just as much time with you as Yu Karina had, he’d have known how persistent you actually are, strutting into the elevator with Karina.

You don’t even spare the man a look, a smug smile on your face while you wait for the elevator to reach the ground level. Haechan hides his forming smile behind a scoff. “Did I lose your respect after you rotate in other departments, Nurse Y/N?” You turn around to face Haechan with a smile, and the man forgets to keep his composure for a second, but snaps back before you – or his cousin – can notice.

“In case you didn’t know, I am free to apply for any department now that I’ve completed the obligatory rotations. Besides, there are people out there who need help right now Dr. Lee. I don’t think refusing to help hands is the efficient choice right now.” Haechan rolls his eyes, not missing the detail of your word choice.

♡

The accident site wasn’t far from your apartment complex, Haechan had to make the quick decision of sending Karina off to the hospital as head nurse and took you with him to the accident site. 

“Hello, this is doctor Lee Donghyuck from general surgery. I’m going on-site to assess the situation. Please send over one medical unit and extra emergency kits.” Haechan pauses for a moment to look at you, “I already have one nurse with me.” He informs the emergency response center before taking a sprint.

This wasn’t his first time on an accident site, he knew the drill but repeated it nonetheless for you. “Make sure to stay close to me. You are here to assist me, and I am here to assess who we can and cannot treat. Nurse Y/N, what you are about to see will be upsetting, but I need you to stay clear-minded, okay?” His voice was more gentle as he spoke the last part, but he knew the moment the two of you set eyes on the site, that your heart must be heavy and racing just like his.

Haechan was shortly informed on the phone that a fire broke out in a neighboring high school; he already knew that there would be a lot of injured students. But knowing never softens the blow. The sounds of crying, coughing, and screaming students momentarily freeze the surgeon, but the moment he looks at you, he knows he has to stay strong to keep both of you afloat. He grabs your hand, telling you to follow him towards a temporary set-up tent where paramedics are already busy dividing tasks.

“I’m doctor Lee Donghyuck from Neo-Seoul Medical Center, this is Nurse Y/N L/N. What can we do to help?” A tall paramedic turns to the two of you, his face looks strained but he manages a polite smile and shakes your hands. “I’m glad help could come this fast. I’m the captain of unit A, paramedic Johnny Suh. We are currently waiting for the clear sign to enter the building and look for survivors. It’s best that you two start with labeling all the students who managed to get out already. You know the codes?”

“Yes,” Haechan answers curtly, it wasn’t unusual that people underestimated him because he looked young, but he didn’t waste much time on the thought and rushed to the first students he could find.

He checks the pulse of a still-laying male student while a female sits next to him on the ground, crying. You assist Haechan with all the tools he needs to check on the non-responding patient while he asks the conscious female a few questions.

“Give her a green label and him an orange label,” Haechan instructs before standing up and looking for the next patient. He hears you tell the girl that orange means the boy will be fine and the girl cries out louder, thanking the two of you.

♡

Y/N: that fire that burns dangerously.

What felt like hours went by while Donghyuck and you checked patient after patient. Yangyang and Sion joined the scene to help lift part of the burden as on-site medical staff. You tried your best to keep up with Donghyuck while trying to keep your head cool. There were so many students, and young lives that will hold this disaster as a tainted memory for a long time.

You knew you’d been here way too long, the fire wasn’t completely out yet and the paramedics did warn you to take precautions. The mask on your face started to feel suffocating and it was obvious that both Donghyuck and you needed a break before you exhausted yourself in these extreme conditions. Your hand reached out to call him, but you froze at a familiar cry near the two of you.

“Somebody, please…” A weak female voice calls out between coughs, you whip your head around and run without warning Donghyuck. Her voice was something you wouldn’t forget. You have laughed with that voice, cried with that voice, and screamed with that voice at one of the scariest moments in your life: it was Minnie’s voice.

“Minnie.” Her name leaves your lips with a gasp, she is dirtied with soot and trembling. You rush to her side and hug her tight, just relieved that she is alive. You feel her take a deep breath for a moment before she breaks out in coughs again. She pushed you off her with frantic eyes, trying her best to tell you something, but you were too close to the smoke and you didn’t doubt that she had been for a longer time.

“R-riku oppa–.” She forced the words out between coughs before you signaled paramedics to take her away. You jump on your feet, and a slight dizziness clouds your vision momentarily when you look around you. If Minnie has been so certain to not flee any further, it must mean that Riku was within reach. You try your hardest to see through the fire, unknowingly walking closer to the building, too desperate to save another child. The sight breaks your heart like a stone through a glass wall; Riku lies unconscious near the exit, a large object on top of his upper body, making it impossible for him to escape. 

It wasn’t instinct, nor was it reflex. The complete opposite snapped in you, all the care for your own safety flew out the window the moment you saw the teenage boy. Your legs weren’t yours, your strength wasn’t yours, everything was automatic and with no thoughts. The object was heavy, likely a fallen piece of the ceiling, but you managed to lift it just a bit. 

You shut your eyes and focus all your strength on removing the object, not even realizing that a group of paramedics and Donghyuck himself have found you and are helping out. Only after you felt like there was no strength left in you did you open your eyes, the object was off Riku’s body and Captain Suh was performing CPR. Donghyuck looked at you with concerned eyes, but his words didn’t register in your mind as exhaustion seeped into you. The last thing you remember is his arms around your body and the impact of something hard.

♡

HAECHAN: between you and me.

Haechan saves lives. It was one of the most normal things to do for him, hell – he was a professional after all. A general surgeon working in the emergency department, he was used to seeing people in very bad shapes and situations. These weren’t limited to the ER, but also on the accident sites. Haechan has always been the few doctors that were dispatched the most often whenever a disaster broke out. Thanks to his expertise, he knew exactly what and where the injured could go for the best treatments. He was also well aware of the procedure at the sites. Never would he call himself a sucker for rules, but he knew the importance of protocol and why they existed in the first place.

Yet he didn’t hesitate to run after you when you were obviously breaking any and every point of the set rules. Yet he even helped you out with your ridiculous quest to save a student that you were not capable of doing on your own. Yet he risked his life to push you out of the way because you were too caught up in the situation to stay aware of your surroundings.

Doyoung expected a lot of things from Haechan, but to tell him off on something he had done perfectly for so long was a surprise.

“This report doesn’t make sense, Donghyuck. You were supposed to be the best of the batch, but you’re messing up your entire fast track with a rookie mistake?” Doyoung rubs his hand over his face in frustration. Haechan was not a promising resident anymore, he was already at a similar level to some of the senior surgeons. If he had to be honest, Haechan might be better at certain surgeries than Doyoung himself. 

It’s stupid, that’s what it is. Haechan made one mistake and the board jumped on the opportunity to humble the cocky surgeon. Haechan knows it’s unfair, probably anyone with a little more insight on the situation knows that this was a personal attack on him. But even as Chief of General Surgery, his power knew limits. 

“Listen, I can’t get you back on track soon. But the good side is that the kid you saved was a close relative of the paramedic team on the scene. You might have temporarily lost your chance at promotion, but at least you got a paramedic team on your beck and call.”

Haechan didn’t speak much, just listening to Doyoung’s rants and nagging before leaving his office. He opens the door to catch you sitting in the waiting area. He knows he has to leave as soon as possible before you catch him, but his lingering gaze delays his moves and you look right up to his walking figure.

“Dr. Lee!” You shout through the hall, Haechan’s body freezes, allowing you to run up to him and hold his sleeve. A feeling of deja vu rises in Haechan, along with other things he is not ready to identify. “I need to talk to you, please.” The surgeon takes a deep breath and turns to you, a stoic expression hiding his uncertainties.

“Is it true that you lost your spot on the fast track?” Haechan rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny anything, too focused on not looking into your eyes. “Why?” You ask with a crack in your voice. If Haechan was too nervous to look in your eyes before, he is now terrified to catch your gaze. He is afraid of all the things he will say, and all the things he won’t say.

“Nurse Y/N, you should worry about your own conversation with your superior. Leave my business alone. Hell, leave me alone for once” Haechan snaps, misplaced anger in his words as he shrugs your hand off his sleeve and walks away. He didn’t look at your face, but he pictures your pained expression in his head, and he hates it.

Just like that, the two of you didn’t speak for weeks. You ended up choosing cardiology and were currently in Dr. Lee Jeno’s OR team. Maeda Riku was in fact one of the latest patients you assisted in Jeno’s OR, and due to the complicated surgery ending successfully, the entire team was invited to a conference to share the experience.

Haechan was a bit proud – or a lot – of your growth throughout your time at Neo-Seoul Medical Center. You still seemed a bit clumsy, but you were definitely quicker on your feet and managed to soothe the hearts of many cardiology patients. The general surgeon can act like this is all information he heard from Mark who seems to think Haechan needs weekly Y/N-updates (Haechan is kind of curious, he won’t lie), but deep down he already knows that even without Mark, Haechan will always look out for you from a distance.

“I’m telling you, dude. Lee Jeno is going to confess to her in Busan and you will end up single for the rest of your life!” Mark rubs his face in frustration, and his friend slash colleague’s passive behavior is ticking him off. Haechan’s face remains neutral, he grabs another strip of meat and puts it on the grill, he shrugs after seeing the cardiologist unmoving staring at him. “What does that have to do with me?”.

He’s feigning ignorance and he knows it. Haechan is still foolishly lying to himself that he doesn’t know about your… affection for him. You liked him silently, innocently, like anyone would feel about first love. But your little crush wasn’t the problem here, it was his growing love for you. While you just rekindled your previous crush on him, you set Haechan's heart ablaze in the most unsuspecting manner. One day he thought of you as the annoying new rookie in his department, preparing himself for any mistake you could make. But the next, he would be going home in between shifts, ‘resting’ and wondering whether you’d come and visit his cousin. 

Suddenly, your mistakes weren’t annoying anymore and your care for patients softened his expressions. Suddenly, he didn’t mind having to eat your slightly sour food when you decided to cook Karina and his dinner. Suddenly, every extra mile you went for the people around you warmed his heart. And suddenly, that warmed heart became yours.

He doubted it at first, his feelings. Maybe he hadn’t met a fanatic rookie in a while – although Yangyang’s rookie days were also quite eventful. But Haechan knew for sure that you weren’t just a temporary infatuation when he ran into a burning building for you. He knew the consequences, the risks, but he didn’t care.

It felt unfair to you, who was just starting a career and exploring the medical world, to be tied down to a man with a bad reputation with colleagues who might affect your future. 

“You’re telling me you aren’t going to fight for her?” Mark pushes, clearly his friend was hiding something but needed something to switch him on.

“I’m telling you she deserves better.” And Mark Lee was quiet about it, because Haechan was many things, and arrogant was at least in the top three words anyone would use to describe the surgeon. To have his colleague and long-term friend admit that he might not be the best option was out of the world, and so must his love for you be as well.

♡

Haechan sighs, swirling the champagne in his glass as he watches his colleagues and fellow medical professionals socialize. Through Mark’s effort, Haechan managed to get a few days off to join the conference in Busan, and now he is forced to come because Doyoung thought a conference was the perfect way to torture Haechan for his misbehavior.

He was right, it did feel like torture for Haechan. But it was because he was in a room filled with pretentious people, or because the catering was way too healthy and he needed something sweet.

It was torture because you were the most beautiful person in the room, and it was Jeno Lee who stood by your side. You wore a simple maxi dress which could have looked dull on anyone who didn’t glow like you. Your kind smile was given left and right and you laughed at all Jeno’s dry jokes. Haechan hated everything, but he loathed himself the most for not being the man next to you.

He goes outside and looks for his lighter, hoping that a long good smoke will help him escape. The surgeon spots Mark’s approaching figure and sighs again. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You smoke again?”

Haechan tries to flicker the lighter again but fails. “What else am I supposed to do in this situation? Fucking go and tell her? Ever since she entered my life, she has been prying open that shitty door that I didn’t know existed?” Haechan drags a hand through his hair, throwing the lighter away in frustration. “I can’t do that, Mark. Whenever I picture myself next to her, I can only think of myself as a medical mentor. I don’t have anything else to offer. I pale in comparison to her shining nature and it’s making me sick that Lee Jeno is going to walk away with her tonight.”

“But what about your own happiness, though?” His friend asks him. Haechan fakes a dry laugh. His back is still turned towards his friends as the general surgeon stares outside. “I could never put myself before her. I think I’ve known since that high school fire that it will always be her before me.” It sounds so cliche, too sickly sweet for Haechan to say, but if he won’t confess, the least he can do is tell his friend what has been clouding his heart and mind for months.

Haechan was frustrated, anyone could tell by his shaking shoulders. Lee Haechan felt like a loser, but he was too hopeless to do anything about it. A soft hand caresses his back to comfort him and the voice he had missed was finally speaking to him again. “Everyone deserves happiness. And everyone should move on from the past.” Your words were so simple and genuine like they always were. Haechan turns around in shock to find you standing next to Mark – who is wearing a smirk with only slight hints of guilt in his eyes for letting you listen to a highly personal conversation. 

♡

Y/N: don't ever let it die.

The banquet went by in a daze, and your mind drowns in thoughts of Donghyuck. For which reason was he here, miles and miles away from the hospital, in Yangyang’s spot at an event he deemed a waste of his time? A room filled with greed-filled people and flashy decor, chit-chat, and food that wouldn’t satisfy his picky palate. But on the other hand, this was exactly where he was supposed to be, between the powerful and skilled. 

Your untouched glass received a soft cling from Jeno’s glass. He gives you his ever-so-sweet smile. “Y/N, if you need to go, you can. I can handle the rest of this event alone.” You think back on the words that Winter spoke to you right at the beginning of your intro week at the hospital. How Donghyuck was far from your type. Lee Jeno was your type: he was hard-working, loving, and honest with his heart in anything he did. Even right now, in one of the most important moments of his career, he was willing to let you go because you wanted to. 

“They haven’t called out your name yet, Jeno. I can’t miss your spotlight of the night.” He looks down, and the corners of his lips falter. “Y/N, I don’t want one of my biggest nights to also be the night where you make one of your most regretful mistakes.” He still avoids your eyes. A few moments of silence pass between you two while you search for the right words to say.

“I’ll be okay, you can go now, Y/N.” Even though he maintained his body language perfectly fine, you knew deep down that he was hurting too. You stand up, his body flinching ever so slightly. 

“I’m sorry, Jeno.” Jeno Lee would have been your answer in any lifetime, but this is that one lifetime where your heart called another name.

♡

You saw the scene unfold in front of you. Donghyuck’s back was facing Mark and you, Mark was telling him things you knew bits and pieces of thanks to the talkative hospital staff. Haechan was crying, his lighter abandoned, and his words losing their firmness as he slowly crouched down. Mark doesn’t comfort him, instead, he turns around and looks at you. His eyes told you enough and you walked towards Donghyuck with caution. 

“Everyone deserves happiness. And everyone should move on from the past.” 

Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, all hopes shattering as you kissed him, but he wasn’t kissing you back. Your mind was a mess; did you read everything wrong? You were sure about him, but was he still doubtful about you? You push him away, embarrassment and anger fill you as you jump on your feet and flee the scene. 

You didn’t need to guess who was chasing after you when you entered the elevator. A heaving Donghyuck stops the elevator doors right before they close by forcing his hand between the tiny gap. You frown at him, “Surgeons should be careful with their hands.” He clicks on the 7th floor and only starts speaking once the doors close and the two of you are alone.

“Why did you leave the event?” He is asking the question because he selfishly wants to hear you say that you still like him. After everything that just happened, Lee Donghyuck still needed more confirmation.

“Why did you chase me here?” You fire back, hiding your embarrassment behind a thin veil of anger. He didn't answer, his actions and words were making you scoff. “If you can’t decide what you want. You shouldn’t have come after me, Dr. Lee.” The doors open and you hurry out, Donghyuck just one step behind you.

“Y/N, wait!” He stops you from closing your hotel room door, his brows pinched together as he tries to open the door, but you refuse. “Dr. Lee, don’t waste your breath on me.” The door doesn’t move, you know he’s still holding it in place, not pushing it open unless you allow him to, but not letting it shut him out because he knows this will be his last chance.

“Don’t talk like that.” 

Your grip on the door loosens and Donghyuck pushes the door open entirely, his body suddenly way too close. 

“What?”

“Don’t talk so negatively about yourself, I don’t like that.” He says, two beats of silence pass before you stammer another noise of confusion.

“And why should that matter to me? Why should it matter whether you like the things I do or not?” The back of your leg hits the edge of the table and you put your hands behind you to realize the table is stopping you from escaping him. 

Donghyuck doesn’t answer your question and takes half a step back and suddenly, you see him. He is furrowing his brows in frustration, and rubbing his sweaty palms against his dress pants. He is nervous to screw this up. He is nervous to screw up his chance with you.

Lee Donghyuck always held the rope in his hands. He is prideful and arrogant, talented and intelligent, structured and always in control. It was time to see if he would rather have his pride and control, or you.

“Did you mean what you said downstairs?” You ask him, mustering all your courage to act confident.

“I did, I do.” He answers immediately. 

“What else did you tell Mark that should have been said to me?”

“Being with me will be hard because I still don’t know how to be thoughtful towards others. I still don’t know how to take care of someone instead of fixing them physically. Heck – I don’t even know how to talk about my own emotions properly, but please listen to me when I say this Y/N. Are we very different from one another? Yes, and logically that should stop us from already. I will probably upset you more than make you happy. But whenever I think of my future and my dreams…” Donghyuck stops his rant to take a deep breath. 

“I know you are part of each and every one of them.” His eyes were searching for some sort of answer in yours. Darting left and right, looking for a glimpse of hope between the two of you. It took you all your willpower to suppress your smile. 

“I don’t deserve to beg you to choose me. But if there is even a small percentage of ‘like’ left for me.” His eyes are shining with all his emotions. Bare and raw. He is laying out all his cards – his feelings – out for you to take or leave.

He takes a deep breath, “I will take it. I will cherish it because you are my Sun, Y/N L/N. And even if you only allow one single ray of sunshine upon me, I will gratefully bask in that warmth and light forever.” His hand comes up to your face to wipe away your tears and you smile, bursting out in laughter at his words. 

Never did you expect Lee Donghyuck to talk like a poet, let alone a very desperate one at that. Having the upper hand was something you had wished for from day one when he oh so confidently smacked your mistakes in your face, but it has become clear to you that he had placed the rope in your hand a long while ago.

He musters an uncertain smile on his lips after you’ve been laughing for some time. “Please Y/N… say something to me.” 

“When did you realize you liked me?”

“I realized I liked you when I started doing things I never did before. And I knew I love you when the thought of not having you around started to annoy me more than when you make basic mistakes.”

“Gosh, where did that cold jerk go? You sound so sappy.” You tease him, hands trailing up his forearms. 

“If I were ever to hear all of the things I just told you, I might die from embarrassment.” You nod in agreement, face nearing his neck as you speak. “Don’t give me ideas I might use against you.” He smiles down at you, “I’m ready for any challenge you give me, I will prove myself.”

“Alright, we will see about that. First challenge; replace our first kiss from downstairs with one I won’t forget.” And he didn’t need to be told twice to oblige.

SEQUEL SNIPLET ♡

"Dude, you literally cannot ask me to run your ER while you're on your honeymoon. I cannot manage my duties in cardiology and emergency at the same time!" Mark complains, signing off another form head nurse Karina handed him a few minutes ago.

"Remember when you tricked me into confessing my feelings for my wife at that conference in Busan? I consider this payback." The cardiologist can already imagine the stupid smirk on his friend's face.

"I literally helped you get laid and get a wife?"

"In the most embarrassing way I've ever imagined. She literally still laughs in my face whenever she sees a lighter. Besides, both Doyoung and Jaehyun signed it off already. You can't go back unless I am back, and I am not back until my wife had enough of me." Mark rolls his eyes at his friend acting all smitten.

"Such a simp." Haechan laughs at the other end of the phone.

"See you in three months!" The cardiologist's eyes grow wide at those words. 3 months?!

taglist: @jaeveil, @lanadreamie, @pinknini7, @undomielsql, @yxnghyxck, @hyuckysunflower, @ypoom151999, @tinyzen - thank you for your patience!

any like, reblog, comment and feedback is appreciated! if you'd like to be on the taglist of this fic, let me know through an ask or comment on this work ♡

[sungbites]

LOVE AND SUBSCRIBE 5. god take me and all my oomfs

WARNINGS ⋮ ynmark being cutie, 6dream dumb as hell, CLIFFHANGER

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A/N ⋮ heheheheheheheheheheh

TAGLIST 1 ⋮ @17ericas @sunghoonsgfreal @polarisjisung @cosmicwintr @chenlezip @remtrack @ayukas @ykvdani @snwydoie @hyuckluvr-com @honeyfever @sinisxtea @yutarot @jae10velies @catdonut657 @mbella607 @tynlvr @haluenx @dirtsthings @i06hae @uncasings @jaehyunsroses @kittydollzz @why-th0 @mmjhh1998 @f6llsun @leleszn @hyuckysunflower @undomielsql @nebularsung @dilflover44 @hwangful @cupidzlv @urlocalbeaner5 @douqhnxtss @rubiiisyeon @iluv7tn @kynessa @haelvrty @httpsxnox @limbomoon @kakutoz @thealchemy89 @remgeolli @desssss-0 @va1entinaa (bold cannot be tagged)

[sungbites]

LOVE AND SUBSCRIBE 4. gomen oomf chan

WARNINGS ⋮ ynmark realness, family gc, jaerae, pick me twt people, death threats, etsy curse (????)

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A/N ⋮ SO i may or may not have forgotten to upload this chapter.... sorry seasonie~~~

TAGLIST 1 ⋮ @17ericas @sunghoonsgfreal @polarisjisung @cosmicwintr @chenlezip @remtrack @ayukas @ykvdani @snwydoie @hyuckluvr-com @honeyfever @sinisxtea @yutarot @jae10velies @catdonut657 @mbella607 @tynlvr @haluenx @dirtsthings @i06hae @uncasings @jaehyunsroses @kittydollzz @why-th0 @mmjhh1998 @f6llsun @leleszn @hyuckysunflower @undomielsql @nebularsung @dilflover44 @hwangful @cupidzlv @urlocalbeaner5 @douqhnxtss @rubiiisyeon @iluv7tn @kynessa @haelvrty @httpsxnox @limbomoon @kakutoz @thealchemy89 @remgeolli @desssss-0 @va1entinaa (bold cannot be tagged)

[sungbites]

LOVE AND SUBSCRIBE 3. another taerae lie

WARNINGS ⋮ kys jokes, ummm the birth of jaerae

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A/N ⋮ hehehehehhehhehe we are kickstarting the plot

TAGLIST 1 ⋮ @17ericas @sunghoonsgfreal @polarisjisung @cosmicwintr @chenlezip @remtrack @ayukas @ykvdani @snwydoie @hyuckluvr-com @honeyfever @sinisxtea @yutarot @jae10velies @catdonut657 @mbella607 @tynlvr @haluenx @dirtsthings @i06hae @uncasings @jaehyunsroses @kittydollzz @why-th0 @mmjhh1998 @f6llsun @leleszn @hyuckysunflower @undomielsql @nebularsung @dilflover44 @hwangful @cupidzlv @urlocalbeaner5 @douqhnxtss @rubiiisyeon @iluv7tn @kynessa @haelvrty @httpsxnox @limbomoon @kakutoz @thealchemy89 @remgeolli @desssss-0 @va1entinaa (bold cannot be tagged)

[sungbites]

LOVE AND SUBSCRIBE 2. Mark lee care me

WARNINGS ⋮ kys jokes, mention of blood, very chronically online, hyuck is a victim to bullying </////3

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A/N ⋮ i SWEAR the smau will move faster soon just bare with me

TAGLIST 1 ⋮ @17ericas @sunghoonsgfreal @polarisjisung @cosmicwintr @chenlezip @remtrack @ayukas @ykvdani @snwydoie @hyuckluvr-com @honeyfever @sinisxtea @yutarot @jae10velies @catdonut657 @mbella607 @tynlvr @haluenx @dirtsthings @i06hae @uncasings @jaehyunsroses @kittydollzz @why-th0 @mmjhh1998 @f6llsun @leleszn @hyuckysunflower @undomielsql @nebularsung @dilflover44 @hwangful @cupidzlv @urlocalbeaner5 @douqhnxtss @rubiiisyeon @iluv7tn (bold cannot be tagged)

[heartseungs]

safety zone | l.mk

pairing ❥ mark x reader genre ❥ angst, fluff, suggestive, university! au, best friends to lovers, roommate au word count ❥ 19.1k note ❥ this was inspired by sticker teaser mark. also because he really does keep pushing the parasocial relationship agenda these days. i really hope you guys like this because it took me at least 40+ hours to get it out so it's practically my baby now playlist ❥ west coast love - emotional oranges | saturday nights - khalid | hits different - taylor swift |  shutdown - moonbyul, seori synopsis ❥ Mark Lee. The most perfect roommate and best friend that you could have asked for - except for the fact that he constantly messes up your laundry and can’t cook eggs very well. Even then, that doesn’t quite stop you from falling for him in your final year.

You suppose meeting Mark Lee was a stroke of fate. Whether good or not, you had yet to find out.

Freshman orientation, and you had just been deposited on the concrete steps of the main university building by your parents, who were quick to drive off after giving you one last hug.

And as you passed through the hallowed halls where you were meant to spend the next five years of your life, thousands of other people your age rushing past you, you were excited. That you were finally on your own, free to do quite literally whatever the fuck you wanted.

The freedom was going to go to your head, and cause you to probably make a few bad decisions, but that was a problem for later.

For now, you had to get registered. If you could even find that tiny blue booth in this gigantic place.

And as you pulled your luggage up the steps, staring at the phone screen with your other hand, you supposed it was partially your fault that you didn’t see the boy walking straight past you, and also your fault that you didn’t hear him muttering an ‘excuse me’ under his breath.

However, it was a little too late to realise that before you were sent flying to the ground, a harsh exhale of air leaving you as you hit the ground with a thump.

And as you winced in pain, you looked up, only to be met with the culprit himself.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Went too fast.” The boy in front of you is wide-eyed, hands fisting nervously in the material of his washed out jeans, the grey plaid flannel hanging loosely over his shoulders and white-shirt. “You good?”

He extends a hand out to you, and you take it without thinking as he pulls you up. It’s a while before you collect yourself, glancing at him and not quite sure what to say.

“Um,” he scratches the back of his neck, cringing slightly. “Really sorry about that. First day here and I’m already knocking people down. I guess Hyuck was right.”

You have no idea who Hyuck is, and why he’s predicting the future for the awkward, gangly-limbed boy in front of you, but the sight of his expression makes you soften a little. He’s genuinely apologetic about it, and you suppose that beyond your ass being sore for the next two days, there hasn’t been much harm done.

“It’s okay. You’re a freshman too?” You ask, trying to break the ice a little - he seems nice enough, the kind of person who you’d smile at on campus when passing by.

At your question, he laughs a little, eyes lighting up. “Yeah. I was trying to find the registration counter before I crashed right into you.”

“Well, if you help me find it, consider this accident gone from my memory. I’m a little lost too,” you offer, and he nods eagerly. “No problem. It’s down that way, I think.”

And when he turns, motioning for you to follow, you smile. Your first friend on campus. Sort of.

“Hey, I realised I still don’t know your name,” you say, and Mystery Boy seems to hesitate for a moment, before smiling at you.

“Mark Lee. Engineering faculty. You?”

“Y/N. Early education.”

“So you wanna be a teacher?” he asks, and you shrug. “Don’t know. I’m not sure how much I like working with kids yet.”

“That’s fair. Oh, we’re here.” He halts his steps, joining the queue with you.

It’s not long before the both of you reach the front, the students being registered in pairs.

The person handling the both of you is a young-looking guy, and his nametag reads Jung Jaehyun. When he smiles, his dimples are obvious, and you find yourself relaxing a little.

“Registration documents, please. We’ll get this done quickly,” he says, quickly scanning the papers that you and Mark hand over.

“You’ll be staying in the dorms for the first semester, and then afterwards, you can either do rental on your own, or off-campus housing. Any ideas yet?” Jaehyun asks, and you motion for Mark to go first.

“Um, rental on my own.”

You nod in agreement at that. “Yeah, me too.”

You’ve heard that the off-campus housing isn’t that great, and almost the same price as apartments in the city.

“Well, that works. Though, word of advice-” Jaehyun rests his hand on the table, meeting both of your eyes. “Get a roommate. Or two. Saves lots of money. Preferably one who doesn’t smoke copious amounts of weed, because it stinks up the entire house.”

He says it like he has personal experience, and you cough into your hand, nodding.

“Either of you got roommates yet?”

“No.” You and Mark say it in unison, looking at each other when you realise it and grinning slightly.

Jaehyun leans back, looking at the both of you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Either of you stoners?”

You and Mark shake your head, and he whistles, impressed. “That’s rare. Well, just rent an apartment together, then.”

You glance at Mark, not quite sure what to say - you just met the man, after all.

“Um, we’ll think about it. Thanks for the suggestion,” he says, and Jaehyun nods. “No problem. here are your nametags, and you can head to the central square for the welcome activities.”

Your fingers close around the thin plastic folder, quickly thanking Jaehyun before you leave with Mark, the suggestion still lingering in your mind.

You do need a roommate. And Mark seems like a chill enough person, unless he’s secretly a serial killer.

“So…where are you planning to rent?”

“Probably somewhere near the city centre, but south. It’s nearer to the engineering faculty.”

When Mark says that, you feel a little bit more hopeful. “Me too. The education building’s just two subway stops down.”

“I wouldn’t mind, actually. You pay rent on time?”

“Yeah, I will. Dividing chores?”

“Of course. Also, just to make sure-” his mouth quirks up at the side. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”

“Fortunately not. I was thinking the same thing too.”

“Okay, great to know that we’re both not serial killers.” His comment lightens the mood a little, and you pause in your steps, outstretching your hand to Mark.

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in, and we can be friends first before deciding if we want to rent together next semester.”

He doesn’t protest, quickly slipping his phone out of his pocket and keying in his password.

And as you take it, you see his wallpaper - it’s a little white dog, staring up into the camera while someone’s sneakers are in frame - maybe his.

“Your wallpaper is cute. Is it your dog?” you ask, and Mark’s cheeks redden slightly as he shakes his head. “My friend’s. She’s called Daegal.”

“She’s really small. I wanted a dog when I was a kid,” you say off-handedly, quickly typing in your number and saving it with a ‘Y/N (potential future roomie)’ before giving his phone back to him. “Here.”

“You could get one next time.”

“Maybe. I can barely take care of myself now. I’m not sure if I can handle a dog.”

“I could ask my friend for advice, if you need it,” he says, smiling when he sees the contact name you saved. “Anyways, I’ll see you around, potential future roomie. We can get coffee next week or something.”

“Sounds good to me. By the way, Mark-”

He looks up at you, hands already tucked into his pockets.

“Who’s Hyuck?”

You only meet Hyuck, or otherwise known to everyone else as Lee Donghyuck, after you actually become roommates with Mark.

Somewhere along the way, the coffee outings had worked out, neither you or Mark finding each other’s presence unwanted, until it became natural to see Mark at least twice a week. Sometimes, it was midnight fries at McDonalds, and other times, it was lunches in the food hall, praying that the fresh pasta hadn’t yet run out.

And when the semester ended, you hadn’t hesitated to sign the lease that Mark handed you, for a perfectly-sized two-bedroom apartment overlooking one of the many crisscrossing side streets that made up the district.

It had the kitchenette you wanted, enough space in the living room for a four-person couch, and space for Mark to put his keyboard and guitar - which was the only thing he really wanted, honestly. The rest of the finishing touches had been suggested by you, like the IKEA oak coffee table and the extra cabinets for storage space.

The first month had been awkward and fraught with trivial disagreements, despite your relatively close friendship. Things like Mark not separating the blacks and whites during his laundry runs, or your terrible habit of leaving the bathroom light on at night. At some point, the both of you had even bickered over what plates to get, partially because you didn’t trust him with fragile items quite yet.

But his easygoing nature matched well with yours, and eventually the both of you settled into the rhythm of living together. He learnt that rule number one was to never go into your room without knocking or asking first, and you eventually stopped nagging at him to put a shirt on unless you were having friends over.

And sometime in August, you had come home, groceries in both of your hands, to find a complete stranger sitting on your couch, headphones placed squarely on his head.

You had screamed at him. and Donghyuck, naturally, had screamed back.

The both of you looked at each other, frozen, before Mark came rushing down the hallway, a confused expression on his face. “What- oh.”

“Mark, I thought you told her I was coming,” the man complains, his honey-brown hair falling over his eyes as he says it. Your gaze immediately shifts to your roommate, a very clear expression of what the hell? on your face.

“I think I forgot. Sorry. Um, Y/N, this is Hyuck.” Mark motions in the general periphery of the man on the couch, who smiles sweetly at you.

“Donghyuck to you. We’re not friends yet. Though we could be,” the boy adds thoughtfully, and you still haven’t quite recovered from the shock of the situation as you nod robotically. “Nice to meet you.”

Mark seems to notice the tension in the air, and immediately moves over to the kitchen counter. “I’ll help you unpack the groceries,” he offers, and you hand a few bags over to him.

Once Donghyuck’s out of earshot, however, you turn to Mark. “Is he staying for dinner? I don’t know if I bought enough ingredients.”

You and Mark had agreed to alternate cooking dinners each week, unless the other person had extenuating circumstances (like final exams). This week, it was your turn.

“It’s fine. If he doesn’t have enough, he can just make ramen,” Mark says, and you nod.

“Mark says you’re a really good cook.” The both of you jump at the sound of Donghyuck’s voice, not realising he came up behind at some point.

“That’s just because I can crack eggs, and Mark can’t.” You snort slightly at the expression on Mark’s face when you say that, his eyes widening in incredulity.

“You said I improved!”

“Having less eggshells to chew through in my omelette was an improvement,” you say, and his face falls comically. While he has made some improvements since learning to cook, you suppose eggs are the one thing that still intimidate him - Mark relies a lot more on oven-baked dinners and the air fryer to get the both of you through.

“You’re brave for eating what he makes,” Donghyuck comments.

“Very brave,” you say gravely, and he laughs. “I like her, Mark. She’s funny.”

“Thanks a lot, guys. Really feeling the love here,” your roommate grumbles, but Donghyuck ignores him, turning to you.

“Can we have kimchi-jjigae for dinner?” he asks, and you stiffen, because the ingredients you prepared are exactly for that dish. But you don’t quite want to give Donghyuck that satisfaction yet, only tilting your head up and narrowing your eyes at him.

“This isn’t a restaurant. You’ll eat what I give you.”

His eyes widen slightly, but it’s quickly replaced by mirth. “Noted, ma’am,” he retorts, and you decide that Donghyuck is the kind of person who’s annoying as all hell, but in the fun kind of way that makes you want to have him around and groan at his presence at the same time.

“Now, I need the both of you to move to the couch, because this kitchenette is way too small for three.” You make a shooing motion towards the two men, and thankfully, they listen obediently, Donghyuck returning back to his laptop.

After a while, you hear shuffling, and you turn to see Mark with his lips pursed, barely holding back a laugh. At the sight of his obvious amusement, you raise an eyebrow.

“Look at this video,” he says, turning the phone screen towards you, and you squint at the grainy resolution, before letting out a groan.

“Mark, this video is like, a decade old. No one watches Vines anymore,” you grumble, and your roommate stares at you incredulously. “But it’s still funny!”

“No, it’s not,” you say dryly, looking to Donghyuck for support, who’s watching the entire thing play out with amusement on his features. “Donghyuck, tell him the video isn’t funny.”

“That’s what I said. He sends me at least two a day,” the boy says from where he’s cross-legged on the couch, and Mark flashes you a look of utter, complete betrayal.

“Sorry, Mark,” you say lightly, patting him on the back in an act of comfort before he returns to the couch, dejected. It’s almost cute, and you hide your snort as you return back to your spot at the stove.

“What about this one?” You hear Mark ask Hyuck a few minutes later, who doesn’t hesitate to disagree and go on a tirade about how he doesn’t understand someone can be that unfunny and think it’s okay to put me through it by sending video after video.

The conversation only makes you smile as you settle into the familiar motion of prepping ingredients, something about it making you feel more at ease and more at home in the apartment that you’ve been in for only four months.

Corny sense of humor aside, you couldn’t ask for a better roommate. And you suppose Lee Donghyuck is okay too.

Eventually, the both of you do become friends, especially when Donghyuck realises the kimchi-jjigae you make is almost as good as his grandma’s, and while she’s a three-hour flight away, you and Mark live twenty minutes from his dorm.

Your freshman year passes that way, the beginning of so many things. Between the months spent studying and sitting at the counter eating ramen at midnight, Mark Lee becomes your best friend, until the both of you are almost inseparable.

And Donghyuck? Well, he comes and goes. Though you suppose you do have a modicum of affection for the overly dramatic theatre major.

There’s something thrilling about being in your final year, less than twelve months before you graduate.

You wonder if everything will be the same as it always is.

“Who the fuck is Draymond Green?”

“He’s a basketball player, you idiot.”

“You could have said Stephen Curry. I know who that is.”

“Is that the only one you know?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Donghyuck sets down his drink as he says it, eyes deliberately challenging Chenle to continue their pointless banter, one that the rest of you witness quietly, already used to the both of them.

“If the both of you are done, try finishing the food. We ordered too much,” Jisung says, and both Donghyuck and Chenle turn towards him in sync.

“Are you giving me instructions?” Donghyuck asks incredulously.

“I’m older than you, you know,” Chenle not-so-helpfully points out, and you look at the youngest boy sympathetically as his shoulders sink and his lips purse in an almost comical expression of frustration.

Except that it’s Jisung, and you’ve always had a soft spot for the introverted dance major, who’s like a little brother to you.

“Quit it, you two. He acts more mature than the both of you on most days.” At your words, Jisung smiles brightly at you, and you motion for him to eat a little more. “A dance major needs more food.”

“Theatre majors need food too!” Donghyuck whines dramatically, and you don’t hesitate to move the plate away from him, ignoring his protests that become even louder.

“You should eat too,” Mark encourages in a low murmur, picking up the tempura with his chopsticks and placing it on your plate. “You didn’t take much.”

You smile at him, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Yeji bought pizza for everyone today after our meeting, and Ms Lee let us finish the leftover muffins. I’m stuffed.”

“Still, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach,” he chides, moving the can of cider a little further from you, and you decide to relent to your best friend’s demand.

“Got it. You know, you should have just gone for a degree in Nutrition,” you tease, and the corner of Mark’s mouth quirks up as he meets your eyes. “I could. But Engineering’s…fun.”

“Don’t lie, Mark. I sat in on one of your lectures once.”

“That’s because it was the middle of the year! And data structures is one of the hardest topics in the syllabus.”

“Still, I think that was enough numbers to last me a lifetime.” You shiver at the memory of the screen, the different formulas displayed having been enough to give you a headache.

“I could teach you,” he offers, and you raise an eyebrow. “You think you’re better than Mr Kim?”

“Probably. Unless you see me as a balding sixty-five-year-old on the verge of sleep.”

“I mean, there is a slight resemblance- ow!”

Mark pinches your side at your comment, taking more food and dumping it in your bowl. “No more nonsense. Eat, or you’re never getting your drink back.”

“You’re so bossy,” you grumble, but you take a few bites anyway, and he looks pleased when he sees you finish a little bit more of the rice.

Until you see Jisung frantically taking out his phone in your peripheral vision, his screen lighting up with something that makes him let out a guttural groan. Donghyuck and Chenle pause their conversation temporarily, just to turn towards him.

“What’s wrong?” Chenle asks, and Jisung seems to hesitate, fingers drumming on the table as he meets your gazes one by one.

“I forgot I have filming at eight tomorrow. Fuck,” he says, ruffling his own hair in frustration.

“And your dorm’s so far away from here too…”

You look at Mark, trying to think of a solution.

“Jisung?” The boy opposite looks up at your mention of his name. “How about you stay at our place tonight?” you offer.

He seems to think about it, glancing towards Mark for approval as well. Your roommate only shrugs. “Sure. We’ll make space.”

All at once, Jisung’s features seem to light up, and he clasps his hands together, head bent down. “Thank you. You two are lifesavers.”

His earnest words make you laugh softly. “Should we head back then? It’s late.”

Mark nods, motioning for the bill, and you pack up your things.

Eventually, the five of you leave the restaurant and step out onto the smooth cobblestone of the street, with Jisung, Donghyuck and Chenle in front while you and Mark trail behind.

“i can’t believe it’s already November,” Mark comments, gaze tilted upwards to the sky.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ve even registered that we’re in our final year. Much less that the first semester is ending.”

“But you’ve got everything all planned out already, haven't you?”

“Sort of,” you reply sheepishly, and Mark laughs, shaking his head. “You’re way too ambitious. It’s a little scary.”

“Pretty sure I remember someone saying that ambition led to success in my high school Civics class. Either way, I want to retire by the time I’m forty.”

“Before that, could you use your income to buy us a bigger apartment?”

“What, you think we’ll be roommates with each other until I’m forty?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mark says earnestly, and it makes the space he takes up in your heart get a little bigger, curling warmly at the edges.

“I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll move to an island in the middle of nowhere, away from civilization.”

‘As if. You’re a city girl,” he points out, and you know that Mark knows that you know he’s right. “So, roommates at forty?” he asks, and your lips tilt up involuntarily.

“Sure.”

It’s not long before you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment building, Donghyuck and Chenle waving goodbye before they head to the subway station. Meanwhile, Jisung follows behind the both of you, slightly reminiscent of a lost puppy.

Once you’re back home, you quickly hang your jacket in the cabinet. “I’m showering first, okay?”

The two boys make a noise of assent at your question, and you assume Mark’s going to lend Jisung his clothes to change into as they go down the hallway.

It’s only when you step out of the bathroom that you hear the soft background sound effects of some video game from Mark’s room, Jisung occasionally exclaiming something inaudible, and you smile slightly. Your best friend isn’t one for these sorts of things, but it’s quite a big hobby for the rest of them. There have been a few times where you’ve shuffled out of your bedroom at midnight to tell them to quiet down, usually receiving a few quickly muttered apologies before Donghyuck’s screaming at Mark to get his head in the game.

You hope that they won’t stay up too late, mainly for Jisung’s sake - he has a shoot, after all, and you’re pretty sure Mark doesn’t have any morning lessons on Saturdays.

Sleep finds you quickly, the alcohol from earlier making you just the right amount of drowsy as you attempt to set an alarm for tomorrow for breakfast.

“Y/N.”

“Hey, wake up.”

“Y/N.”

You let out a groan into your pillow, turning away from the dream voice that sounds suspiciously like Mark - you’re too tired to deal with this.

But the voice doesn’t go away, instead changing to an insisted hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and you open your eyes to glare sleepily at your best friend, before looking at the clock.

“It’s four in the morning, Mark. Unless there’s a fire or something-”

“If there was a fire, I’d sound a lot more panicked than this, don’t you think?” he shoots back sarcastically, and you take in his appearance - he’s wearing a grey hoodie, a pillow hugged in his left arm, and looking just a little forlorn.

“What is it? I want to sleep,” you mumble.

“Jisung takes up too much space. And he snores.”

“Just push him.”

“I tried! Fell off the bed,” he confesses, and you would laugh at the scene, except that you’re still half-asleep.

“Can I just sleep here for tonight?” he asks, doe eyes blinking at you blearily, and you hesitate at the request - it’s not like you’re uncomfortable with Mark sleeping next to you. You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder plenty of times, and there was that one time where you literally passed out drunk and the boy had to piggyback you to your apartment, but this is your bed.

However, you’re also well aware that Mark’s bed is a twin size, which is smaller and probably highly uncomfortable for him and Jisung to share, while yours is a queen.

You were being overdramatic. It was just a bed, and Mark was your best friend. Of three years, no less.

Also, it literally didn’t have to mean anything.

Right?

There was plenty of space. Enough for you to keep your distance from him.

You chalk up your doubts to late-night overthinking, and nod slowly. Well, as best as someone can nod while lying on their side, but it’s enough for Mark to smile at you gratefully.

“Take the left side. If you move over, I’ll kick you,” you threaten, and he nods eagerly. “Noted.”

And just for security, you place a pillow between the both of you.

It’s only when he’s lying down next to you, breathing evened out, that you peek open one eye. “Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, I will soon,” he promises, turning to face you. In the darkness of the room, you can barely make out his features, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Something about it feels strangely sweet, enough for your cheeks to redden slightly as you turn resolutely away from him, staring hard at the wall of your cabinet. “Night.”

Two months into your lease with Mark, the both of you had created your informal agreement, otherwise labelled as ‘Roommate Code of Honour’ on Mark’s Notes app.

“Code of honour? What are you, a boy scout?”

“I was, actually. First-class,” Mark says without hesitation, and you almost choke on the mouthful of chocolate cake that you have.

“Makes sense.” He seemed exactly like the kind of person who would be a boy scout.

“Anyways, this is just for us to put down stuff that we think is important. Like, I know that we’re supposed to separate the blacks and whites, but-”

“But-”

“What about coloured clothing?” he asks, and you gape at him. “Mark, have you been washing all the coloured clothes together?”

“Maybe…” he trails off, gaze leaving yours and anxiously taking a sip of the drink.

“Okay, this is a good idea. Give me your phone,” you say as you stretch out your hand, but Mark pulls his phone back from you.

“This is meant to be a collaborative process, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t collaborative the moment you turned all my white shirts grey.”

Mark winces at that. “Fair point. But we still need to be equal on this.”

“Fine,” you relent.

And over an hour, seated on the second floor of your favourite cafe, you and Mark pick the ten most important things that you want to keep, the others either compromised or decided as simply too insignificant.

#1: money (mark covers utilities, y/n handles groceries and household items)

#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off the sink after shaving)

“You leave hair all over the place too!” Mark protests, and you roll your eyes.

#2: always put the toilet seat back down (and clean your hair off everywhere)

#3: laundry and cleaning the house will be alternated each week

#4: two days’ advance notice before having anyone over (not required for hyuck, yeji, jaemin or karina)

“Does this include hookups?” you ask, and Mark blushes at that question. “Yeah, I guess.”

“No hookups on nights where the other person has to wake up early the next day,” you add, and he nods. “Sure.”

Most of them are trivial, but important - and despite all your teasing, you’re grateful for someone like Mark, who’s willing to be a good roommate.

Until you reach the last one, which makes you smile.

#10: movie nights are every friday at 10pm

Mark had argued something about ‘roommate bonding’, or the importance of relationship-building- you weren’t quite sure what exactly, but the idea had sounded good to you.

Because you’d never been one for university parties, preferring to stay in unless your presence was absolutely required, but the idea of unwinding with your close friend at the end of the week was a welcome form of socialization.

“Do we pick the movie every week?” you ask, and he nods. “We can make a list too.”

“Okay.” You slide the phone back over to him, finishing the last of your coffee. “I think this looks good.”

“Me too,” Mark says, satisfaction tugging at his lips, and his eyes are bright as he looks at you.

The atmosphere feels strangely light and hopeful - as if it’s just the very start of something.

And you’re right - because throughout sophomore and junior year, Mark becomes the one most constant thing in your life. The both of you have changed slightly in your own ways, but the movie nights are still the one thing you look forward to at the end of the week, where your legs are thrown over his lap and whatever takeout you’ve gotten for dinner spread out over the coffee table.

Today is another one of those days, and you wonder how both you and Mark haven’t run out of movies to watch yet - he said something about Avatar today, you think, having sent you a text earlier of the poster.

When you kick off your shoes in the doorway, Mark’s already on the couch, absentmindedly nibbling at the popcorn.

“Starting without me?” you ask, and he shakes his head, handing you your own bowl.

It was another thing that the both of you had agreed on - after all, you liked your popcorn sweet and caramel-flavoured, and while you couldn’t understand how someone liked salty popcorn, well - there was Mark.

Which meant two separate bowls chock-full of the snack, enough to make the both of you happy.

“Mark,” you start, and the man hums in acknowledgement. “You know we have a Disney Plus subscription, right? And Netflix too?”

“Yeah, but the movie just came out like, five days ago. This is pirated.”

“We can just wait for it to be uploaded, then.”

“But I really want to watch it,” he half-pleads and half-whines. “Besides, Hyuck went, and he’ll definitely spoil it.”

You suppose he’s right, but as you lean back, crossing your legs on the couch, you frown. “We’re going to get porn pop-ups every thirty minutes.”

He coughs awkwardly at that, making you grin slightly. It’s strange how shy he gets, considering you’d expect Mark to at least have some experience with girls - or at least not act like the topic of sex is enough to make him embarrassed.

However, he’s still fiddling with the laptop, crouched next to the console, when you poke his side with your foot.

You have a crazy idea. A good one, but crazy nonetheless.

“What if we went to the cinema right now?” you ask, and he blinks at you, stunned.

“Right now? It’s like, one hour to midnight.”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure they have showings.” You whip out your phone for emphasis, quickly going to the website and letting out a hum of satisfaction when you find it.

“Thirty minutes. We can make it.”

Mark looks at you hesitantly - always having been the less spontaneous one of the both of you. But it’s a Friday, after all, and it’s good, harmless fun.

And you know he really wants to watch the movie, if the way he’s on freemovies123.com and patiently waiting for each risqué ad to disappear is any indication.

“I’ll pay for tickets,” you offer, smiling knowingly when he lights up a little - it’s characteristic of any college student to perk up at the mention of anything free, after all, and you know he’s slowly shifting to a ‘yes’.

It’s barely a few seconds before he shuts his laptop, meeting your gaze. “We should get changed. It’s cold out today.”

There’s one good thing about having a roommate with a driving license - that it’s not you.

Because while Mark worries about traffic lights and less-than-friendly taxi drivers, you’re staring out the window absentmindedly, enjoying Bruno Major filtering out the speakers.

It had been one thing he wanted - a good sound system, just so the both of you could enjoy your playlists on the road.

Thankfully, the timing means that there’s barely anyone else around as Mark goes down the highway, humming softly to the music.

“I like late-night drives with you,” you chirp, gaze fixed on Mark’s expression as he smiles, face fading in and out of the golden light of the street lamps.

“Any particular reason?”

“You’re a good driver,” you start, and he turns towards you briefly, narrowing his eyes. “You make me sound like an Uber hire.”

“Um-” you lick your lips. “You have good music?” you try, and your best friend lets out a laugh that sounds more like a scoff, shaking his head. “You’re hopeless,” he says, and you immediately lean closer, shaking your head.

“It’s not just that! When you drive, I-” you hesitate, trying to find the exact words. “I feel really safe. I don’t really feel that way with anyone else on the road.”

Mark doesn’t respond for a few moments, but from the way his hands tighten on the wheel, you know he heard every word clearly.

After a while, he finally speaks.

“Is that why you get me to drive you everywhere?” he asks, and you nod slowly, until you see the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement, earning him a punch on the shoulder from you.

“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. Car accidents can do a lot to a person, you know.”

It’s only then that Mark straightens. “Car accident?”

“Yeah,” you hum, fiddling with the volume of the music to turn it down. “Got into one when I was a kid.”

“How bad?”

“Not that bad. I was in the backseat, so there were only a few scrapes. The other car got it worse, honestly.”

You’ve never told anyone else about this, simply because it’s never quite come up. But when you spend so much time with someone like Mark, small snippets of your life come up eventually - like how you know he sprained his ankle once playing soccer, or that he failed art in elementary school but got perfect grades for music.

And when the feeling of his hand settles warmly over yours, you’re yanked out of your thoughts, blankly staring at his fingers winding themselves between your thumb and your index.

It causes heat to flood through you, even though you’re aware the action is meant to be soothing.

When you hear his next words, however, it’s enough to make your heart soften to a dangerous degree - of such unspeakable fondness that only Mark has been able to elicit to some extent.

“I’ll drive you everywhere from now on, okay? Promise,” he smiles softly as he says it, tugging your pinky towards his own before you can even respond to seal the agreement.

Even when he was a kid, Mark took easily to leadership.

He remembers standing on the podium on his first day on the job as student president, socks cuffed at the perfect length past his ankles, as he delivered his first stuttered-out address to hundreds of middle-schoolers no older than him.

It got easier after that, as he fell into the role more comfortably.

After that, it was chairperson of his high-school music club, helping to compose different pieces for the summer and winter festivals.

Now, in university, he supposes there aren’t really things like student council presidents anymore - everyone is interested in their own lives, and Mark’s not entirely sure he enjoys the entire process of putting himself out there to be judged.

It’s always been the people who made him want to do what he did, and Mark supposes that now his attention is turned to his friends. Reigning in Donghyuck’s more mischievous and unrestrained impulses, preventing Jisung from making the same naive decisions he did at twenty, or getting Jaemin to leave the house to meet his friends and not give in to his natural tendency of isolation - it’s something that he does gladly. Mark would like to think that he knows his friends well, and being the oldest makes him the best-suited to take on the responsibility.

Still, there are times when he likes letting go, not thinking and worrying so hard - most of the time it’s being alone with just his guitar. In those few hours, his brain seems to go perfectly quiet.

Other times, it’s you pulling him into a cinema at midnight, two movie tickets and a brand-new box of popcorn hugged in your arm.

When you halt your footsteps, Mark doesn’t even realise until you’re standing in front of him. If he just angled his face down slightly, the tips of your noses would brush.

“Didn’t you say you really wanted to watch this?” you ask, lashes fluttering, and Mark nods. “Yeah.”

“Then why do you look so sad?” You’re frowning at him, and he has the temptation to smooth out the line in your forehead with his thumb.

“I’m really happy, actually,” he murmurs, and he means it. There’s something about this entire thing that makes him feel more peaceful than he has in a long time. “I was just thinking.”

Thinking about you, to say the least. He didn’t know he could be so comfortable with a person, that spending time felt as easy as breathing.

Thankfully, you don’t question his cryptic words further, only tightening your hold on the tickets. “Let’s walk quicker then. You always complain when we miss the beginning of movies.”

You say it with the easy familiarity of someone who knows him well, and Mark laughs softly. “That’s because you always take too long to get ready.”

“I don’t!”

“You once spent one hour trying to curl your hair, and then decided to leave it straight.”

“That was for your cousin’s wedding. My hair needed to look decent. Besides, I’m the only plus one you have. Who would you ask? Hyuck?”

“Maybe. I’m sure he’d look good in a wig.”

“But your family loves me,” you say smugly, and Mark can’t give a response against that, because you’re right. You’re practically adored by everyone, from his grandparents to even his youngest niece.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, but you only grin. “Can’t help it.”

Eventually, you finally reach the doors of the cinema hall, and Mark pushes the door open, a cold gust of air-conditioning hitting the both of you directly as you make your way down to the seats.

When you shiver, he looks at you disapprovingly. “I thought I told you to wear something warm.”

“A long-sleeved shirt is warm,” you protest, and he huffs, but shrugs off his denim jacket anyways.

“Take it. If you get a flu, I have to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, quickly wearing it on. “Besides, you owe me one for that time you got stomach flu.”

Mark shivers at the very mention of it. Almost six months ago, and yet he still remembers barely being able to get out of bed. That week, you had come home immediately each time your lectures ended, searching up different websites for recipes that wouldn't upset his stomach. Porridge, soups, stews - Mark was pretty sure you had cycled through hundreds of different ingredients, and blew a complete hole in your allowance deliberately only buying organic, but you resolutely refused to tell him about it until he found you eating instant ramen the next month.

It was equal parts frustrating and endearing - the way you wouldn’t tell anyone about your problems, until you were pestered endlessly. Not so different from him, he supposed, though you took it to an even greater degree.

“Mark, I can hear you thinking. Stop and watch the movie,” you chide, grabbing his upturned palm and placing a handful of popcorn on it.

He turns to see you, profile lit against the bright lights of the screen, as you laugh at some advertisement being shown, eyes bright despite the late hour, and Mark thinks this might become one of his favourite memories with you.

And it does, even when you fall asleep in the car four hours later and he has to carry you up, your arms slung around his neck.

Mark Lee is showering when he hears a scream.

It’s shrill enough to make him turn off the water, the steam clearing until he sees his own reflection in the glass.

“Y/N? You good?” He asks it loud enough for you to hear, but there isn’t a response.

You’re not a jumpy person, and while you would probably be alright if he just continued his shower, a what if of worry has Mark wrapping a towel around his waist and opening the door.

However, you’re nowhere to be seen in the hallway, and Mark moves to the living room, seeing you backfacing him, a spoon still in your hands and your posture unnaturally defensive.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you turn, an expression of abject horror etched on your features.

“There’s a cockroach somewhere. I saw it on the floor, and it’s gone now,” you say in a rush, and Mark laughs.

“Don’t laugh! This is serious,” you say to him, and your roommate only shakes his head. He’s aware of your fear of bugs, though, which is why he takes the spoon from your hands and steers you towards the hallway.

“If you’re that scared, go to your room. I’ll catch it later.”

You nod in agreement. “You still have shampoo in your hair, by the way,” you point out, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, because someone screamed so loud that I thought there was a murderer in our apartment.”

“I think I would have a better chance of surviving anyways,” you bite back, and Mark glances doubtfully at the spoon in your hand, and then back at you.

“Sure, Y/N.”

You wave him off. “Enjoy your shower.”

However, right as Mark places his hand on the door handle, there’s another shriek. He spots the cockroach first, scuttling across the floor, before he sees you barrelling towards him.

“Oh my god!” you shout as you run towards Mark, and his arms reflexively open as you hug him tightly in fear - not entirely registering the fact that he is still very much half-naked.

You’re gripping onto him tightly, face buried into the crook of his neck, and it’s a few seconds before Mark realizes the proximity of your position, every inch of your body warm against his bare skin.

It’s enough to make the tips of his ears flush scarlet, and Mark can’t hear anything other than the aggressive beating of his heart.

“Um, Y/N-” he makes an attempt to start, patting you on the shoulder gently. “Let me go.”

You seem to realise it at the same time he does, quickly stepping back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry.”

Mark lets out a laugh, even though it comes out choked. “It’s okay. Just- I’ll shower and come right back out, okay?”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” you stutter out, all thoughts of the insect forgotten as you backtrack hastily into your room, quickly shutting the door behind you.

Mark stares blankly at the oak wood of your bedroom door, before blinking to clear his head. “Jesus,” he mutters, wondering what the hell just happened.

His body feels warm all over, almost like he’s having a fever, and it’s like he can still feel the sensation of your palms flat against his lower back, your breath tickling the space between his neck and shoulder.

And when he sees his reflection in the mirror, there are two spots of bright red on his cheeks.

Everything returns to normal after that.

Well, almost.

Other than the fact that Mark can’t seem to stop thinking about you.

It’s bad enough that as his roommate and best friend, you already take up a decently large space of his brain - whether it’s worrying about when you’ll get home once it’s past midnight, or messaging you to ask if you want takeout.

But something about this is a hundred times worse.

Because just the sight of you is enough to have blood rushing to his face, his head darting down to avoid your gaze.

And Mark feels stupid. For God’s sake, he’s not some teenage boy - he’s already twenty-three, and yet he’s acting like a twelve-year-old who just held hands with a girl for the first time.

He’s shared a bed with you. He’s watched you cry after you failed your first exam, tears and snot balled up into countless tissues and filling up the little trashbin in your room. At some point, he had helped to clean up your vomit when you got a bad case of food poisoning.

To be fair, that was because the pancakes he made for breakfast were only half-cooked, so it was sort of his responsibility.

But the fact remains that Mark’s done hundreds of things with you, and spent countless hours by your side - all of which have allowed him to function normally without feeling like his heart is about to combust.

But now, he can’t even sit next to you without his words turning into stuttering chunks of speech.

It doesn’t help that you’re also naturally affectionate, a habit that you picked up from Donghyuck, of all people, and each time you slide your arm into his or wrap a hand around his waist is enough to have his brain short-circuit.

Deep down, Mark has an inkling why he’s like this.

He just really hopes it isn’t true.

It’s not something he’s told anyone, not Chenle, not Renjun, not even Hyuck, who practically knows all of Mark’s deepest, darkest secrets.

That for a minuscule, short duration of three months, Mark had a crush on you. The pretty girl who he collided directly into on the very first day.

There were times when he wondered if the coffee trips could be labelled dates, or if it was a figment of his hyperactive imagination and racing heart. And as the both of you got closer, Mark always teetered between the temptation of trying to ask you out and the fear that he still didn’t know you that well.

Until the both of you got too close as friends, and it was more comfortable to simply stay within the boundaries of friendship. And eventually, Mark put it behind him, seeing those three initial months as nothing more but a simple infatuation that preceded his friendship with you.

And it wasn’t like you had expressed a lot of interest in him either, occasionally complaining to Mark about dates you went on or the newest eye candy that you had seen on campus.

So he let it go, and Mark thought he could be perfectly happy like this.

Until last week, when he was returned to freshman year.

Since then, Mark has been avoiding you with the excuse of coursework, partly for the own good of his heart and also because he doesn’t want to throw you off with his sudden, odd behaviour.

But you know him a little too well, which means that when Friday comes, you’re banging on his bedroom door.

“Mark Lee, I know you’re done with your coursework. Let me in,” you demand, and the man gulps nervously, wishing that he’d bought those noise-cancelling headphones so he could at least use them as an excuse.

He sidles towards the door reluctantly, feet dragging even as little pinpricks of excitement jab at his heart - a sensation he’s quickly come to associate with you.

“Hey. Um, you need anything?” he asks, voice tight with nervousness.

“I need to know why my best friend’s avoiding me like the plague,” you say without hesitating, slipping in through the small space between his body and the door before he can kick you out.

“i’m not avoiding you. I’m just really busy,” Mark lies. “Like, with school and stuff.”

God, it sounds bad even to his ears.

“I hope you know I didn’t believe that for a second,” you say, walking to his desk and looking directly at his completely-shut laptop.

“I-” Mark’s throat feels dry as you abruptly turn towards him, cutting across the room and facing him directly, hands squared on your hips as you tilt your head.

“Did you commit a crime? I know how to hide a body, you know.”

“…No?”

“Forgot to pay rent? Left the stove on? Or-”

“It’s none of that!” He says, hands instinctively reaching for your shoulders to halt you from listing any other potential transgressions he might have made.

And when you meet his eyes again, you look properly frustrated, before you seem to sink slightly, voice turning a little softer.

“Did I do something…wrong? You can tell me, you know.” You blink up at him slowly, and Mark’s heart feels bittersweet as he sees the slight worry in your gaze.

“No. Of course not.” Guilt rises in his stomach - of course his standoffish behaviour would make you think the worst. ‘’It’s none of that.”

Mark wishes that he could kick his feelings to the side and shove them far down, if only to make the doubt in your features go away. Considering that it’s you he has these feelings for, however, makes the task seem near impossible, but Mark thinks it doesn’t hurt to try.

So he smiles, bright enough to make you relax a little. “It’s really just school. I realised I actually need to do well to graduate, and I didn’t want my stress to get to you.”

At his words, your eyes glaze over with a familiar, warm empathy, and Mark tries not to let his relief become too palpable. “I get it. But, Mark-”

“Hm?”

“You can come to me for these sorts of things, you know? When you’re stressed. I want to be that person for you.”

What you’re saying is simple- expected, even, considering the nature of your relationship with him, but it still knocks the breath out of Mark.

He’s loved by you. That much is clear, even if it’s not exactly in the way he so desperately wishes to be loved by you. But even this is enough.

“Okay. Yeah, I will,” he promises, realising that he doesn’t hate the bittersweet feeling in his heart that is already so closely associated with you - not when it’s constantly soothed by the quiet happiness of having you by his side.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” You loop your arm in his, pulling him out of the room. “Since that’s resolved, no more hiding in your room.”

“But-”

“No buts. We study here from now on. you’re not the only one with exams, you know,” you say as you bring your books and laptop out, scattering them across the dining table.

Mark can tell when you’ve set your mind on something, and so he doesn’t resist, placing his own things opposite you and welcoming it when you smile in approval.

For a while, he sits there blankly - he wasn’t even studying in the first place, after all, and he’s already well-prepared for his technical exam next week, but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when you call his name expectantly.

You’ve already made yourself comfortable by the window, your headphones resting snugly around your ears as you tilt your head at him, eyes bright.

You look pretty, as always.

But Mark’s almost-adoring gaze is left unnoticed by you as you frown at him. Study, you mouth, picking up your textbook and pointing to it for emphasis in a way that makes a laugh bubble out his chest.

It’s cute. You’re cute.

If he doesn’t do as you say, however, Mark’s cover will genuinely be busted, and so the man genuinely tries to immerse himself in revision for his readings as best as he can.

And if he occasionally sneaks glances just to admire you in the golden glow of dusk that spills through the window - well, it didn’t happen if you didn’t catch him, did it?

You’re standing in the kitchen when you hear Mark’s bedroom door open, and a soft yawn from the hallway.

“Morning. I made toast, and Chenle gave us a new bottle of jam the other day,” you say, pushing a plate across the counter.

“Thanks,” he says, voice still rough from sleep and eyes only half-open as he munches absentmindedly at the first piece of bread he picks up.

He’s always the sleepiest on Thursday mornings, mainly because the lectures are first thing in the morning and on the furthest side of the campus. And considering how much of a night owl Mark is, waking up anytime before ten is practically punishment for him.

Meanwhile, you’re perfectly chirpy, already having gotten your first coffee of the day down and your usual omelette slowly cooking away in the pan.

“You know, Donghyuck suggested doing a trip during winter break,” you say, and Mark hums in agreement, thinking it over. “To where?”

“Out of the city. Maybe to the beach. I think it would be fun.”

“Are you going to plan it, then?” he asks, and you nod excitedly. You’ve always had a penchant for travelling, and maybe it’s because of your course in early education - you’re already used to organizing different programmes.

“I was thinking we would do a barbecue, and then maybe just some games and karaoke. Though I’m sure some of the guys want to go biking, and I think Yeji mentioned doing a pottery class or checking out local markets.” You ramble out all your ideas in a rush, but Mark only nods at your every word.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“We just need to find a house big enough for all twelve of us- ouch!” Your sentence is cut off by a sharp exclamation of pain as you pull your hand back, an unsightly red patch already forming on the area between your index and thumb.

You hadn’t even realised you had gotten that close to the stove when you turned around to speak to Mark. It’s not your first time getting burned - you had accidentally brushed your arm against the top of your oven when you were sixteen, but the pain is enough to make you wince in alarm.

Still, it’s tolerable as you rush to the sink and turn on the cold water, Mark materializing by your side within seconds.

“You okay?” he asks, now fully-awake as he grabs your wrist, turning it over gently to inspect the injury.

“Yeah.” You shake your head. “Small mistake. I’ll manage it.”

You turn off the tap, planning to get some ice, but Mark’s faster than you. “Take this. I’ll get the antiseptic cream.”

“I can handle it. You should get ready for class,” you urge, but he shakes his head, already disappearing down the hallway.

When he reappears, the small white tube is in his hands, and Mark motions for you to place your hand in his. “This might hurt a little,” he murmurs, blinking up at you through his lashes, and you nod.

“Wouldn’t have thought.”

You don’t get to make another wisecrack, however, the moment his thumb brushes over the wound. Mark’s gentle, dabbing at it as softly as possible, but your breathing still tightens.

Eventually, the sting gets a little more bearable, and you watch as the reddish patch fades to a less angry tone. “Done,” Mark says, quickly smoothing a plaster over it. “Don’t let it get near water, and don’t let it get dirty.”

“Got it, dad.” He rolls his eyes at that and you nudge his shoulder. “You really should go for class now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asks, eyes wide, and the concern that’s evident in Mark’s eyes makes your heart flutter warmly. “It’s just a burn, Mark. The next time I break my leg, I’ll make you carry me around for a month.”

He frowns. “Don’t say that. I don’t want you to break a leg.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. Look, if you’re that worried-” you stretch your hand out to him, palm facing the ceiling as you grin. “-you can kiss it better.”

The request is a teasing one, one that you expect to turn Mark the colour of a tomato - after all, he’s made shy easily, and always embarrassed at things like this.

Yet, what you don’t expect is the immediate feeling of the boy’s lips against your skin, no hesitation on his part as he places the gentlest of kisses at the corner between your thumb and your index.

You freeze. There’s no way Mark just did that.

There’s no way the same person who would shove you away when you attempted to place a kiss on his cheek, nervously sputtering, or the one who jerked away the first time you tried to hug him, is now smiling up at you in a way that could be seen as almost cocky, eyes blinking innocently up at you.

“Better?” he asks lowly, placing another kiss for emphasis in a way that makes your heart go haywire.

Your throat feels dry when you make an attempt to reply to him. “Yeah. All better,” you force out, quickly retracting your hand and shoving it into the pocket of your sweatpants. Far away from boys who think it’s a good idea to kiss it and make your mind go blank.

“Well, I’m going, then,” he says, now finally having the familiar lopsided grin that you’re used to - despite that, however, your heart lurches with fondness as you watch him grab his bag and hoodie before waving at you.

“Bye,” you exhale out, hands unconsciously finding the cool marble of the countertop in a quest for stability, until the door finally shuts.

You’re faced with an empty hallway, finally, as you attempt to process the events of the past fifteen minutes, the pain of the burn now an afterthought.

What the fuck just happened?

Mark thinks he might be going insane.

Completely, veritably insane.

Kissing your hand was an impulse decision - mainly because he wanted to get back at you for making those flirtatious remarks all the damn time without any idea of how they messed with his head.

But part of it was also because you had asked so sweetly, and Mark found himself quite incapable of refusing you. And the two spots of pink that had dusted your cheeks after were worth it.

However, it seems that he’s suffering much more than you are - what with the events of the past week. It’s as if he can’t help but notice the smallest, most insignificant things about you, that are enough to make him fall a little deeper, a little further down to where it’s harder to get out.

Like how you hum to yourself when you water the plants on the windowsill, and it’s always that one song - the one that your dad played for you as a kid, and which you added into Mark’s playlist without him knowing. Or how Mark always leaves his guitar all over the house, but you make sure to return it to its usual spot next to his bed.

Even worse, you’re always leaning your head on his shoulder, or reaching out to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. It feels good being close to you - Mark loves it, in fact, but it also makes him terribly nervous in a way that makes him stiffen awkwardly whenever you brush a little too close to him.

Now, however, Mark realises he might be the one on the losing end as he sits in his Structural Analysis lecture and wonders what it would be like to actually kiss you.

His pen is spinning in his hands - he hasn’t written down a single thing in the past thirty minutes, and Mr Lee’s already sending him suspicious glances from across the room, but Mark has mostly been a model student for the past two years, which is why he supposes his lecturer bites his tongue.

Still, he can’t keep going like this. Not when he feels like his heart is constantly about to burst out of his chest, and he has to physically stop himself from spinning you by the waist and planting his lips firmly on yours.

Of course, he’d never do that unless you gave any indication that you wanted it, but it’s hard. It’s hard to have you so close and yet completely out of Mark’s reach.

As a child, he would stand at the seashore, feet half-buried in the sand as he looked out to the glittering blue expanse of sea, and the horizon that lay beyond. There was always something about the warm orange hues and pink streaks that took his breath away, so beautiful that he wanted to swim towards it endlessly.

You’re his horizon now, a thousand gorgeous sunsets contained in a single person and enough to make Mark feel like he’s living and dying all at once.

The next week, you’re sitting on the couch scrolling on your phone when Mark’s footsteps alert you to his presence.

Right as you lift your head to see him, however, you frown. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like…you’re going to work out. Or something,” you reply, giving him a once-over. Joggers, a dry-fit shirt and track shoes, complete with a water bottle in his hands - something’s definitely up.

“That’s because I am,” he answers, an amused tilt of his lips evident as he takes in the surprise on your face.

“No way. I tried getting you to do that fitness program in freshman year, and you said you’d rather die than exercise.”

“That was because I can’t do yoga for shit. I’m going to the gym with Jeno today.”

At the mention of the other boy, you nod, slowly processing the information. It makes sense that Jeno would drag him to the gym, considering the boy has long made a habit of it with Jaemin. But still, the fact that Mark agreed makes you narrow your eyes.

“Why the sudden interest, though?” you ask, turning over to rest your head on the couch and stretch out your legs.

Mark only shrugs, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “Finally found the time. Besides, seniors get free access. If you didn’t notice, I’ve been going with Jeno since the start of the year.”

It’s currently June, which means six months. Though it’s likely that you probably couldn’t make the distinction between when he was going to the gym or lessons, because Mark perpetually lived in sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Fair enough. Have fun,” you call, tugging a pillow to hug to your body as you find a new social media site to scroll through.

However, you find your eyes drifting to Mark as he fills his bottle at the sink, carefully scrutinising your best friend for any evident changes.

You suppose his shoulders have broadened considerably since freshman year, jawline a little more defined than the round-cheeked boy you first met. Nothing out of the ordinary - plenty of the same changes had happened to the other boys, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made changes to your own appearance over the many years.

However, Mark’s usually dressed in the baggiest of sweaters and hoodies, only changing into a fitted shirt today due to the warm summer weather, and your cheeks redden when you find your eyes drifting to the way the muscles in his back stretch when he reaches for something on the upper shelf, a faint line appearing on his forearms as he unscrews the cap and adds his vitamins inside.

He looks good. Better than he should. You don’t even realize you’re shamelessly ogling your best friend until he looks up at you, eyes directly meeting yours in a way that makes you jump.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and you nod slowly, forcing your eyes away from anything but the way his collarbones peek out from beneath his shirt.

This is Mark. Your roommate, who you most definitely shouldn’t stare at in a borderline-creepy way. no matter how attractive he may seem.

Thankfully, you regain your senses quickly enough, darting your head back down until it’s half-veiled by the pillow. “Get a grip, Y/N,” you mutter to yourself.

“Well, I’m gonna go,” Mark calls, and you physically stop yourself from looking up, instead choosing to extend your arm upwards to wave.

“Bye! Go!” you say with no little urgency, sensing Mark’s palpable confusion from your bizarre confusion a few metres away.

Nevertheless, he grabs his things, the door eventually closing shut.

It’s halfway through his last set that Jeno appears above Mark, a bottle of ice-cold water in his hands.

“Thanks,” he says as he sits up from the bench press, quickly taking a large gulp. “What are you doing after this?”

“Giselle asked me to grab dinner with her.”

At his words, Mark grins, nudging Jeno’s knee. “Do the both of you have something going on?”

Jeno only huffs, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “We’re just friends. Don’t overthink it. You and Y/N, on the other hand…”

The mention of your name is enough to make Mark cough awkwardly, gaze darting away. And while Jeno doesn’t say anything, it’s Jaemin who’s perceptive as ever, a teasing smile on his face as he meets Mark’s nervous gaze.

“Out with it. What’s up with the both of you?” he asks curiously.

“Um,” Mark coughs, swiping off the beads of sweat that seem to have mysteriously materialized at his temples. “Nothing.”

It’s as honest of a reply that he can give, because there really isn’t much for Mark to say. While Mark freaks out inside each time you say something, life seems to be going on normally for you.

Jeno hums. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Frustration bubbles up in Mark at those words, though it’s not directed at Jaemin or Jeno, but instead at himself.

“I mean, I like her-”

“I knew it,” Jaemin declares, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Mark leans back, chuckling softly. “Just realised it myself a few days ago, honestly.”

It wasn’t as if Mark hadn’t had a crush on anyone before - rather, it was that being with you felt slightly different from the rest. The butterflies aside, there was something else that tugged at the pit of his stomach each time he thought about you. It was akin to the split-second adrenaline he felt on top of rollercoasters, just before it came tumbling straight down.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of that. Mark thought a better word to describe his affection for you was yearning, rather than just a simple like. Like didn’t seem to quite explain how being in your presence never quite tired him out, how you were the one person that Mark didn’t need a social battery for. He was simply so used to you at this point, that having you around felt natural, felt right.

“He’s definitely in love. Look at him,” Jaemin whispers to his dormmate, just out of Mark’s earshot. Jeno’s eyes only crinkle slightly, as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter if he won’t do anything about it.”

The first time someone called Donghyuck a himbo was sophomore year.

He had sat next to Shin Ryujin, hungover from the night before, and it took him a full fifteen minutes to realise that he did indeed have an assignment due that day, one which his professor was currently collecting.

Naturally, he did what any desperate student would do - he turned to Ryujin and asked very nicely if he could borrow her work, to which she had only ignored him and turned back to her own laptop.

“It’s a creative assignment. Mrs Park’s not going to scroll through two identical assignments without busting your ass.”

“I could change some of the grammar,” Donghyuck offers helpfully, but the glare that she flashes him makes him shrink back.

“Just ask her for an extension.”

“I’m scared.”

“You’re already known as the campus himbo. What do you have to be scared of?”

“A himbo?” Donghyuck tilts his head. He hasn’t heard anyone describe him as a himbo yet, though he’s received things like idiot, annoying asshole, dumbass motherfu- most of them from Mark, but he doesn’t quite mention that to Shin Ryujin.

“It means you’re pretty to look at, but you’ve got nothing inside your head.”

Donghyuck grins. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect, and Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Even if you were pretty, your personality ruins it.”

“Hey!”

“I’m right, Donghyuck. You’re a daily reminder to me why I’m better off liking women,” she shoots, and he feels genuinely wounded at that.

“You just like women because you think Yeji’s pretty-” Donghyuck’s voice is muffled by Ryujin’s hand over his mouth, her gaze wide with alarm.

“She’s right there, Donghyuck. Mouth shut, or I’ll kill you,” she whispers harshly, eyes darting nervously to the girl she’s had a not-so-secret crush on for the longest time, before turning back to Donghyuck, who nods obediently.

“You should just tell her,” he advises, and Ryujin purses her lips, before shaking her head. “No. For one, I’m not sure if she likes women at all, and two - even if she did, I might not be her type.”

“Well, you can try.”

“And get rejected? No thanks,” she replies, closing the tabs on her laptop. “Besides, you shouldn’t been giving me advice. You would barely know if someone liked you back.”

Donghyuck supposes Ryujin was right then - he’s quite oblivious to cues, and God knows the number of girls that have confessed to him while he blinked at them cluelessly. It’s not his fault that he’s on the affectionate side, and Donghyuck is affectionate with everyone.

But now, this is different. This doesn’t involve him, and Donghyuck would like to think that he’s at least quite perceptive to a shift in two of his closest friends.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out why exactly Mark seems so skittish in your presence, or why you seem so tightly wound-up, like a spring about to snap.

The both of you have the largest, most embarrassing crushes on each other, and are somehow simultaneously oblivious to it.

And so, like every other normal, rational person, Donghyuck invites everyone except you and Mark to lunch to discuss his findings.

“What the fuck?” Renjun’s the first one to say something, staring at Donghyuck as if he’s grown a second head.

“Look, just trust me on this-”

“Are you sure about this?” Jaemin asks, taking a large sip of his drink, and Donghyuck nods earnestly, a serious expression on his face. “A hundred percent.”

“To be fair to him, we did all think they were going to date in the first year. I guess it’s finally happening.”

“Men and women can have platonic relationships, you know. Just because you have never enjoyed female friendship in your life doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Ryujin points out to Jeno, who rolls his eyes.

“You thought they were dating too, Shin.”

“Fine,” she acquiesces, finally turning to Donghyuck and staring him down in a way that makes the male have to consciously bite back a shiver. “What do you plan to do about it?”

“That’s why I called you guys here.”

“You want us to help you figure out how to get your two best friends together?”

“They’re your friends too!”

“I say we lock them in a room until they kiss,” Chenle says, and like clockwork, Jisung turns to him, a look of horror on his face. “You can’t do that to people!”

But Chenle’s not looking at his best friend - no, he’s looking at Donghyuck, a silent challenge in his gaze.

It’s only then that Donghyuck sits up, posture changing enough to draw the eyes of everyone at the table - Karina, Yeji, Ryujin, Jeno, Chenle, Jisung, Jaemin and Renjun.

“You know what?” he says, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of his lips. “I don’t think that’s a bad idea.”

You’re halfway through your work when you hear a few rapid knocks at the door.

“Coming!” you shout, frowning - Mark’s out late tonight.

Until you look through the peephole, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jaemin’s face. “Oh, hey,” you say as you open the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I brought them, though.” He points his arm, and you turn, eyes widening.

“He helped with directions,” Donghyuck explains, already shrugging off his shoes and letting himself into your apartment.

“What- why’s everyone here today?” You naturally move to the side as all eight of them slowly amble in, completely bewildered.

“Impromptu party. Jeno’s boss gave him some free pizza delivery vouchers,” Yeji explains, smiling sweetly at you, and despite the suddenness of it, you can’t quite say no - you do miss having them around, and you can probably catch up on your work over the weekend.

“Okay. Mark won’t be back till nine, though.” At your words, there seems to be a general sense of amusement rising from everyone else, which is only enough to confuse you further.

However, you’re grateful for their appearance. You don’t think you could last another movie night with Mark without doing something extremely, extremely stupid.

At eight, Mark reaches his front door, only for it to be opened before he can even reach for his keys.

And instead of you, there’s Jisung, who only waves. “Hi, hyung.”

“What are you doing here?” Mark asks, until he hears the sound of commotion inside - there’s music playing, and Donghyuck trying to explain something loudly before your laughter cuts through.

“Jeno bought all of us pizza. You should be hungry,” Jisung says, smiling, and Mark only follows the younger boy inside, greeted by the sight of everyone else scattered across the living room floor.

“Mark!” Jaemin shouts excitedly, and he realises the boy is already half-drunk as he motions to the multiple pizza boxes. “Take as much as you want. Can’t finish.”

And as Mark grabs the pizza and makes his way over to where you’re seated by the couch, you smile up at him in a way that makes it impossible for him to grin back. “You’re here,” you say softly, cheeks already slightly reddened by the alcohol.

He laughs slightly. “Are you drunk already?”

You shake your head. “I only drank a little.” You pinch your fingers together for emphasis.

“Okay. Go easy on it,” he says, and you pout slightly. “Got it.”

“Since Mark’s here already, we should all play a game,” Chenle suggests, and Mark looks up, eyes widening when he sees everyone nod. “Suddenly?”

“How about truth or dare?” Ryujin asks.

“No, that’s too boring. Wait, Mark, come here,” Donghyuck says from the opposite side of the room, pushing Jisung slightly to make space for him in the middle, but Mark shakes his head.

“I’m okay here.” Besides, he wants to make sure you don’t drink as much.

“Just come here. Yeji has something she needs to tell Y/N.” At that, Mark turns to the black-haired girl, a suspicious glance in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, totally,” she says, grinning back, and motions for Mark to move. “Girls only, Mark. I know you’re Y/N’s best friend, but some exceptions can’t be made.”

Everyone’s waiting, which means Mark eventually rises from where he’s standing. “Okay. Make sure she doesn’t drink too much, okay?” he asks, and she nods.

When Mark’s finally cross-legged on the floor, Donghyuck clasps his hands together, a grin on his face. “Let’s do seven minutes in heaven. Jeno, spin that bottle.”

Mark turns to his best friend, nudging him. “What are we, in high school?”

“We’re not, which is why I wanna play this. Also, everyone here at least knows each other. so it’s more fun.”

There’s silence in the room as the soju bottle spins in slow rounds, before it finally drifts to a stop - one that has Donghyuck giggling and Ryujin’s cheeks reddening.

“Ryujin and Yeji. First room on the right, now,” he instructs, and the two girls rise, disappearing down the hallway and already lost in their own conversation.

“Next one. I wanna spin this,” Chenle says, exchanging an odd, knowing sort of look with Hyuck, who only motions for him to go ahead.

Mark’s honestly only half-focused on the game, more worried about he’s going to clean up later and whether any of them will be staying over. Eventually, however, his gaze drifts to the floor, watching as the bottle comes to a perfect stop.

Facing you directly.

Yeji’s gone and you’re the only one sitting on the right side of the couch, which makes you the obvious choice.

The other side is a little more ambiguous, however. It’s between him and Hyuck, who looks a little too excited. “Well, so who’s going to go with me?” you ask, and everyone else seems to be unsure of what to say.

“I mean, I don’t mind,” Donghyuck says teasingly, winking at you in a way that makes Mark stiffen.

There’s no way Hyuck likes you, right? That all this was just some sort of grand, elaborated scheme to get closer to you-

You fell for her too, idiot, his mind immediately rattles off, and it’s enough for Mark to stand up, immediately clearing his throat. “I’ll go. The empty room left is mine anyways.”

He misses the way his best friend smiles triumphantly at Chenle, immediately moving closer to you as you stand up. “Seven minutes, right?” you ask, and Hyuck nods. “No more, no less.”

Mark’s not sure why he’s strangely nervous as he follows you into the room, considering he’s pretty sure that nothing will happen anyways. After all, the both of you practically live together, and he’s no stranger to spending time alone with you.

Though, in the wake of his new feelings, even simple interactions feel difficult.

And as you lie down on the side of his bed, legs dangling off the edge, Mark regrets his decision just a little. Until you lift your head up.

“Why are you standing there? Come here.” You pat the empty space next to you, and as if pulled by some mysterious force, he gravitates towards you, hesitantly sitting next to your knees and slowly lying down next to you.

“I wonder what Hyuck would say if he found us like this,” you say, and despite himself, Mark laughs. “We would get scolded.”

“He’d probably ask us to do something, at least.”

Mark’s cheeks redden as he wonders what exactly you mean by something, and he’s not sure if your straightforwardness is partly due to the alcohol. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Kiss, probably.”

He sucks in a breath, turning to you. But your profile remains sideways, eyes fixed on the ceiling. And he’s not sure where he finds the words, but Mark’s voice is strained the next time he speaks, tight with desire and fear.

“Do you- do you want to?”

You turn to him, pretty irises deep enough for Mark to willingly, gladly drown in.

God, you’re gorgeous. He’s so painfully in love with you that it almost hurts to breathe, little pinpricks of affection stabbing at what space remaining in his heart that’s still left untaken by you.

“I wouldn’t mind, I think,” you murmur, blinking sleepily at him as you shuffle a little bit closer, until your head’s resting against his chest, and Mark wonders if you can hear his heartbeat going faster than it ever has.

You wouldn’t mind kissing him. It’s not a direct expression of want, but if you’re amenable to the idea, that’s already more than he could ever expect.

You’re so close, and you smell so good, like that vanilla and cinnamon shampoo that you always use, and if he just tilted your head a little higher - he would have everything that he’s dreaming of.

But you’re drunk, and he’s not entirely sober either, which means bad decisions are likely to be made. When Mark kisses you, he wants it to be when both of you are fully awake, so he can remember every single moment of it.

And the feeling of you resting against him, eyes closed and breathing even, isn’t so bad either - it’s sweet, providing him with the knowledge that you feel safe enough to be your most vulnerable around him, because Mark just wants to protect you and love you in all the ways that he can. If you’ll let him.

And that’s how Donghyuck finds him when he cracks open the bedroom door, Mark immediately bringing a finger to his lips to keep his volume down.

“Um, I’ll tell everyone to clean up and leave. You can stay with Y/N,” Hyuck murmurs, and Mark’s grateful for the sensibility that his best friend does have, after all.

It’s about twenty minutes later that he finally hears the front door swing shut, and the house finally falls into some much-needed silence.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly, hoping to wake you up without startling you. “Darling, you’ll be uncomfortable if you sleep like this.”

He’s not sure where the pet name slips out from, but it comes out surprisingly easily. And while Mark would be perfectly happy to stay in this position, it’s likely going to give you a poor neck tomorrow.

Thankfully, you seem to hear him, mumbling something incoherent as you slowly sit up, still drowsy as he leads you to the bed. You find the pillow quickly, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when you seem to sink back into your slumber.

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbles tenderly, a hand brushing over your forehead.

And when he finally lies down on the other side, blanket thrown over the both of you, Mark wills sleep to find him quickly. There’s too much on his mind tonight.

At some point, however, you shift, turning your body to face him and making his breathing hitch.

You’re always so damn close.

And then you say something again under your breath, soft enough for Mark to have to lean closer until your lips are right by his ear.

“Y/N? Do you need something?” It’s obvious you’re still asleep, maybe stuck in a dream of sorts as you furrow your eyebrows.

When you speak next, however, it’s loud enough for Mark to hear every syllable.

“You don’t want to kiss me,” you breathe out, an expression of distress making its way onto your features. “Why not?” Your lips soften into a pout that makes his heart seize, and Mark’s eyes widen.

Are you talking about him? From earlier?

He’s frozen now, fingers ghosting over your waist as he wonders how to react.

Eventually, Mark allows himself to press a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing out the slight furrow there as he brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The bed, even the entire room, suddenly feels a little too small, and a little too warm as Mark keeps looking at you, wondering exactly what this means for him, you, and your friendship.

If everything he’s ever wanted is a mistake, and whether you’d make it with him. Because he doesn’t think any mistake should feel this right.

When you wake up the next morning, you can’t exactly distinguish between what was part of your dream, and what was actually a hazy recollection.

And neither is Mark present to confirm your doubts. It’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth - well, probably just the campus.

Still, when you see an empty bed, the sheets on the side flat and crinkled, there’s a yearning in your heart that you can’t quite place. You swing your feet over the edge, your head still vaguely throbbing from the alcohol as you try to distinguish reality from your own eager imagination.

You like Mark. That much is easy enough to figure out, if the way you clung to him last night was any indication. You faintly remember him persuading you to go to bed, and tugging a sweater over your shirt.

And then you had turned over - heart racing in your chest as you voluntarily moved closer to him, seeking his warmth and relaxing when he didn’t pull away.

His bed smelled a lot like him, all fresh cotton and fabric softener. A familiar scent that you had grown used to over the years, from stealing his jackets to hugging him whenever he pulled you close, your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

You’re conflicted as you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, fingers curling into the material of the sweater as if it’ll make up for the owner’s absence.

Maybe he liked you. Maybe he didn’t. You would get some answers once he came back, at least.

Unfortunately, you’re in the middle of brushing your teeth when you hear the front door unlock, and you suppose the universe has other plans for you as you shuffle out into the living room.

And as if you still needed the reminder, your pulse speeds up at the sight of Mark in his hoodie and black glasses, plates already in his hands as he places them on the table. “Hey, um, I got breakfast. Figured you’d be hungry,” he explains.

You’re just staring at him, lingering in the hallway long enough for Mark to scratch the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, if you don’t feel like eating-”

“I do.” It comes out panicked as you rush over, taking the cutlery from him and the first pastry you see. “Thanks, Mark.”

“No problem,” he says, still smiling at you as you take your first bite, occasionally meeting his eyes before your gaze darts away again.

God, this is awkward. You haven’t been this awkward with him since- well, ever. Even eighteen-year-old you had no problem making conversation with him, but now you’re completely silent as the both of you share a meal.

You’re in the middle of counting the number of cross-stitches in the tablecloth when he finally speaks.

“How’s your head feeling?”

“It’s okay.”

“Donghyuck and the others left pretty early yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“They cleaned up, though.”

“That’s good.”

You can almost sense the frustration radiating off Mark at your replies, but you’re not sure what else to say to him.

Or more that you’re scared of what will come out if you do let yourself speak.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, noticeably more serious now, and you gulp.

“Mark.”

“Can we talk about yesterday?” he asks, gently, and you lift your head sharply, fork frozen in midair.

“What- what happened yesterday?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I-” you cut yourself off halfway, cheeks turning scarlet as you duck your head down to look at your own lap.

It’s as much of a guilty admission that he needs, even as you attempt to get yourself out of the situation by standing up and pushing your chair behind you. “I’m done with my breakfast. I’ll go get ready.”

“You’re going out?”

“I told Ryujin that I would meet her for lunch,” you lie, though you wince the moment it leaves your mouth.

For one, it’s ten in the morning, and Ryujin’s probably just as hungover as you.

You barely put your plate down in the sink before you hear Mark get up as well, and you turn your head away, cursing silently under your breath. It’s times like this when you wish your apartment was bigger, that Mark couldn’t be capable of finding you in less than two minutes.

He doesn’t say anything, almost hovering as he clears his plate away too, and places the rest of the pastries in the fridge.

You can’t help but notice that they’re all your favourites, the kind of snacks that you always tell him you crave but never have conveniently at home.

The moment you’re done washing the dishes, however, you quickly dry your hands, making a beeline out of the kitchen area. If you just manage to get to your room, you’ll at least be able to avoid him for a while longer.

And for a few moments, you think that Mark will let you go and leave the events of last night aside for now.

In fact, you almost make it past him and the kitchen island, before he grabs onto your wrist and yanks you back.

“What-” You tilt your head up sharply in shock, freezing when you realize exactly how close the both of you are. The tip of his nose is barely centimetres away from yours, and your lack of balance has you almost leaning fully into him, the weight of your body pressed up against his.

You’re still reeling from it as you blink up at him, finding a way to get your senses back around you, even as your brain fills with empty thoughts about how he looks good up close like this, or how his lashes frame his features perfectly.

It’s a dangerous situation. One that you need to get out of immediately.

“Mark-” you start, his name coming out breathy and stilted, but the boy remains silent, lips set into a firm line as he continues looking at you, or past you, as if he's thinking of something else entirely. “Let me go?”

You move your wrist for emphasis, but in response, his grip only tightens.

“No,” he murmurs, in a way that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“But-”

You’re cut off soon enough when he moves even closer, the distance between the both of you disappearing.

Because instead of releasing your hand, Mark only wraps his other arm around your waist to yank you closer before he plants his lips firmly on yours.

And then he’s kissing you.

Mark Lee, your best friend and roommate of four years, is kissing you in your shared apartment at ten in the morning, and you can’t help but feel like this is how it’s always meant to have been.

And as you feel yourself melting into his hold, that same scent of fresh cotton enveloping you, he pulls away. Kissing shouldn’t feel this good, but with him, you think the seconds could easily elapse into hours.

You’re almost tempted to pull him by the collar back to you, but something in his eyes curbs that impulse of yours.

His hand is still resting on your waist, ghosting over the patch of bare skin between your sweatpants and top in a way that makes you shiver.

“You asked me why I didn’t want to kiss you yesterday,” he breathes out. “Does this make up for it?”

So that wasn’t a dream, at least.

You scramble to find a way to reply, still a little too distracted by the way his lips are the perfect shade of pink, the phantom feeling of them quickly fading from your memory. “I- I think so.”

He smiles at that. “You think?”

“I could do with a refresher.” The sudden confidence that enters your voice is just as surprising to you as it is to Mark himself, but he recovers faster. The hand that was previously around your wrist snakes its way up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “Yeah?”

You nod, deciding that you’re already too far gone- you might as well get something out of it.

Like the feeling of Mark’s lips against yours when he kisses you again, smiling against you in a way that makes your heart expand in the most delightful way.

When he nips at your bottom lip playfully, you let out a soft giggle, ducking your head away from his as he moves towards your cheek, and then your neck, leaving a trail of feather-soft kisses in his wake.

“That feels nice,” you sigh out, feeling him smirk against where he’s nestled at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “Just nice?”

“Very nice. Happy now?” You tap his shoulders to get him to raise his head, Mark’s hands instinctively finding your waist.

He hums. “I suppose. What does this make us?”

And as much as he tries to pass it off nonchalantly, you hear the way his voice tapers off into doubt.

That he’s had the same fear as you for a while now, but also the exact same dream.

“Do you like me?” you ask, and Mark swipes his tongue over his lips, chuckling softly. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too.” You fiddle with the drawstrings of his hoodie as Mark’s eyes widen. To his credit, he looks surprised, but it only makes you laugh. “You seriously think I would kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure-” his words halt when you tiptoe to press a kiss on his cheek.

“I like you, Mark Lee. Even if you can’t cook eggs and always mess up my laundry. And I know you’re already my best friend and roommate, but will you be willing to take up another title now?”

“What title?’ he asks, blinking confusedly at you, and you only grin. “My boyfriend,” you whisper into his ear, pulling back to see that familiar shade of red making its way onto his cheeks.

Eventually, he nods. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.”

But you only frown. “You took so long to reply. I’m starting to think you don’t want it anymore.”

Mark only rolls his eyes, arms tightening their hug around your waist.

“Too bad. There’s no getting rid of me now.”

Funnily enough, the hardest part of being in a relationship with Mark was figuring out how to tell everyone else without being made the subject of their endless teasing for the next foreseeable few months.

Especially Donghyuck. Both you and Mark agreed that the chestnut-haired boy would be the last to find out.

Everything else was the same. The both of you always ate together, Mark often picking you up after lessons with a take-out bag already in his hands.

Except that he was now yours to kiss and hold, which was a new privilege you gladly took advantage of, especially on occasions like this.

“I say we let them find out on their own. It’s worse if we tell them directly, like it’s some sort of big announcement,” you say, fingers absentmindedly carding their way through Mark’s hair as he hugs you close to him. You’re leaning against the couch, legs thrown over his as you rest on his lap sideways.

He only raises a bemused eyebrow. “You don’t think our relationship is a big thing?”

“We both know that’s not what I mean,” you mutter, swatting his shoulder. “I just think they’ve known us as best friends for so long, that it’ll be weird to just suddenly drop this out of nowhere.”

“I get it. We can tell them whenever you want.”

The current position you’re in is more than comfortable, and you find yourself growing drowsy as he peppers kisses along your cheek and your shoulder.

“But, Y/N-” he starts, and despite your sudden onset of drowsiness, you make a little noise of assent. it’s enough for Mark to hug you tighter to him, before continuing.

“You know you’re still my best friend no matter what, right? This-” he gestures to the both of you, smiling gently, “doesn’t change anything.”

His words hit you harder than you want to let on, and you try not to make your emotions too plain your face as you lean against his shoulder, feeling his heart beat gently against his chest.

However, your words still come out slightly choked. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m quite lucky, don’t you think? A best friend and a girlfriend in the same person.”

“Donghyuck won’t be happy to hear that,” you mutter, and you feel the vibrations of Mark’s chest as he laughs, a loud one that you know is genuine. The very sound itself is enough to make you smile.

“Thank God he’s not here, then.”

“I am, actually.”

The voice that materializes from the hallway is enough to make you jump and almost fall off Mark’s lap, right as he catches you. You scramble to get off his lap, hands moving to your lap as Donghyuck walks into the living room, arms crossed.

“How the fuck did you get in?” you ask, and Donghyuck lifts his hand up, a glint of metal twirled in his fingers. “Spare key. Mark showed me once when he was drunk off his ass.”

“And you didn’t knock?”

“I did. Many times, actually. You two lovebirds just tuned it all out. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“For one, this is a private apartment.”

“I mean, if the both of you were having sex, I’d probably hear it first and show myself out,” he shoots back nonchalantly, and your eyes widen at the same time that Mark lets out an embarrassed cough, which only makes Donghyuck let out a surprised laugh.

“Haven’t gotten there yet, huh?” He’s smirking now, looking at the both of you beneath his eyelashes in a way that makes you want to throttle him.

“Let’s- let’s talk about something else,” you mutter, and Donghyuck shrugs. “Sure. I came here to tell you guys that we’ve settled everything for the winter break trip. We leave in four days, once semester ends.”

“You came all the way here just for that?” you ask suspiciously, and the boy smiles as if he’s been caught.

“Um, I haven’t had lunch. Also, I don’t have any beach shorts, and Mark has a few he can lend.”

You nod, before narrowing your eyes. “You’re not going to tell the rest, right?”

“Not yet. But only because I want to see their reactions when I do,” Donghyuck replies, and you huff under your breath. It’s good enough for now.

“Then sit down. And help me prep the ingredients for lunch.” At your words, Donghyuck immediately straightens into a mock salute. “Got it.”

The gesture makes you laugh slightly as you go to the fridge, setting out everything on the counter. But Donghyuck seems to be deep in thought, almost orbiting around you.

After a while, however, he eventually opens his mouth, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

“…So you guys really haven’t fucked?”

“Shut it, Donghyuck.”

“I didn’t even mean to kiss him!” Yeji shouts, sitting up in her chair to defend herself. “The alcohol made him seem a lot more good-looking than he actually was.”

Karina only laughs behind her cup. “You just have shit taste in men.”

“Which is why I have a girlfriend now,” she says, grinning widely as she grabs Ryujin’s hand. The latter only rolls her eyes.

The eleven of you are gathered around a campfire, blankets bundled over your laps as you take turns dangling marshmallows over the fire. You can’t even remember whose idea it was to come down to the coast to escape winter for a few weeks, but as the sea breeze blows through your hair, you’re grateful for it.

“This is nice,” Chenle says, resting his feet on a stool as he leans back, sunglasses over his eyes.

“Says the one who refused to leave the house at first,” Donghyuck snides, earning an elbow in the side.

“Can the both of you just stop bickering for one second?” Jaemin says from across the circle, exasperated. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Well, if you want to hear about more idiots that Yeji has kissed while drunk-” Karina’s offer is cut off by the aforementioned girl kicking her in the shin, cheeks bright with mortification.

“I’m one of those idiots, unfortunately,” Ryujin shoots back, earning huffs of amusement from everyone as she defends her girlfriend.

“Speaking of that…” Karina trails off, gaze drifting to you and Mark in a way that makes you shift nervously, eyes darting away from hers as you laugh nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She leans back, a sly glint in her eyes as she scrutinizes every minute shift of your features. “You were the second couple that night to go in. Did anything happen?”

Everyone else is paying attention now, even as they try to hide it.

Your eyes go to Donghyuck for a second, who only has a shit-eating grin on his face. From his expression, you can tell the man is practically jumping out of his seat at the prospect of being the one to reveal your newly-formed relationship with Mark.

Which means you have to beat him first.

“Yeah. We’re dating now,” you mutter, hiding your grin with a sip of your hot chocolate as the entire group turns silent. Even Mark looks at you, surprised, but his face quickly transforms into one of smug happiness as he grabs your hand, fingers interlacing with yours. “We are,” he confirms, and Karina’s eyes widen beyond what you thought possible.

“Whoa. Whoa. Hold on- when did this happen?”

“The morning after,” you supplicate, and she rests her forehead on her hands as she blinks.

“Good to know the both of you had it in you,” Chenle says, smiling at you in a way that’s equal parts teasing and sweet. “By the way, you should probably give credit to Hyuck. He was the first to notice, you know.”

“Really?”

“Wasn’t difficult when the both of you were staring at each other like lovestruck idiots,” he says, and you roll your eyes. You suppose you owe the man a word of thanks, eventually. Just not right now.

“I’m happy for you guys.” Jaemin, the sweetest of your group, smiles widely at the both of you, and Mark pats him on the back in a sign of affection. “Really. It was a long time coming.”

“I guess it was, huh?” Mark says, turning towards you with a contemplative sort of joy on his features. Despite the dim lighting, it’s almost as if there’s stars in his eyes as he looks at you, hand still tightly holding on to yours.

“God, couples make me sick,” Donghyuck mutters, earning a glare from you and Yeji. “You can leave, then,” you shoot back, pressing a kiss to Mark’s cheek in a sign of defiance.

“You bet I will-”

“Speaking of that,” Jaemin, always the mediator, cuts Donghyuck off. “It’s late. We should probably head back to the cabins.”

“Sounds good to me,” Karina says, standing up and folding her blanket over her chair. “God, it’s cold.”

“You cold?” Mark asks, and you shake your head, only zipping up your jacket as all of you make the slow trek back to your cabins at the end of the beach. Thanks to the off-season, you and Mark are sharing one, while Yeji, Ryujin and Karina take the larger house, with the other villas split between the six guys.

Eventually, you reach the doorstep of your cabin, waving farewell to the rest as they shrug off their shoes and unlock the doors. “Goodnight!” Yeji shouts, and you grin widely as you wave at her, the wind whipping your hair around your face.

Thankfully, the inside of the cabin offers a respite from the cold, and you find yourself quickly moving towards the woollen blanket on the couch. “Tired?” Mark asks, leaning against the armrest to face you directly, and you shake your head, eyes still bright. “Not at all. I think being on holiday keeps me awake.”

“Wanna watch a movie, then?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, stretching your arms out to pull him towards you.

“Come here,” you urge, making him stretch out his legs on the couch before you lie against him, legs tangled with his and back comfortably resting against his chest.

“Someone’s clingy today,” he points out, bemused.

“I haven’t gotten to be with you alone since we left for the trip yesterday. Let a girl have what she wants.”

At your words, he nods, lips curving up as his arms settle around your waist, a kiss pressed to your hairline. “I can do that for my girl.”

“My girl?” you ask, and he nods. “You’ve always been my girl. Even if you didn’t know it then.”

“I guess I like it. You can keep calling me that,” you reply, and he nips at your ear. “You looked good tonight, by the way,” you tell him, turning around momentarily to face him.

He’s wearing a fleece jacket over one of his graphic tees, somehow still choosing to wear ripped jeans despite the cold weather.

“I would say that back to you, but I’m guessing you already know,” he says, and you duck your head down, giggling softly.

“I suppose you also know that I love you. In case that wasn’t obvious enough,” he adds after a while, as if not quite sure what you’ll make of it. But you’re quick to nod.

“I love you too, Mark Lee. You’re everything to me.”

You’ve never meant anything more, and he seems to be a little starstruck as he looks at you, an utter look of adoration in his eyes. “How did I get so damn lucky?” he asks softly, and it’s enough to knock the breath out of your chest as your heart carves out even more space for him.

It’s only when Mark tilts your chin up that you go silent, eyes widening slightly. He’s staring directly at you, until he isn’t.

Because his gaze drops down to your lips, his thumb coming up to brush the corner in a way that makes you freeze.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, and the question is so sweet, so earnest, that it makes you smile.

“You never have to ask,” you reply, and your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate before he’s pulling you mouth towards his and closing whatever little distance there is left.

Kissing Mark feels like sinking into a soft pillow after a long day, something that’s all too easy for you to melt into as you thread your fingers through the black strands at the nape of his neck. It’s surprisingly easy to do, the both of you moving naturally as if you’ve been doing this forever.

And when you find your kisses travelling down towards his neck, you take note of each soft exhale that he lets out, grip occasionally tightening around your waist.

Your hands are travelling too, going past his neck to his arms, and then ghosting down his sides, before you eventually find yourself preferring to fidget with the torn threads and rips in his jeans, occasionally tracing little shapes over the exposed skin of his thigh.

“You- you really should stop doing that,” he forces out after a while, the tension in his voice making you smile.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking up for a second to take in the conflict evident in his features. “N-no. But it feels good.”

His tone is almost whiny, the little note of desperation in it making pleasurable heat curl in your stomach. “That was the goal, I think,” you shoot back sarcastically, and he laughs darkly, toying with the zipper at the side of your skirt.

You see the change as it happens, his eyes dimming just imperceptibly as something in it changes, a newfound determination in him as he presses one last bruising kiss to your lips.

“Don’t get snarky with me now. We still have the entire night, you know,” he reminds, and you find yourself quickly swelling with an unfamiliar sort of excitement, tinted with an almost delectable sort of fear as he pulls you even closer, fingertip tracing down the side of your face.

“And we have this entire place to ourselves, so what are you planning?” you ask, arching an eyebrow curiously, which causes Mark to smile teasingly. This side of him is so unfamiliar to you, and yet you love every moment of it as your pulse races, blood and adrenaline rushing through your veins in equal measure.

“You’ll find out soon enough, baby.”

This time, when he guides your mouth to his, you gladly let him steal your oxygen.

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[nightpoemz]

★☆*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡. . .｡.:*･' ૮ .◜◡◝ა '･*:.｡. . .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆★

bsf!jisung when everyone thinks that you're dating

an: song inspo: cody jon - m2m (*´∀`)♪

masterlist

[hyuckswoman]

30. bestie

previous chapter masterlist

notes: maybe i shouldn’t discuss it but i have so many thoughts on the whole kiss of life situation and was wondering what’s your guy’s take on it?

ALSO short chapter bc im sorry for what’s about to come..

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