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smoke 𝓡𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

pairing: haechan, donghyuck x afab!reader. genre: an attempt of humor, smut (it happens but not the main plot). content: a lot of movie references, reader is a bit goofy, college au, coming of age, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, bestfriend!haechan, stoner!haechan, badboy!hyuck, racer!hyuck. use of condoms, drug consumption, alcohol consumption, use of vibrator, mention of virginity, haechan is a jealous womanizer, donghyuck is actually a sweetheart, high sex, oral sex, pussy drunk hae, multiple orgasms, fingering. featuring: johnny, 7dream.wc: 29k an: couldn't kill my darlings so bear w me. the world building is a bit slow but it'll catch up the pace pretty quickly!! the writing and prose is a bit different from what i'm used to. tagging: @yesohhsehun —lmk any misspelling, ty playing: alive empire of the sun ; ribs lorde ; tongue tied grouplove ; can i call you tonight? dayglow ; backburner niki ; i could be the one avicii ; why'd you only call me when you're high? arctic monkeys ; bad omens 5sos ; i wanna be yours arctic monkeys ; little freak harry styles ; heroes david bowie. description: haechan and yn have known each other since they were five years old, and have been inseparable ever since. they come as a pair and do everything together; maybe they're destined to get married and all that, maybe that's why they both suck on dates. after a series of romantic disasters, they both conclude that maybe they belong to each other, but a lot of obstacles stand in the way of finding out, and one of them is haechan's twin brother: lee donghyuck.

the apartment smelled like a cigarettes after sex song.

living across four good looking guys seems like the dream of any first-year college student from jeju island and the fanciful idea that one of them would fall in love with her, if it weren't for the fact that what you've collected from actually being the girl next door comes down to their incredible abilities to cajole girls and non-commitment treaty; it seemed that romanticism is dead for them, just like the smell that emanates as if there were a deceased animal in their dorms.

the idea of that village girl soon died too.

you dislike it, of course. they probably wouldn't get away with everything they do if they were a little less good-looking. they would have to be expected to get the odds on their favor, like lucky charms; if you rub their dicks you get three wishes…, or something like that.

so when you go to their dorms moved my desire, three pairs of heads turn toward you while watching tv when they alert your presence. “hi, yn,” they say in unison as you head to their fridge.

the truth is that between the four of them, they don't put together a functional neuron, and they're pretty okay with you assaulting their fridge every weekday…, so you guess you're okay with it.

“don't mind me. i ran out of eggs for a omelet, i promise to do groceries tomorrow…” your words die little by little when you find everything but eggs, “uh... why are there underwear in the fridge?”

a spoiled blond boy comes jogging up to you in a bathrobe that reveals more than is necessary. jisung giggles nervously as his hands rush to close the opening of the only piece of clothes he's got a friday night, taking the garment from your hands, “those would be mine.”

“why...?” you start asking before you think of better questions, such as how could they live in this pigsty? looking at the mini football table used as a pile of dirty laundry.

“well, it's cold outside, and i don't have a dryer, of course...” his eyes widens and sparkle as an idea runs through his mind, “can i use your hair dryer? pretty please.” you stare at his hands joined in prayer, and his eyes large and bright.

“sure…” he grins and mutters a victory while you keep thinking you’re hundred percent sure he can afford a washing machine with dryer. “so you've been washing this by hand?” you’re also sure he hasn’t thought of that one yet.

“no. i wash them in the shower,” he answers, obviously.

that'd explain why he's in a bathrobe.

a smug eyebrow shoots upwards and you hold back a silly smile. “with you?” you watch him nod and your grin falter, “why don't you use the tub? that way you can wash all of them at the same time.”

he squints, “i hadn't thought about that one. yn, you're a genius.”

his skin is cold and soft and his hair tickles your cheek when he hugs you fleetingly. “honey, i meant that you don't have to bathe with them…”

jisung ignores your words as he thanks you greenly before you can even think why no one has told him that til now… then you remember a couple of similar scenarios perpetrated by his roommates, and why it makes sense they didn't.

your eyes sweep the room, noticing that something is missing. there's jisung who finds himself in a bathrobe at ten o'clock at night, mark the illicit racer who nibbles on his nails and seems on the verge of an anxious collapse. and there's jaemin the part time bartender at your favorite café, reading the newspaper.

“where's haechan?” you ask, suddenly dead curious.

jisung glances at the living room as if he barely notices that the characteristic silly boy is missing. “oh, he's not here.”

“no way, sherlock,” mark mumbles under his breath, moving to another position on the couch.

jaemin gives him a sidelong glance causing mark to shrug unapologetically, before he closes the newspaper like an old soul and answers you, “tutoring a girl from our law class.”

you see, the irony is exquisite but the word conceals another implicit meaning of which you're aware.

but more important, it leads you to realize something deep and uncertain.

“d'you mean he's…?”

“if it's anything to do it, i think she's way out of his league,” jisung compensates, putting on the underwear underneath his robe. “i don't think he'll make it to third base.”

“i don't think he'll make it to first base,” mark replies.

despite their attempts to counter that he's probably quite sunk in a girl's throat right now, you still can't believe it. pronouncing it is not so easy to digest either.

“guys, don't be mean. he's got game!” given the honey-eyed boy's antics, you very much doubted it was true. only, until now, you hadn't noticed it.

“he's with ryunjin,” mark points out.

“yeah, he's not gonna make it,” you conclude.

of course haechan is a heartthrob. you always expect to find him in some empty classroom making out with someone, or walk into his room to find him smoking a joint. he tutors girls because marijuana and alcohol haven't been able to fry the last neurons in his brain so then he can get money for weed. to even think he also does it to have an excuse to go to their apartment and get laid makes you… uneasy.

of all things, it was a fact that haechan was partly hot and partly idiotic.

“are you okay?” jisung asks you, carefully.

you remove the palm from your forehead, almost lost, “so does this means…?” three pairs of eyes look at you bathed in different emotions expectantly just as you wet your lips to pronounce, “haechan's not gay?”

just as if he had been summoned by telepathy, the fourth member of a three-room apartment appears through the front door, and consequently, all of you hold your breath in expectation.

haechan sports his dark straight hair parted in half that forms two commas on his face. his olive skin highlights his features and makes him look very, very attractive. but of course, what he has of handsome he has of asshorse.

“gay? who's gay?” haechan sweeps his eyes over your frozen faces in complete confusion until he bursts into laughter and his cheeks take on a warm color. “see? i told you not to wear those silly clothes, jaemin.”

the boy allows him to pat his shoulders while he smiles smugly. he's also sporting his best cologne and has put on one of his fluffy jackets; and until recently you now know that he's done all of that to see a girl.

jaemin stares into the void until the sunny boy moves to another place of interest: the fridge. his eyes beams as if it contains stars waiting to find something in it, then everything goes out. even his smile fades away.

mark shifts in the chair and looks at haechan staring inside, “uh, where's my pot?” his hands rummage the few things in the fridge in search of it, almost incredulous.

“i threw it away.” four pairs of eyes go to jaemin, who remains oddly calm.

“you mean you flushed it away,” jisung corrects, holding up a finger.

haechan's face freezes into an indescribable grimace and then you realize the reason behind mark's chaotic behavior: he’s in drug abstention.

“what do you mean you flushed it away?” you wonder.

“down the toilet.” haechan makes a muffled sound.

even though you're close to him, you barely manage to decipher the low and strangled noise he makes next. “come again, darling?” you ask, rubbing his back.

his lips move closer to your ear as the others watch the scene. letting out a heavy sigh, you reluctantly say, “haechan says he won't speak to you anymore. that... you shouldn't have done that... that..., that was eighty dollars worth of weed, h-how dare you, huh?” you repeat out loud on the go.

“new house policy.”

“what does that even mean?”

“no parties on weekdays. no girls...”

“GIRLS?” jisung makes a mockery of fainting.

“in plural, you're good,” mark explains, biting his nails.

“and no weed.” until that last, haechan had handled the situation calmly, though you were beginning to believe that he was in denial.

“how did you manage to flush eighty dollars worth of weed down the toilet?” you say after haechan's whispering.

“he put in on a blender,” mark explains.

haechan's eyes fill with indignation. “you make smoothies in a blender! juices! cocktails!”

“chocolate milk,” jisung adds all of a sudden.

you witness the rift forming on both sides. the palpable tension mixing with the smell of illicit substances in the apartment.

it makes you want to do something, certainly. although you couldn't deny that despite wanting the "girl from the island" to vanish, you still found this somewhat excitingly hot. you could just intervene, make them reconcile, calm the waters; you...

you just wanted eggs for your omelet.

when the silence settled after heated words were exchanged between both parts —and jisung, you announce your farewell.

“wait, you're leaving?”

suddenly, everyone is aware that you are a little overdressed just to cook some omelets a friday night…, which you're not.

“nice skirt.” jisung's eyes form two crescents as they run down your legs before haechan hits him in the back of the head, causing the blond to murmur an apology with a laugh.

“got plans?” he’s the one who asks with wonder, eyes glued to you as you nod and send him a wink you’re sure he gets it.

“the ring.”

haechan chuckles shortly, stretching the right corner of his lip up in a haughty grimace. “how do you know about the ring, bumble bee?”

“chaeyoung introduced me to it,” you say proudly.

haechan's features soften when you smile. “does she know that you sleep with stuffed animals?”

“haechan!” your mouth opens in awe, watching others pretend they haven't listened. “they're not... they are collectibles!”

he clicks his tongue, rubbing the place you hit him. “you're not meant for the ring.”

“i am so meant for the ring.”

it was customary for students to gather at one point, isolated and confined from the city to carry out certain illicit activities. illegal races, drugs, and others were common in these meetings where their whereabouts were usually said minutes before they started.

“you're too sweet,” he replies in a remark, and your jaw almost hit the floor.

well, it was partially true that the meetings bordered on the deathly side, but you come from a small island where the only dangerous thing is to get hit by a bicycle; someone forgive you for wanting to taste a little adrenaline for the sake of your soothing young soul.

the others watch you argue heavily and somewhere in between, jisung scratches his head.

“i'm pretty sure they're talking in code,” jisung refers to the others, with narrowed eyes. “maybe some jewel or jeweler.”

jaemin pats his shoulder and comes in the second you and haechan stop murmuring at hearing what the blond just said. “well, fare you well. goodbye!”

you stop jaemin from pushing you to the exit to look at jisung with amusement. “wait, they haven't taken you?”

surprising? no.

the euphoria and danger of the moment blended together like a psychedelic cocktail. the guest list was a bit narrow and confidential, in case of informants. some students skipped the challenge of going while others were totally oblivious that things like that existed.

“to the ring?” jisung tries, opening his crescent eyes.

jaemin makes a gesture behind him to stop you from revealing anything else as haechan reaches out to him, in tenderly affection.

“you're still a baby.”

“i'm twenty three, though,” he chuckles. “wait, you guys knew about the ring?” he wonders, emphasizing the name funnily.

“yeah. maybe. no, not really...” the boys say one after the other.

“then, good news!” you say next, excited.

“she'll buy us groceries tomorrow,” jisung interrupts you, smiling smugly even though he has a fortune greater than yours.

haechan's eyes gleamed with emotion, hands grabbing yours as he puts the best performance in his galore “would you buy us some food?”

“of course, yeah. i meant another good news,” you correct, dancing your eyebrows to jisung. “the ring, tonight. there will be a lot of fun,” you mention, slowly, eyes darting to haechan in confidentiality; then he looks at you, totally oblivious.

“i'm not in the mood tonight, jaemin threw away my medicinal herbs.”

jaemin rolls his eyes, “yeah, me and jisung pass too.”

“do we?” the younger looks at him clueless.

you look at jaemin, dumbfounded. “what, why? sometimes no one gets shot.”

jaemin narrows his eyes and approaches you as if you were his new sworn enemy. “there will be drugs, baby.”

“okay, let's get going!” haechan shouts and you stifle a belated laugh.

he starts pushing you toward the door, suddenly changing his mind and looking strangely excited, just as mark has a surge of energy from the couch.

“can i come with you?”

“sure,” you downplay its importance. “everyone can come.”

“are your girlfriends coming?” jisung asks, very excited.

“they are,” you say, tapping his shoulder playfully. “so? i drive,” you ask the rest, watching mark's eyebrows come together.

the boy sweeps the room, counting the heads, and as far as you can see, his math doesn't add up. “we'd be too much for your car, wouldn't we?”

“don't you worry about it.” you and haechan share glances; although his seems a little hesitant.

forty-three minutes later, you find yourself on the dimly lit street of your residential complex. the sky is dark and devoid of moon and stars, while small snowflakes begin to levitate in the air. it is june and it has starts to snow in the city, where five friends warm up each other in the freezing night.

“i present to you: my ride.”

mists come from your lips in the cool night, and your cold-flushed fingers point at your parents' best gift that they lent you for college a week ago.

“is it... behind that ugly van?” jisung wonders, burying his hands in his jean jacket; cheeks tinted with a pink color due to the cold.

haechan hides his high-pitched laugh behind a fake cough and you roll your eyes. “that is my ride. say hello to gertrude,” you announce, unlocking the bodywork, “she's the best on the block. she has speakers, gps, lights, a sunroof, and... sliding doors!” you say, effusive. your eyes glance expectantly at the boys, sharing looks with each other. “okay, never mind. have fun walking to the party.”

“oh, my god! a van! dang!” they exclaim, voices layering on top of each other as they slowly approach the van.

“at least pretty girls are coming with us,” jisung mutters reluctantly as he enters the back seat.

“chaeyoung and liz?” you wonder through the rearview mirror. “of course! they're already there, my friend.”

you see the reaction to your words live when he slides nostalgicly into the seat until he rests his head on the backrest, just as you shout with crescent excitement, “seat belts on, kids.”

ʚïɞ

as you make your way through the bodies in the vibrant gloom of fishing port outside of the city, haechan stands in the other corner of the party, shuffling a deck of cards in the company of several people around him.

his fingers are snappy, teeth catching his lower lip in concentration while he and mark exchange some words before the game begins and the bets start to come in. you're still amazed at his skill with his hands, passing the cards from one to the other while shuffles them that you don't realize when you bump into your friends.

“what?!” liz yells in your direction when she sees you approaching, too busy by the way, making out with her boyfriend.

“i didn't say anything!”

“oh.”

her fingers points behind you to the drink chaeyoung offers you when she arrives. “you made it!” they both start jumping around you in celebration.

“yeah. why wouldn't i?” you ask, slightly curious. the blonde and the brunette share a look that reveals a lot of the message. “oh, my god. why does everyone hate my van all of a sudden? it has taken us to our destination on numerous occasions.”

“i'm just saying you've been saving lately, you could just buy yourself a car.”

“but she's special to me!”

it was… moderately true. but you were hoping to spend your savings on something worthwhile. besides, what's wrong with it? it may be a prehistoric old lady, with dents, and worn paint, but it had been a gift from your parents... after they got a pickup truck recently.

preserving it meant holding onto that piece of home you were homesick for. every scratch, every sticker, every worn seat held a story of adventures. selling it felt like letting go of a part of yourself, a tether to your past that you weren't ready to let go.

“as long as it rolls,” liz tags your side playfully.

you toast clinking your beer with hers and drinking it in one gulp, almost choking with it when you spot something in the crowd, “oh, my god. there he is again.”

“mmm?” chaeyong says, looking everywhere, “who?” she watches you cover your face as your eyes travel to the figure of the boy on the other side of the party.

“jeno?” liz inquires unexpectedly, miraculously separating from her boyfriend.

“he's one of the racers.” chaeyoung stim.

“well, he won't stop staring at me, he's like obsessed,” you mention.

you and chaeyoung remove your sunglasses and peek a glance at the boy with his back turned having a pleasant conversation with a girl before he senses your eyes across the room and looks over his shoulder; he stares back at you with a mixture of emotions that don't convey anything pleasant.

“yeah... obsessed. not at all that he hates you,” chaeyoung mocks.

you chuckle, “i swear!”

“perhaps you should stop hooking up with guys and ghost them afterward,” she says nonchalantly as she stares at jeno longer, “or... maybe when you go on dates, avoid bringing up the dick of your friend like he's some sort of your impossible love.”

you're too stunned to speak, “what- i don't do that— first of all, haechan's not a dick. second of all, i have a bad memory, unfortunately. and i think you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

you cross your arms, smugly and one hundred percent sure, “give me an example then.”

“the ghosting thing or the second? cause i can think of some. eric,” she pronounces, “shotaro, jaehyun, let's not forget about jaehyun. mingi...”

“okay, i got your point.” reluctantly, “but that doesn’t explain why he hates me.”

“you threw your beer on him the other day,” liz answers, taking a break from french kissing her boyfriend in a public space.

“but why i don’t remember?”

“you were wasted as fuck.”

“well, accidents happen…” you trail off.

“you took his after.”

oh.

“i'll go get us more beer,” chaeyoung laughs, giving liz an eye, “just for us,” she adds, looking away after seeing her and chenle tongue-kissing.

as chaeyoung leaves you alone to fetch drinks, you wander aimlessly through the crowd, surrounded by swirling lights. the bubbling beer encourages you to join the swaying of bodies, carried away by the euphoria and debauchery of the night that slip from your memories, like hazy reminiscences.

a guy makes his way towards you smiling like a charm, before your eyes register his face drain of color and disappear the way he came. “what the fuck?” you breathe, running your tongue through your teeth just to make sure you didn't have a piece of broccoli stuck between them. but it turns out that, to your relief, it had nothing to do with you and more of this lurking sensation behind your back only to find jeno making his way to you.

alcohol evaporates from your system with a snap of your fingers as you unconsciously remember the suspicion that he hates you from your friend, so you flee to the golden boy's shelter.

haechan's eyes fill with pure amusement when he sees you arrive laughing where he's with mark and jisung; very high. very exaggerated. “hae, you're so funny.”

“haven't said anything, gorgeous,” he chuckles in awe.

you laugh more, wiping away a tear. “may i?” you point to his lap and sit down simultaneously when he agrees.

his tongue pokes his cheek where stars form an uneven triangle as you wrap your arms around his neck, getting closer. “what?” you inquire nervously under his gaze.

he hums casually, denying.

he has a cigar tucked behind his ear that he proceeds to hold between his fingers. “fire,” he says in jisung's direction, where the boy very promptly hurries to take out the lighter.

your fingers grasp the cold object when mark lights his doobie and hands it to you, igniting the flame for him.

haechan takes the cigarette between his lips and comes closer to the fire, the hot light bathing his golden features. some strands of his hair burst into melted honey as he takes a deep puff before his hand lands on your bare back in an unmeditated gesture, blowing the smoke out into the starless sky when he leans back.

you take the opportunity to take a look around, hoping jeno is enjoying the show. nervousness and butterflies start to blossom in your gut when he's nowhere to be found just as haechan leans dangerously towards you and you're able to smell the essence of weed when his lips go to your ear. “you're moving too much, sweetheart.”

he moves away from you to scan you, and you can't figure out why you're out of breath so suddenly for the dimensioning. “are you drunk?” he asks suddenly.

“i can't sit on your lap like good buddies?” you ask, punching his arm slightly, but he's very unfazed.

“buddies,” he repeats, thinking out loud as his lips take another puff. “yeah, we're buddies. and you're basically chasing away my chances to hook up tonight.”

you roll your eyes, “should i get off...?”

“no need,” he cuts you off.

you've known haechan for as long as you can remember. he's been your firsts times of everything. he's your best friend. although sometimes it feels like something more*.* and feeling special is the same as feeling stupid, because for haechan, acting like this, means nothing.

he likes to exist in the middle of the lines.

he moves and everything suddenly glows around him, in his path. it's impossible not to stare at him. it's easy for him as well; he's good-looking, he's delicate and relaxed. he's open and kind. he lets everyone in, but no one stays.

you're a bad friend, aren't you? thinking of him romantically. doing it when you know now that he has never been interested in you in that way but now with the newfound knowledge of why; it's hard to act like before when you know he's surprisingly attracted to girls, and he's never flirted with you even though he does it the way he breathes.

“is he already jealous?”

your eyes shoot out at haechan, staring at you with suspicion and victory as he hits the nail on the head easily, referring to your intense attention to your surroundings in case you see jeno on your radar. “what- don't be silly.” you try to lighten the mood and downplay it, but it doesn't work much.

his fingers come close to your ear, and bring up a 100 bill that he surely won gambling, or betting, or solving tests for other people, as if saying 'i don't buy it, but good try' “are you using me, sweetheart?”

fighting against it it's not worth it; what is handsome about him is that he's also clever.

“maybe. can i borrow your attention from the girls for a sec?

an untamed emotion washes over his features, as you feel him fix underneath your weight, pelvis pressing fleetingly into you. the sudden perception of his crotch poking your dressed ass leaves you flustered and fuzzy; you must put all your willpower into thinking the distracted motion was just you imagining differently than it was.

but when your eyes fall on him, you see him blush.

he looks hauntingly beautiful under the influence of alcohol. the lights reflect off his tanned skin, and he glows. dark eyes that melt like chocolate when the light hits the metal chains around his neck, honeycomb hair messy revealing his forehead and his eyebrows, moving slightly.

“all yours.”

smiling back is unavoidable. he's magnetic. he makes time go slowly. he's effortlessly handsome and alluring, an untamed wild aura envelops his moves when he looks away and strips you of his attention, leaving you stranding in the dark because he has that effect on people.

he has that effect on you.

he clears his throat at one point catching your attention from the black-haired boy striking up a conversation with chaeyoung at the other end of the cargo box. your eyes go down to him as you feel him tense beneath you. “too heavy?” you want to know, stung by curiosity.

“you're perfect.” he lets out a light laugh when you tap him gently, rolling your eyes. “but if you want to get him jealous, you might have to do something more risky than just sit on a guy's lap.”

your eyes open slightly, apprehensive, “like, what?”

he grins, “lap dancing.”

you see him burst out laughing under the effects of the pot, enhancing his mirth when he senses your distress.

your cheeks and neck burn from the comment said so lightly, throwing you off. “you're a dick.” you hit him, huffing.

but after seconds go by, you think about it seriously, “maybe i should.”

haechan coughs the smoke out of his lungs, caught in surprise by your answer. you see him choking wildly before he returns back to normal. your attentive eyes look at him, prompted. has he been flushed by what you've said?

“come here.” you're drawn to him without a warning. breaths mingling in the narrow space when haechan pulls you close, really close and your hair cascades down, covering your faces as he pretends to kiss you.

he smells like a wild mixture of weed and booze. the scents fill your receptors and clutter up your thoughts, getting you drunk and lightheaded. his warm hand plays with your neck while he smiles and you are too dumbfounded to get out of the trance you’re in because only a few centimeters are missing from your mouths touching.

“so who's he?” he wants to know, completely forgetting that he's only inches away from your face.

“you don't know him,” you say, gulping. is it just you?

haechan scoffs, and his licorice rum breath hits your lips, “i'll decide that.”

you turn away from him under his contemplating eyes, resisting the urge to bite your lip; haechan's eyes drop when you evidently end up doing so, pondering. “uh... jeno?”

“jeno,” he repeats as if he's convincing himself that you've actually said that name. as if he's entranced by the way you wet your lips.

“d'you know him?”

he hums.

“is he...?” **words don't come to you. is he dangerous? should you be careful with him? suddenly you want to know his opinion on the subject. suddenly you wish he'd keep his hand on your back a little longer.

“single?” he pronounces, “i don't give a fuck about that information, sweetheart. i suggest you look elsewhere.” his words hit you like a bucket of cold water and you find yourself hindered by such a drastic change of attitude. “starting with all the girls he takes to bed in one night.” from so close, you wish he couldn't see your expression shifting under his words. his lips are heart-shaped but nothing sweet comes out of them. because even though he's being cruel, you don't want him to notice it. you don't want him to know that he's hurt you.

“i wonder if they're the same ones you take to bed.”

he scoffs, “do your do.”

you step back a little to get a better look at the attitude he's taken so suddenly. “what does that even mean, haechan?”

“i need more of this...” he completely ignores your rhetoric and gets up from the chair with you, still on his lap. the movement causes you to stumble before the grip on your back becomes harder, preventing you from falling.

haechan gently taps your chin, overlooking your features contracting into a hurt grimace. the mere notion of him not finding you attractive enough hit you like a truck. 'cause only until tonight you had taken his disinterestedness as something else.

“you think he won't hook up with me.” words gush out of you with venom, drawing his attention.

“i just don't think you'd dare.”

“i've got game,” you point out.

“all losers, by the way. c'mon, pretty. you're not meant to be a one-night stand.”

the comment comes out of him so easily that it doesn't seem to be loaded with the most corrosive toxin that destroys your insides. the feeling of betrayal takes your breath away, and the fact that he was the one who uttered those words hurts like hell. “it's not like you're the god of sex either.”

haechan's eyes turn to you. “you want proof of that?”

“sure!”

“want me to show you, sweetheart?”

“i'd love that!”

he shrugs. “then do. your. do. if you dare.”

“fine!”

“hi!” a hand grabs haechan by the shoulder and spins him around; a girl with long, honey-colored hair smiles openly with extreme excitement under both of your confused stares. she's visibly lightweight by the way she holds her beer and the words come out slow and elongated. “minyeon? from earlier?” she tries to make him remember her even though it doesn't work much.

“you must've mistaken me for someone else,” he says in a tactless manner.

she tilts her head, “haechan, right?” followed by a nervous silence.

sometimes you forget how easy it is for haechan to straight up lie in people's faces to get away with it just the same way he hooks up and forget it the next minute. “i'll leave you two to catch up,” you say, deciding not to see how he gets rid of that one.

ʚïɞ

haechan finds himself freezing his butt off while watching the brunette stoner of his friend smoke. he starts considering keeping him company or just leaving him while he finds a girl (or a couple of them) to hook up with, if not for the fact that he doesn't want to do either. it irks him not to be able to label that annoying emotion he feels at this moment.

“could you stop that fucking noise?” mark wonders, annoyed.

“what noise?”

“the whining.”

“i am not whining, i'm just breathing.”

“every time you breathe a noise follows,” mark retorts, taking a long hit before the race. “you're so punchable right now.”

haechan wants to strangle him. he could be stoned out of his mind too, except that he is so sober that it makes him angry. it makes him aware.

his eyes travel to the spot he's been staring at all night, to find you talking animatedly with jeno; the snort comes out of him without him noticing it when you laugh and lean closer to the boy, and mark whines.

“he seriously can't be funnier than me,” haechan remarks. “she's clearly flirting with him.”

“wanna know my take on this matter?” mark's tired voice catches haechan's attention for a few seconds. “i think you're mad because you can't tell jeno not to date yn the same way you did with us.”

“did i ask your opinion? no, i didn't... —and i did not do that. i couldn't fucking care less who she's dating.”

mark rolls his eyes, “then stop staring at her.”

“i. can't.”

does he really care much who you date? certainly not, given the dating history you've had; it hasn't affected him at all to see you hanging out with guys instead of him. to see you saving them the seat next to you at the café you frequent all the time, wearing their clothes.

above all, he doesn't imagine you kissing them, or laughing louder at their jokes, or their hands on your body, on the curve of your waist, your full legs, back, arms, face, stomach...

“oh, my god! dude. you're so jealous.”

haechan peels his eyes off you with his irises flaming to look at mark. his neck burns and he can't sit still feeling his whole insides blazing. “jealous?” he huffs, “i'm just bugged.”

“explain again why, i didn't catch the first one.”

“because she's...”

“forget it, i don't care.” haechan is cut by mark, and to his anger, he finds it soothing. luckily, the boy doesn't pay attention to the breath haechan lets out because he finds himself looking quite carefully at a single point in the crowd, where the same girl from before seems out of place.

mark doesn't even hesitate to go to her, leaving haechan alone with his mind, soon becoming a mess as he tries to articulate what he feels, struggling to make sense of why it infuriates him so much that you're talking to jeno, that you're smiling, that you let him hold you by the waist, that you allow him to lead you to a quieter, more intimate place. while he grapples with the conclusion of why you don't do all these things with him.

because you're his best friend.

you're his.

a girl surprises him by clinging to his neck without warning, and in another moment he would play along, but now he's quite upset and doesn't even find her attractive. “not now, ryu,” he mutters without sparing a glance at her, too busy with you.

mind too occupied to be distracted by her, too occupied thinking of you.

through the natural flow of events, a couple of beers, and your mind full of a hazy sensation, you may have made hasty decisions.

“you're so hot,” jeno whispers against your lips, breathing heavily.

his lips are deft. kisses tasting like beer and cigarettes. he moves his mouth over yours with the utmost delicacy and fierceness; his hands holding your face as his tongue fiddles before clashing with yours.

“i knew it!”

his hands gently encircle your waist.

“should we move this somewhere else?”

he doesn't stop for you to answer. between kisses, you say, “your place?”

jeno detaches himself from you with an amused look, “i race in a bit,” he points out, with an airy laugh. his eyes scan the place: leaning your body against a metal box on the outskirts of the party, with the smell of the dock coming towards you. the sky is starless, and apart from you, there is not a soul around. and yet, he seeks. “where's your car?”

“m-my car?” you repeat, pulling away to look him in the eye. he hums, staring at your lips, and because of that, you utter, “this way.”

your van is parked far away from the vibrant pulse of the party. the journey seems eternal. it's quiet. jeno lets you lead the way as you hear his footsteps on the gravel behind you. you've exchanged words with him for the first time tonight, given the fact all your friends know him; everyone knows him; he's won a couple of times in races. he's popular and as far as you're aware, he keeps everything casual. no hard feelings. no commitment.

his kisses have left your own judgment in disarray, clouding your clarity, and now you begin to see the severity of your rushed decisions. you find yourself yearning for something you believe he might fulfill tonight; you're so needy for someone.

“this is it. this is my car.”

jeno stares at the van with wide-open eyes, and the motion makes his eyebrow piercing sparkle when he nods slowly, “nice ride.”

the pit in your stomach narrow, and just like that, with a puff, the fact that he said that makes it less scary. “right?!” oh, you seriously don't have survival instincts.

he nods, approaching you and pinning you against the car. the kisses deepen, growing more fervent and desperate with each passing breath. he lets you lead him as his hands grope the door.

“sliding doors?”

you visibly melt.

“aw.” you pepper kisses across his face while he lets you step inside.

you've kissed a bunch of guys. but jeno doesn't compare at all to haechan, nor to the tenderness in which your best friend first kissed you in the backseat of the van after regretting ditching you for the hottest girl in school. and while jeno reclines you against the seat, his touch tracing patterns along your sides, sending shivers down your spine, and fingers dancing across your skin, your mind involuntarily drifts back to the past, replaying the memory of his lips upon yours in an endless loop.

and thinking about him makes you hesitate. and you hate him for it. you hate that you can't decipher the reason behind how he treats you when no one's watching, how you steal glances at each other while the other pretends not to notice, why he looks at you longer than the rest? why do you want his lips to be kissing you and not jeno's? why do you want to replace the hands that travel under your skirt with a pair of known hands full of rings?

why, among all things, did you expect him to be your first time with a guy, 'cause then you'd know he'd be romantic, and sweet, caring, and gentle, and the way you always dreamed?

you hate him because you can't even spend 30 min without him out of your mind. it is so much devastating that even when you don't think about him, you think about him.

and it's quite unfair to jeno that you're weighing on him while he's kissing you. maybe you should focus. his hands. they travel to your thighs and your breath freezes in your throat. he's actually good with them. if you look closely, if you squint hard, it's almost romantic that you're going to lose your virginity in the same place you had your first kiss with haechan, right?

it's just that… you had dreamed of doing it in places that felt more familiar to you. your bedroom, with a good mattress, for example.

the belt digs into your lower back as his kisses escalates, and you think, well… fuck it.

the mere thought draws into your chest when jeno's kisses descend to your neck, and you think it would be easier to reject him like every other guy you met if he wasn't so delicate, if he wasn't kinder than the others.

the shrill sound of the sliding door opening without warning takes you by surprise. a squeal leaves your lips as you stare at the cut-out silhouette that appears in the night, slowly becoming less blurred and more like someone.

“there you are. the race is in 10.” the voice you know so well comments, leaning on the door and sticking his head inside the van.

basically, it's like seeing haechan, but his hair is darker and longer, and his tone of voice colder and fiery. donghyuck's eyes glint like elusive fireflies, a mysterious allure dancing in his gaze. he's calm, while haechan is relaxed. when he smiles, he seems to hold a thousand secrets he can whisper to you at midnight. he exists at night, while haechan exists in daylight, reminiscent of captivating sunlight.

“i'm busy,” jeno says, slowly.

“i don't care.” silence spreads in the air as you're frozen by the audacity he has to interrupt such a private moment without caring to apologize, the nonchalant way he projects while waiting for jeno to react.

the black-haired man catches your gaze, apologetically. “sorry, doll. duty calls.”

you stay straight in awe as jeno removes from you and step outside the van. the only light bulb pulling highlights from his messy blonde streaked hair, while your existence is totally ignored as they exchange some words before he begins to walk away as if the last few minutes hadn't passed, leaving you alone with donghyuck.

“well, thanks for that.” you say venomously, stepping out of the car and looking him in the eye to notice that he finds the situation amusing.

“what can he do in 10 minutes, sweetpea?”

besides that stupid nickname, your cheeks warm up from his comment. “what can you do in 10 minutes?”

“you’d be surprised.”

“not really…”

the words crowd and fade on your tongue when donghyuck comes close to you, and you can smell the musk of his cologne when he closes the back door of the van. his eyebrows come together and he gives you a suspicious look very similar to your best friend's, scanning your face, “are you drunk, by any chance?”

he watches you roll your eyes. “why?”

donghyuck shrugs with nonchalant air, “you're not oversharing.”

“i don't overshare.” you fold your arms. “and that's not what i meant. you literally chased my 10 minutes rendezvous away.”

“he's not right for you.”

you feel flushed until the feeling is replaced by the indignation gripping your chest, “because i'm not his type?”

donghyuck sweeps over your figure unashamedly after your statement as he hums thoughtfully. without being able to help it, your neck burns from the intensity of his gaze sparkling when he locks eyes with you, and you find that the reason you stare at him back is because he doesn't have haechan's moles. “you're everybody's type.”

there's a solitary star just above the corner of his mouth, burning under his cheek, tinged pink.

you're too stunned to react immediately when he walks away from you, unceremoniously. his hazy presence beginning to fade as he drifts away into the darkness, until the last second when he stops and looks over his shoulder. “you coming?” an invitation. donghyuck reaches into the pockets of his leather jacket to pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter, the silvery object glows faintly, glimpsing a star engraved in it. he doesn't even offer you a cigarette when he lights one for himself, the smoke clearing into the long night, as he takes you back to the party without exchanging words. profile already showing a smug smirk because he somehow finding this amusing.

just as he found your bicycle accident annoyingly entertaining before treating you himself.

it was a terrible wound, you couldn't even look at it. and you were so scared of telling your parents that you didn't cry even though it hurt like a thousand hells. you like to think that only he knows about that scar, because only he has seen it. he was so good at keeping secrets, because he probably didn’t remember them.

night clears your head as you exhale deeply into the night.

“where are we going?”

the growing murmur of music beginning to keep you company with your footsteps on the gravel, him taking you to a different place than you came from. you stare at his impenetrable profile, “backstage.”

a little further away from the party in the cargo containers is a heavy cargo truck, where boys begin to take out fancy sport cars amid shouts and cheers. you watch minyeon happily talk to the boy who has stirred up your senses and walked away as if nothing had happened a couple of minutes ago, and all of a sudden you find yourself irritated because he's kissing her now. the same way he kissed you.

donghyuck takes your gesture of crossing your arms for something else, as he strips off his jacket and throws it tactlessly over your shoulders. “thanks...” you say, but tinged with another meaning. and he deciphers it when he answers; you’re not talking about the cold, but a second secret thing when he breathes, “any time.”

ʚïɞ

some participants have moved the party to a sparsely populated café in the city downtown. you find yourself surrounded by papers strewn all over your table while your loaded coffee cup sits empty and not working in your system.

“what?!”

“liz! i still don't say anything!” you greet your friends.

“sorry! my ears' ringing! can't hear anything.” she sits at your table behind jisung. “moody,” she mumbles when jaemin comes like a busy bee with another round of coffee for everyone, gently bobbing his head.

“i'm sorry.” you take your head in your hands, “this test is killing me and i haven't had proper sleep.”

“yeah, tell me about it,” she huffs.

you two share knowing looks under jisung's confused stare.

for the past three nights, your roommate had gotten into the habit of sneak in guys in the night, and while that was fine within the community rules secretly agreed upon between you, chaeyoung and company were just too loud.

jisung takes interest in the impasse where liz and you look on together, “i haven't been able to sleep well since,” liz complains.

your mysterious friend's wanderings were none of your business until they messed with your study time.

you almost choke on coffee when you come up with an idea just as jaemin takes an unsupervised break at your table. “i can exchange rooms with you,” you propose to the boy, skipping the real details. “think about it, the air is breathable, it's tidy, it smells like roses, and- there is also a no drugs policy.”

liz sends you a look “there is? ah!” she exclaims rubbing her calve under the table and sending you a dangerous glare.

“please say yes. it'll only be for this week of exams.” the three of you watch jaemin ponder, 'til he moves to drink his coffee, and becomes aware of you. “beg your pardon?” the boy removes a pair of earphones with an attentive grimace.

“would you mind changing rooms with me?” you repeat, putting all your charisma into an attempt to sugarcoat the situation.

“sure, all yours!”

“now that you mention the room thing, i've always wondered why you don't just live with chenle and the rest of the bikers,” liz wonders, tapping her chin. “you get along well with them but you'd rather hang out with...” her eyes travel unexpectedly to the blond boy drinking his milkshake. “us,” she finishes.

liz's point interests you and jisung. “yeah... you're right...”

“rent's cheaper,” jaemin simply says, shrugging.

“but i pay the rent,” jisung quietly mentions, pointing at himself.

“exactly,” jaemin replies, making the boy laugh amused, and you can't help but stroke his hair because of a sudden overload of tenderness.

“do you want to hear my opinion on this matter?” liz says after a while. “i think she's fucking mark.”

the girl gives you a sassy look before leaning back from her chair and drinking her coffee, with the three of you staring at her in discredit.

ʚïɞ

“you're sure you'll be okay?” mark asks you as he puts on his jacket.

there is no trace of jaemin, much less jisung. it's the weekend again and the apartment is in an eerie calm because haechan is not around. “i mean, partying is so overrated.”

“it is,” he agrees with a laugh, “it's halloween, though. are you sure you'll be alright not stealing kids' candies this year?”

you’ll be okay because the whole week has been halloween for you.

it’s been a while since you and haechan talked, although it seems like an eternity.

you were taking it as a clue to leave the subject in the past, but you couldn't, despite the attempts to convince yourself that everything was fine even when you haven't talk to him or meet him during breaks on campus, or on the way to the bathroom, even though he sleeps in the room next to yours. not a sign of him except when he arrives late at night trying to make the least noise although you can still hear the giggles of his companions every night.

you live in the same house and it seems as if walls go up every time you see each other. and he probably hasn't even noticed that you've stripped him of the thing you care the most.

the ghost of his cologne as he passes by you every night haunts you, and it was killing you slowly, whatever this indifference was.

to say that it didn't matter to you at all would be another one of your lies, but seeing that he didn't care at all began to get to you.

“i'll stay to study this time.”

you notice that mark is unsure about it but the boy ends up agreeing with a slight nod. “jisung says that you're allowed to read his comic books if you get bored, and you can use haechan's notes if you want. jaemin left a espresso for you if you start to feel sleepy, but, if you feel extra bored, you can grab one of my muffins. you don't mind taking them out of the oven once they're done, right?”

your eyebrows come together at that new dosis of information, “do you bake?”

you were ignorant that any of them knew how to bake. although in reality jaemin prepares the best coffees in the world, and jisung washes the clothes impeccably. maybe it was your fault to pigeonhole them into pretty boys with airheads.

he lets out a light laugh and winks at you, “sure thing.” before leaving you alone with your failed attempts to focus on accounting.

it doesn't take long for you to get bored of actually studying, and then you come up with the best idea of the night: you can have your own party at home.

all in the name of not doing the accounting homework, you end up picking up the place, drinking some cheap red wine and of course, attacking their freshly made fridge. when the muffins are ready, you've given up.

just because haechan doesn't want to see you shouldn't ruin your chance to attend the party tonight. yeah. that's right. all you have to do is make sure not to bump into him tonight and everything will be alright. besides, accounting is kind of overrated.

it is probably past midnight when fate works against you, and as you open the door, the two of you find yourselves staring at each other from across the threshold.

he looks surprised for a fleeting moment, as if you had interrupted his plans or his musings; you've probably had, imagining the times he's escorted girls to the apartment when you were friends, and how you never noticed it until you started showing closer attention to him; you missed the nights you didn’t knew, you missed the nights you didn’t mind.

it is probably past midnight, and his cheeks are flushed as if he had spent his entire life under the sunlight, a blush that has decided to reside on his skin since childhood. his gaze is honeyed, and his eyelashes frame his doe eyes. his hair is slightly disheveled, stuck to his forehead with sweat. his expression is soft, lost in a dream he can't quite decipher, as if everything feels light. what surprises you the most isn't that he's alone tonight, but how you're suddenly noticing all that just now.

his eyes blink slowly, “going somewhere?” only when he stumbles over his own words you understand that it’s the dizziness of alcohol.

you are caught off guard when he pulls out a beer from the frigde, given how intoxicated he already is. “i didn't expect you to arrive so early.” or alone.

“i didn't expect you to be here.”

since this is his apartment, he has every right to be bothered that you're here given the fact you two aren't speaking. “if you prefer, i can leave.”

wet, drowsy eyes stares at you. “i’d rather you stay.”

he wanders around the apartment, his steps clumsy. graceful, his movements still seem delicate and slender. in the middle, you turn your back to the door that remains open and inviting when you close it and decide to stay. you trail after him when he drifts toward the bathroom, keeping close by in case he needs you. the door is left ajar, the light hum softly against the tiles. his profile is outlined by the soft, hazy glow from the living room, gleaming his smooth, tanned skin that flushes when he grins. “are you going to just stand there, watching?”

you hadn’t expected this. him wasted, cheeks glowing, his lashes heavy as if carrying sleep itself. you’d only thought he’d be a little stoned, fuzzy and soft, giggling like a fool and blurting out scientific facts; this image strikes you as just as strange as your behavior when he takes off his shirt. “yes.” seeing the situation as funny goes beyond your critical thinking, but of course, in his alcohol-soaked brain, it probably makes sense. “i mean, i’m making sure you won’t fall cause the floor’s a little slippery.”

“i won’t,” he says automatically after.

“why drink so much that you can't think straight?”

“i’m trying not to think.” he mutters, but the thought drifts unfinished, as if there’s more he’ll never say. to you. his lips part like he might go on, but all he does is stare, clinging to you as though the reason were carved somewhere in your face. “you’re leaving?” he wants to know.

“yes.” you wanted to. you were to. now you’re not so sure.

his face tilts and you see the shadow of his eyelashes before your gaze moves upward and meets his brown eyes. “don’t go with him.” you had never noticed how your bodies used to come together without noticing it, until his warm breath hits your forehead. it takes you a moment, longer than it should, to put the pieces together. the drawn-out insistence, the urging of it all. only then do you understand. he's talking about jeno.

he’s a little drowsy and lightheaded, and his essence only clouds your senses. it intoxicates you. he’s so pretty, chrushingly so. you figured, you’ll never get drunk again and kiss strangers, crash at a party and wander aimlessly. “forget him tonight.” you’ll always gasp when he looks at you with this intense gaze, and he’ll keep staring at your lips.

“be with me.” dainty skin is exposed, and you find yourself embarrassed and aware of his muscles flexing when he lifts his hand and brush your lower lip. “i’m your best friend,” he pronounces, as if he’s just aware of it now.

but why does his hand brush your chin, why does he align his mouth with yours? why does he come toward you, as if he wants to kiss you?

you’re afraid you’ll never know. his lips never touch yours. instead, his hair tickles your face as he moves away from you toward the toilet, and you see him, still wrapped in a dream, as he throws up.

ʚïɞ

there's a charm about a gemini boy. something captivating. so hard to pin down; but of course there are many things that make haechan unique, such as his evocative charisma or the fact that with him, the sun never sets. and even though you can't do anything to not feel a jumble in your stomach at the sight of him, that's not what makes an uneasy feeling settle in your chest, but the girl on his legs, kissing his neck.

he doesn't seem affected at all by your friendship, and reveals enough to realize that his confession have only been him being drunk and playing around. playing you.

his eyes meet yours amidst the sea of faces and suddenly you think of how unfair it is that he gets to do all of those things without getting attached because if it were you…, if you were on his legs, and you were inches away from his face. if you could be able to trace his moles with your finger before kissing him, there would be no return for you from that point.

and all this time you didn't have to worry about that because your safe place was being his best friend and for a long time, you had lived in denial about this side of him that had been hidden from you. sensations accompanies you when you make your way out. the floor shakes under your feet and something weird spread on your guts; you feel a little unwell.

the sedative effect on your body hesitates and helplessly your insides feel empty accompanied by nothing but the moon. and the heartstring, it's all mixed up inside of you; it turns you into an mess. up until this point, you hadn't realized how much it affected you to look at him that way. somehow, you had managed to ignore it, but now it takes space, and it grows and makes you sick of it.

the feelings are everywhere. and when the murmur of the night brings with it a beautiful boy unaware of your presence, you're doomed. he gently exhales smoke that travels moonward, velvety brown eyes lingering until they find you.

“hi,” you greet.

his eyes glow fleetingly amused, the corner of his lips pulled to the side in a half-smile identical to your best friend's. but chaotic. untamed. hasty. “mind if i join?” you shake your head watching him sit next to you on the step.

you contemplate him, smoking. in silence.

something feels wrong when you can't look at him without revoking haechan. sometimes it's unfair because everything reminds you of him. your mind always playing tricks, desperately searching for haechan in any face you meet. “i’m afraid your brother doesn’t want to be my friend anymore,” you confess, eerily.

“everybody knows that, sweetpea.” his laughter takes you by surprise, it is light and soft, like a sigh.

your countenance is moved, “why?”

“no one wants to be your friend, yn,” he quietly answers.

donghyuck abruptly turns to you when he hears you sobbing. dark orbs watching you warily until you catch the soothing, sober scent of his perfume when he reaches you to comfort you. “shhh...” his attentive eyes follow your movements, hands gently stroking your sides. “what's wrong? what is it?”

lee donghyuck is an enigma, of course. he sees any challenge as something to beat. he has secrets who has secrets. mysterious, yet alluring. even before and even now, he has never let you in, and that's probably why he's a distant star for you. a lonely, and untethered sun.

when you were younger, you overheard him say that you were a crybaby to haechan… you probably were… you probably are.

there's a word in korea: inyeon. providence. but also fate. the whole reason why you're bound to see him as an impossible love, is because you believe that your life is meant to intertwine with haechan's. but in a deeper level, maybe in another past life, the heartstring lead you to donghyuck.

he's stolen your sighs for as long as you can remember, but it's like reaching the moon with your bare hands, unattainable. because haechan was always there; in your heart, he takes all the space. and now all of that explodes in your chest and you can't keep it inside.

he’s looking at you, apprehensive and you’re out of game. “i think the wine was expired,” you cry out holding your head, and unexpectedly, he laughs in a sigh.

“are you gonna throw up?” you take a few seconds to do a checkup, “i don't think so.” because all you find is this vast void, a wandering thought that leaves you second guessing. “i…”

“yes, sweetpea?” he inquires, apprehensive.

he looks so much like him, but at the same time, if you look at him for a long time, you don't fear losing yourself in his eyes, you don't think about having his heart.

“i've never seen you and haechan in one place at the same time,” you think —for your discontent, out loud.

he hums, thoughtfully. “let's not buy that wine again, okay?”

you nod, “i should go.”

you get up from the road and watch the moment when his eyes travel fleetingly and stop at a hidden point on your leg, and your breath freezes, 'cause you think he can somehow see something you try so hard to cover but he knows exactly where it is. “d'you want me to drive you home?” he gets up and immediately hovers over you but you already made up your mind.

“i'll be fine.”

you make your way back between bodies dancing in tune to some raucous music that turns out it's your favorite song. finding yourself in a whirlwind of lights and sounds while everything feels enhanced. it makes you dizzy, especially a pair of hands landing on your bare waist, and the way they pin you against a buff chest and fingers grip your skin, controlling your body.

'cause it feels like they're holding a secret confession.

the front door is on the other side of the crowd, and every passes you light and dazzily, and all your nerves disorder when he brings his mouth close to your ear. “leaving so soon?” when was the last time you talked without the other being drunk? you wouldn't know.

haechan wears charms on his hair and some strands of his messy short hair now dyed a lighter brown. “are you still mad at me?” he asks and as something spontaneous, everything takes a back seat.

could you? could you? could you?

he blooms in light when you shake your head. “you're my best friend.” you're welcomed into his chest with his arm wrapped around you.

he feels like home. steady. he’s all honey and softness. seduction and temptation. “sorry i called you a douchebag.”

“no worr… you didn't call me douchebag.” he giggles shortly.

“yeah, i did. secretly.”

he draws you back to him. “okay, i forgive you.”

the gentle rocking of his body soothes the ache. suddenly you don't feel so bad anymore. you feel less disoriented. your mind is cluttered by the addictive scent of his cologne and the small gesture he has of combing your hair.

“yo!” haechan looks over his shoulder at a mark appearing among the people with a silly grin that can only means he's baked. if that is not sufficient judgment for a given conclusion, the side cap he sports is. “i thought you wouldn't come. oh, and thanks for taking care of the muffins the other day. jaemin would’ve kill us if we ever set the apartment on fire again.”

“yeah, about the muffins…” you'd completely forgotten about them, which is hard to do when your stomach has been rumbling all the way you're partying. “i was kinda of hungry so i may or may not have taken one,” you say, biting your thumb foolishly in a chuckle.

both of them make a lousy sound that doesn't lead to anything good. “what?” you ask looking at both boys sharing a glance.

“it may… or may not have cannabis in it.” haechan mimics your accent funnily as if that would counteract the stomach churning that overwhelms you.

a hole opens up in your stomach that makes the floor wobble under your feet. “what?”

“don't panic,” he says when your palm holds your head spinning.

“did i just use drugs?!”

“i said don't panic,” he repeats staticly with a whiny voice.

“haechan,” you shout.

“what? it wasn't mine! right, mark?” haechan defends himself by showing his palms while looking for his friend, but the dark-haired boy has vanished from his side. “mark?”

“oh, god.” you feel faint as your whole inside collapses and lengthens and narrows and spins and everything. “my parents are gonna kill me.”

“well, they aren't around, are they?” he soothes with a boyish smile that makes you feel less dizzy.

“no, they are not...” you weigh.

haechan catches you gazing at him, a soft smile playing on his lips as he traces the contours of your face with his eyes; he has blonde highlights and small charms. “how do you feel?” his voice comes soft; you'd never noticed how soft it is unlike when he talks to others.

apart from the effect of the wine, it's right that you feel lighter. more smiling. and it would also explain why you were crying a little while ago. and why you were so confused about haechan and you. shit, it was all because you were under the influence of cheap wine and drugs. and drugs!

haechan sees you weird and strangely pretty as you laugh and laugh. “so nice.” especially when you're overwhelmed by the desire to hold him close because you know it's because you're high.

you both snort with amusement, nervously chuckling as you start to blink slowly, unable to stop looking at him. “can i have more of that?”

“do i look like a dealer? no,” he states curtly, changing his mood fast. his face gets so close to yours that it's a little overwhelming, as he states, “don't even think about it. forget it, pretty. this is a one-time thing.” he folds his arms in front of his chest, reluctantly.

“what if i buy you some?”

“this is a two-time thing, and it's over,” he declares. “but swear you won't try anything else from anybody. only with me.” a dense sensation washes over you when he utters those words. akin to belonging.

haechan's drowsy eyes don't leave yours until you nod. he smiles with pleasure, thumb lightly brushing your cheek, “okay. let's get you home.”

ʚïɞ

at least a dozen pairs of static black shiny eyes stare back at you when you're done with your work.

“i missed you guys, so much.” you say, fixing a red tie around a fluffy neck. “especially you, mr. buttons.” the brown bear seems to have a smile on his face because of the loose seams around his mouth. the clothes are a little bit faded and his shirt is missing…, and he's probably a hundred years old and ugly and threadbare, but he's still special to you.

living for a week in the apartment across the hallway could be considered a way to lose one's mind. there was no denying the fact that they were still men and that they would probably laugh at you for life at the mere hint that you slept with stuffed animals. you wanted them to still think you were hot and unreachable.

“do you also tuck them to sleep?” haechan's voice takes you by surprise and red-handed. you're not fast enough to cover the row of stuffed animals with the sheets and climb on them as if nothing had happened, because the way he leans against the door frame looks like he's been there for a while. “at least tell me you cover their eyes when you bring guys here. mr. buttons has no reason to see that his mother does naughty things with…”

“shut up!” you cover your mouth with both hands and give him a murderous look. “didn't they teach you to knock in summer camp for fools? leave!”

haechan lets out a laugh and to your distaste it's contagious. “should i take this with me, then?” his long fingers go to reach something in his back pocket that you intuit is weed. the sun-kissed boy grin pleased when you go to him and drag him inside before closing the door.

you lie on the side of the bed closer to the window and your knee softly collides with haechan's thigh. his face is bathed from the moon slipping through the curtains, and his eyes shine like wild berries. “so, good news is that my plug’s being investigated by the police, so he's not selling a lot lately.”

you watch him nod regretfully under your static gaze. “hae, isn't it supposed to be bad news?” you ask him a little confused and worried.

“oh, i thought it'd be for you because you're always doing the right thing.”

you're too stunned to speak. “i don't…-” you stop when he gives you an honest glance, “okay, what's the bad news, then?”

“mark borrowed me some of his.” you bite your lips, excited, and he just brush them with his fingers,“but,” he adds suddenly, “it's only enough for one cigarette, so we'll have to share.”

you nod, thoughtfully. it wouldn't have been so weird if you hadn't had those weird feelings from cannabis a week ago. you could say that you had acclimatized and that everything was back to normal, but that would be lying. but you and haechan have kissed before, it shouldn't be that weird; it shouldn't affect you at all now. “fine by me.”

“since it's your first time we'll smoke a joint,” he says looking at you while his hands work on it already. his eyes cast a glance at you when he feels you a little lost, “blunts are made with tobacco paper. hits harder than a joint,” he explains.

and before you can stop it, you're talking.

“i've tried tobacco before actually... hmm, my father used to have a collection of them. i stole one but i think it was expired because...” haechan's eyebrows raise with every word you say that ends up throwing you off. “what?” you stare at him, thinking he definitely sees you as a good lame girl and not interesting or alluring or pretty like the girls he likes.

“have you noticed that you yap a lot?” he says as a smile wells up on his lips.

“i don't! i was trying to make a point… with my daring adventures...”

you shut up when you see him put the cigar to his lips and light it. the opposite tip lights up red when he pushes the tinderbox away. his head pulls back and exposes his neck to blow air upwards and not towards you.

it's so mesmerizing, so hypnotic that he catches you gazing at his plump lips and his cheeks tint with a rosy color. “you'll want to leave it in your lungs for a bit before expelling it. it's like holding your breath. don't make a pause because that way you'd choke. look at it as if you are taking a deep breath and expelling the air after a few seconds,” he instructs, passing you the small joint. “yeah?”

you feel yourself nod.

your fingers take the rolled-up paper, analyzing it. it's so perfectly done, you think your friend definitely has a gift. you bring it to your lips as if holding your breath under his enraptured gaze.

his brown eyes suddenly feel intense as he studies you. “try to... mhm... just like that. good job.” he smiles proudly when he sees that you don't cough on your first puff. “we can always do it with a hookah, or edibles.” he recites, watching you take another one. “tell me if you like it,” he says while absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when it gets in the way. “i thought you didn't like the whole smoking thing.” you shake your head.

you don't, but he looks breathtaking tonight and you can't let him go when he belongs here. with you.

the smoke travels into your lungs and you soon find the process like a piece of cake, smiling to your insides when you finally master the tactic. “in that case, i could pass you the smoke.”

haechan comes to your aid as you begin to spit your lungs into the blanket. “yes. maybe we should try that. this is very hard for me,” you complain, passing him the cigar.

he makes it dance on his skillful fingers from shuffling cards so much, and it might have been the shadows of your dimly lit room to see a smile hidden in his mouth. “c’mere,” he says, taking an inhale of the joint. haechan lets you get close to him. hands going to hold your face while his sealed lips keep the smoke inside until you're face to face and your lips go to each other's.

you've kissed before. you remember that you kissed him before, in the back seat of your parent's van. you've touched his lips, you felt them against yours, but why does it feel like it's the first time? his mouth part open presses against yours while he passes you the smoke, and your tongue soaks in the taste of his lips. a vast sensation explodes within you, so intoxicating you're spellbound and dazed, that you find yourself breathless when he pulls away from you.

haechan looks at you, differently. the narcotic mixes with your wistful blood and turns you into a mess while his drowsy smoky eyes drifts to your lips, and you find out they're part open. your eyes feel glassy. your head buzzes. all your insides tingle. is it because of the pot or maybe because you're looking directly at him and he hasn't stop looking at you?

“did i do it wrong?” you wonder, worriedly, because what if you did it wrong, what if you blurred the lines? “shouldn't i have done that?” you ask again, watching him getting close to hold your face, as if he could sense how bad you're feeling and wanted to comfort you.

your common sense has been spoiled. and until now you hadn't noticed that there's always been something in space a wavering thought that keeps the other second-guessing. “maybe we should…” you start saying, trying to cover your disappointment by thinking for a moment that it wasn't all in your head, or in your heart, just seconds before he breathes your name like he was holding it dearly for a long time.

herbal tones and lingering boozy sweet tint explode on your tongue when he kisses you again. haechan's hands slide down to trap you to him as your fingers bury in his soft hair, leaving you with a haunting desire to feel his mouth over and over again. a sensation so wild, so vast, that takes over, deepening the kiss and sensing the trace of marijuana on his breath, getting high on it.

it takes your breath away as you separate from him, both of you breathing heavily. haechan tilts his head towards you and you see his intentions to kiss you again, but you remind him of the cigarette still burning in his fingers. you see him take a deep hit, and this time it's you who draws him to you and kisses him intensely.

haechan takes you by the chin exerting slight pressure to open your mouth before his lips wrap around yours and slowly begins to pass you the smoke. the moment feels smooth, seductive. kissing you with neat experience, awakening all your nerve endings as he bites, and teases and sucks your lips, skillfully.

the volatile feeling numb your senses due to the euphoria rushing through his lips colliding with yours over and over. deep and warm, his hands leave your face as you feel loftier and draw him closer to you, sliding his fingers until they tighten around your waist, pulling you alluringly to him so both of you get up from the bed as he holds your neck.

you grind against him, tasting the herbal tones of the weed on his breath, mouth not taking long to open when you run out of air, soon invaded by his tongue. you find yourself enraptured, giving in to him slowing from the way his mouth moves over yours. mind floating from his expert touch, trained by having done it on previous occasions with other girls. and that he'll surely do once he's done here with you.

“what?” he asks when you break the kiss without warning because your mouth tingles for him.

“i feel dizzy...”

haechan comes to you and strokes your sides, “it happens the first time. everything is enhanced.”

“seems like too much,” you confess. sensations, thoughts, the world, your feelings. there are too many to bear.

“i got you.” it was killing you, and it was better to stop thinking about it if you wanted to stay naive and ignorant of this.

you're surprised he's already looking at you when you look at him. he's sweet, and gentle. you stay still while he studies your face for discomfort, and you can't do anything to stop yourself from kissing him again; and to your surprise, he leans closer.

“yn, have you seen my new lingerie?!”

your eyes widen in terror and without thinking twice, you push haechan away from you. a high-pitched sound escapes him before falling touchlessly to the floor where the bed hides his body, right on time when liz appears in her underwear on your door.

both of you look at each other, and your heart threatens to jump out of your chest with all your emotions running high from drugs and haechan. “the sky blue lingerie with a bow on the front and laced panties?” you ask in a rush. “haven't.” she squints and you gulp hard.

“why are you so nervous?” she questions. “that's the behavior of someone who lies.” her eyes flash dangerously, “or someone who hides something.”

you freeze and your muscles stiffen as she moves into the room and past you. before you can react, she open your underwear drawer and exclaim, “aha!” taking out the damn lingerie.

the girl looks at you with discredit and victory while holding her lingerie up but you're more aware of the boy rubbing his head behind her while he looks at the scenario amusingly. and you're there, alternating your gaze and caught, vilely, ‘cause you thought she wouldn't notice.

“you thought i wouldn't notice, did you?” she clicks her tongue and walks to the door, smiling witfully before she stops suddenly. “by the way, did you hear that thump just now?”

“no.”

she weighs, “do you think it's chae again? see? i thought it had been clear not to bring boys anymore. if she sneaks boys again then it's right for you to bring guys and for me to bring chenle, but we haven't, ‘cause that'd be disrespectful.” you nod and she rolls her eyes, “there'll be a serious conversation, me and her, i swear to you that if...” liz closes the door behind her and her voice begins to fade away as she walks away from your room and allows you to breathe again.

you feel haechan's intense presence behind you but you're not able to face him after still feeling his burning kiss on your lips. your mind feels light, and you can't think properly. all your thoughts for him seem right to you but you know that they're not. because it's haechan, who likes untethered relationships, even when you feel close to him.

it takes you a few seconds to gather the strength to turn around and watch him rummaging curiously through your drawer.

“remind me not to mess with liz ever.”

your mouth opens in disbelief before shortening the distance between you by two strides. “stay away from my panties, pervert!”

ʚïɞ

back when you were younger, it was so easy to see through the mist, through him, that you didn't have to ask. on thanksgiving, you think you’re dying.

your head spins and you're back in, missing nights like this.

a shared living room wrecked with laughter, a crowded kitchen smelling like something’s burning because mark forgot to take out the homemade pizza. the typical sneering of jaemin when someone mess up the ingredients. the dining room table with university papers forgotten because the night of study became something else.

you miss your friends. you miss them even when there's clearly something wrong with them. “oh! you've made it!” liz greets the third time you two encounter in the kitchen, cupping your face with marvel.

“liz, this is our apartment.”

“oh.”

“have you seen haechan?” after a few drinks and giving the matter a lot of thought, you decide to ask because you haven't seen him for a couple of days.

“not at all!” she says, nodding and drinking from her martini. “but i saw donghyuck a while ago. i’ll send him your regards.” thinking about haechan turning down the opportunity to do illegal things wasn't an everyday occurrence…, except during exam week, but since it’s christmas break and you hadn't seen him for three ring parties, you had started to worry.

seeing lucid dreams of him had been a recent occurrence, and having to see his brother everywhere even more so. even though you could pretend for just a second that it was him, it only made his absence feel more acute; because it didn't evoke the same feeling in you. you didn't feel a sense of belonging.

that is, until the hallucinations deceive your eyes so much that he appears there, on the roof of your apartment. on a cold night, his eyes are lost in the starless sky, and yours are lost in him. “you’ll catch a cold.”

it's freezing, and his cheeks and lips don’t take long to dye pink. his eyes are two wild berries, opaque under his disheveled hair of dark brown locs; in the cold night, he’s not wearing a jacket, as if it had been lost for a while.

“i’m actually playing hide and seek with jisung.” and there’s your heart, as thin as a promise. you were never going to fall in love with him, but life has a way of proving you wrong, and it's seeing his smile light up his face.

“how’s that going?”

“i think he forgot.”

“let’s go back inside.” he moves closer, and flickering lights bathes his features to realize that it’s not haechan. beholding him, donghyuck is handsome as hell and honey, but your heart sinks a little, because he doesn’t give you a taste of sun.

on closer inspection, his eyes have never seemed so soft to you as they do now. from the way he knows just as simple, that you’re drunk.

but it’s not alcohol, is it? it’s your heart. he takes you in his arms and it’s unfair. all you can think about is how unfair it is to look for traces of haechan in his features and find none.

the slight sway of his steps as he descends the stairs has your mind fuzzy. dowsily, your head rest on his shoulder. “thanks for finding me.”

“of course, sweetpea.” he smells of sunsets and bonfires. oud scent that disperses until you no longer sense it, because all you can perceive is a powdery fragrance hanging in the air, along with coffee and musk.

the smell of haechan, making you fuzzy.

you’re dragged back into the trenches of empty wine bottles and michael jackson vinyl records before you can object.

haechan's room displays for your eyes and every time you're trying to keep it all in. jackets and lighters on a nightstand, some candle you gave him for christmas. cozy blanket thrown over a chair and a pile of books and papers on a desk.

it’s quieter than your room, and cozier. your eyelids slowly close.

“did you mean it?” a yawn breaks in, “that no one wants to be my friend?”

you think that donghyuck gently rejecting you a while ago is no longer the reason why you don't fall in love with him.

but this time, he doesn’t.

“forget that i said it.”

“i can’t.”

is it true that his eyes contain stars, or you just want to feel warm? light, but different, it’s still just light.

you see him take a moment, perhaps you have begun to doze off; seconds that become infinite, your eyes struggle to keep looking at him.“perhaps i could’ve been your friend.”

“that would imply liking me…”

your eyes have closed completely, and lost in the mist, you can barely hear him laugh. “yes.” pieces of the puzzle reveal the truth to you when he is already gone: you would’ve love to be his friend. because you would know how sweet he would be mid morning, you would know, for example, his favorite color or whether he prefers tea or coffee or neither. what he does after class and where he goes when it's midnight.

you would know, by instance, everything you know about haechan when you don’t even try to remember. but you do anyway.

dreaming, you were only dreaming when you heard donghyuck come back, but in your dreams, he's the one at the door. he has put on a tie that lies loose around his neck. he has unkempt hair and may be over-drunk like the night you almost kissed.

it seems like he's had a lot of thanksgiving night, you wonder where he's been? where has he been all this time? “do you think he likes me?”

you don't know what's real and what's not. donghyuck stays at the door, but then haechan kneeled besides you.

you carry the weight of having been in love with your best friend your whole life, because everything sings. and you knew why. he’s alluring and everything he does carry a kind of beauty you didn’t know it was possible. and before that, because he made you laugh. he’s a know-it all, and you still like him. and before even that, because he feels like waves crashing at the shore; because he feels like home.

you figured that everyone would fall in love with him, because you did.

“who?” he smiles, and it gives you the kind of warmth you’d expect from haechan.

“your brother?”

“of course he does,” he says, and even though he's lying, you find him sweet. “…do you…?”

yes, it has take you a while to figure it out, but now it slips through the cracks of your mind, like honey… like sunbeams.

“yes.”

ʚïɞ

it might as well be that his brain is scrambled and smoking has enhanced his attention deficit, because while mark and jisung are arguing about something he can barely understand, his gaze always ends up on the other side of the room…

but that doesn’t make any sense, because he’s been stoned before but never felt like this.

“so, did you confess your feelings to her?” haechan comes to his senses to find mark wearing a cowboy hat and jisung’s shirt all wrinkled. if he weren't stoned out of his mind, he probably would have mocked about it, but he's too busy, feeling exposed.

besides, his appearance wasn’t great either. the tie around his neck is loose, but he finds himself out of air, and slightly embarrassed with whatever ache he’s experiencing. if anyone was to be mocked for their appearance, it would probably be him, if his emotions were proportional to his looks.

he hasn't had a moment's rest since that day, and he hasn't been able to think about anything else but your big eyes following his before falling on his lips, burning for kissing you before he gathered the courage to do it. and his mind hasn't been quiet since then, and no matter how intoxicated he can get, nothing could make him stop thinking about you.

has he ever been sober enough to do anything?

running away from you wasn’t the best way to cope, but you should give him that, other way he wouldn’t have find you in his room that night. because the truth was that he probably would have confessed a secret while you were sleeping.

mark wraps his arm around jisung when he finally come to terms with his feelings, just to find out mark’s wasn’t even talking to him in the first place. “so you haven’t?” he asks jisung.

he was close.

“what if she likes someone else?” jisung complains.

he thinks, he’ll be alright.

he has pretended to be his brother before, but never quite becoming him. and spent his whole life knowing that you were in love, he just hoped it was him.

“yeah, right.”

a chuckle escapes him at the thought of you choosing someone else over him. and yet, your confession had only made his feelings worse. if it was donghyuck you wanted, he was sure he would be fine.

he has already spent his whole life touching your lips and imagining kissing them.

ʚïɞ

you fear that you have self-sabotaged. three weeks have passed since that fateful day. two nights replaying the kiss over and over again on your mind. keeping your thoughts off it by studying hadn't worked, and through long days and sleepless nights you could no longer blame icarus anymore for flying right into the sun. not when your mind torments you with a pair of plump lips, soft mouth moving against yours, teasingly roaming. the intoxicating sensation of his tongue impregnated with marijuana.

“keep the change,” you say to the guy at the bar handing you a beer.

before you go looking for the sunny boy, you hear him shout behind your back, “hey! you're one dollar short!”

and you know it, because a: you are an accountant.

and b: inflation is a myth.

you stagger all over the party looking for haechan, a somewhat difficult task when you're a little drunk and you see the doppelganger making out with a girl on the dance floor. you can barely recognize donghyuck let alone the girl he kisses, but it seems that they are quite close because of the way the moon boy lets her run her hands all over him. and you can't help but watch.

he looks as if he wants to say something before being interrupted by needy lips, and between kisses, he finally gives in and you come to realize.

you need to be put away in a psych ward, because ever since, your only longing is to taste his lips again.

your eyes are anchored to both of them as you tell yourself that you should look for haechan, but something feels off. especially when you hear the hum of engines and your own heart, slowing down while bodies cut at high speed on a race in the distance. and it’s not the first or last time you’ll get it all wrong, when he looks apologetic, and you look like a fool, watching him being kissed.

you feel the stupid oppression in your chest when you recognize haechan, and now it's so obvious that it’s him that you feel ridiculous for thinking that he wouldn't be inside another girl's throat as soon as he could. “that motherfucker.”

while haechan's there dancing with her, you end up across the room doing the same thing with a stranger, failing so bad of keeping your eyes from going to him and his attempts of proving something you're aware of.

you fell first. and you fell harder.

the cigarette between his skinny and graceful fingers it's about to end when he smokes the last of it and finally glances at you, not being able to notice that you've been out of the game the moment he made you believed that your kiss meant something.

you're on edge, getting away from the hustle and heading to the dumpster after the race. it relieves you to find it empty, with everyone enjoying themselves at the party. because that way, there is no one to see you cry.

but he always finds you.

he arrives holding a match that he lights up as he proceeds to take the cigarette from his ear.“you owe me a blunt.”

“i'm not in the mood right now…” you start saying, wanting him to keep his distance because you know that if he gets any closer, and you can see his chocolate eyes acknowledging you, you'll probably forget what he’s been doing, starting all over again.

“you seemed pretty in the mood dancing with that douchebag,” he sneers, nonchalant.

and you know deep down it’s just a pretense. he was looking at you too, after all.

“what's your problem?” you shout at him, feeling like you don’t know him. you know him, deeply. he never mean to be cruel, but that was only because you weren’t on the other end ‘til now; you had never been the object of his rejection, because you’d never had your heart broken before. but it hurts anyway, that is your best friend, who ends up doing so.

“you’re my problem.” you fear you’ll love him forever. but you fear most that you won’t like him anymore. “ i didn't ask to be this hot, yn.”

“did you ask to be this idiotic?”

he thinks, “not that i remember, no.”

“then go back to her,” you wave at him, but he just come closer.

“god, yn, you can’t be fucking serious right now.” the notice comes as a stunner. you see him with wide eyes making a frustrated face; his eyebrows draw together and his gaze becomes ravenous, as if a hundred thoughts and emotions are coming at him faster than he can cope. “stop messing with me.”

the question seems so charged, that you’re not able to come with a quick answer, “i didn't ask you to follow me.”

“no, you didn't. you also didn't want me to leave you alone with jeno, and then you were eating his nose.”

“so it's okay if you do it but god forbid if i kiss someone.” you ask, cornered.

“because kissing doesn't mean anything to me,” he dares to excuse himself, thinking it will make you feel better, but in reality, after that night you two kissed, it doesn't.

you roll your eyes, “you're unbelievable.”

“really, me? for the past weeks i’ve been losing my mind, and it’s all your fault. ” the breathless anticipation makes your heartbeat wild. and the seconds —where everything becomes thicker, the confession still suspended in the air, causes something to shift in his gaze.

when he approaches, you're unable to move away. his eyes catch you, and you can't look anywhere else, because you want to gaze at him. “what do you wanna know huh? d'you want to know if i kissed her? i did. i kissed her to know if i could like her. and i couldn't.”

your mouth feels pasty, your limbs barely respond. haechan's eyes look at you and your stomach become a mess of bugs that don't let you think. all you want to say is why did you kiss me? why did you make it seem special? why does it seem like bugs turned into butterflies because they know first what you don't?

you look at him with pure disbelief, and he's so aggravated that you think you need to let him vent whatever it is that's troubling him “if i hit on you you reject me, and if i don’t you get mad at me.”

“how’s that my fault?!”

“because you make it impossible and i can’t do it anymore. i’m tired of the movie nights, the way you walk into my room without knocking or leave your things all over the place like you live there. waking me up to crawl into my bed at 4 am because you had a nightmare, or asking me to zip up your dress for a date with some other guy and knowing i don’t get to have a chance.”

he lets out a jagged breath, and his eyes darkened the moment you feel your lips dry. “well i didn’t know i was annoying, and i’m sorry my life has been an inconvenience to you. i guess i’m also tired of guessing WHY MY FRIEND SUDDENLY HATES BEING AROUND ME!”

“because you’ve ruined everything!”

“how did i ruin everything?! you’re the one who’s been acting weird.”

he’s perplexed, “because of you.”

“what is that supposed to mean?” you fire back.

“i don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

the words hit you like a physical force. you feel the air leave your lungs, a sharp sting behind your eyes as the friendship you’ve built your life around starts to crumble in real-time. it comes and goes in echoes. you blink. you blink again and he just stays the same; flushed, breathless…, and overwhelmingly troubled.

“is that so?” maybe you've lost yourself these last few days. but he’s right; him, looking troubled, has ruined this life of a showgirl for you. “anything else you want to pin on me?”

“actually, yes! you turned my plug in to the police, didn’t you?”

“why would i do that? you can't even go through withdrawal without crying.”

“to make me suffer more.”

“more?” distraught, he breathes heavily, and it is like watching a work of art in distress. “how am i making you suffer? you’re the one who doesn’t want to be my friend anymore…”

he is destructive, and keeps you from thinking straight. consuming, he steps closer and clouds your thoughts. “i want you.” he says, and kisses you.

his expert movements steal your breath and clutter your senses. his taste is so addictive that you find yourself opening your lips to catch his, soft and plump, welcoming you. ever since you and he kissed in your room, the only thing you had done was to be haunted by his mouth over yours. but when he looks like he’s under a spell while kissing you, and he urges you to caress him, you know you were not the only one yearning for this.

you feel his fingers around yours, guiding them to his neck where everything falls silent behind him, everything except your thoughts. everything but your emotions. you’re afraid you’ve loved him since the day you first kissed.

he grins against your lips, and you've never stopped to think about how much it affects you to see him like that. how much it turns you on. he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, until your mouth fits his perfectly as you catch his lower lip. he lets out a whimsical sound. his hands keep you closer to his body and you lose track of everything around you, wanting to melt in this moment, in his arms.

you feel your whole being crumble and buzz with intensity. haechan tastes your lips and your mouth opens to his commands. you melt into his embrace, warm and welcome, you can almost feel it crackle.

you’re burning.

“do you smell that?” you ask, and haechan keeps kissing you as he shakes his head.

he separates from you reluctantly and shines like a blazing sun. his warm and drunken eyes blink slowly, before you take into consideration that haechan usually doesn't dazzle you like this. he isn’t usually covered in a halo that highlights his locks and turns them into honey. only in your dreams.

the cargo burst into flames, turning his hair golden for a second before it detonates in an explosion.

you sense his astonishment even without seeing him.

the blazing cargo illuminates your faces covered in horror, taking him a few seconds to react, “there was nobody inside, right?”

“nobody.”

“what about the cars?”

you think through. “i think i don't like this game anymore. shall we play another one?”

“hit and run?” he suggests, still disoriented when you grab his hand.

“sounds good.” and run away with him before someone find out you were there.

ʚïɞ

you knew exactly what to do, but in a much more real sense you had no idea what to do.

you and haechan only had one day to think about it, and you? you had one night to stop being a virgin.

i mean…

his body press you against the wall when he guides you to his bedroom, dimly lights from the city coming through the drawn curtains. haechan fills you with soft touches, callous hands roaming your waist and back, prompting you towards him. and during all of this, he doesn’t stop kissing you. he feels cozy, adjusting the pace he moves, slow alnd calm over your lips. full, soft mouth colliding with yours when his tongue twirl just as he deepens the kiss.

“wanna smoke?”

his mesmerizing movements take you a kind of memory, and you can't wait when he lights the cigarette and inhales the smoke to bring him closer to you and smash your mouth with his.

you’re out of breath by nothing but his presence, looming over your body. he lifts your shirt and your stomach flutter violenty just as he leaves your lips to take another puff before pressing his mouth on yours again.

the smoke enters your system and rises to your already drunken head. your breaths intermingle in the middle while your whole inside burns and falls apart, and suddenly you're not able to be in your own skin, burning when he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you.

“haechan, i never had sex.” the words come out of you in a whisper, feeling your neck burn with the gravity of a thousand suns when haechan looks at you, eyes tinted with intense perplexity.

this is humiliating.

and humbling.

and so character development arch.

“say something.”

you bite your lips when it crosses your mind that you've entered a dangerous territory, but you're too intoxicated to find your way out. “you’ve never had sex.”

his voice is merely a low murmur against your lips, and while your eyes try to search for his, they stay lowered, fixed on your mouth when you pronounce. “technically, touching yourself doesn't count,” you try to mend your confession, making him see you're not completely unaware of desire and needs, yet you soon discover it wasn’t the best choice.

you dare to look at him to find his eyes like two cesspools staring at you, “you've touched yourself?”

“yes, genius. are you gonna repeat everything i say?” you roll your eyes, bugged. and perhaps timid.

your breath freezes in your throat when haechan holds your chin so you look at him straight in the eyes and get lost. he's so handsome, you're sure you could kiss him until it hurts.

“what about mingi? shotaro?” he mentions, and in each of them you shake your head. “jeno?”

“no,” you hush.

“why?”

“your brother kind of ruined the moment. anyway, it's not like i don't want to lose it, it just... things happen when i try. i'm seriously believing that i have a curse…, oh! oh, my god. remember my cousin? the one from the island? well, she's into esotericism, and once we fought because i stole her boyfriend or whatever, and she told me that i was going to pay for it, well, look, virgin at twenty-four. ”

you see his moles despite the dim light. his pupils consume his iris as he looks at you with an indescribable smirk burning his rosy lips.

your hands cover your face, escaping his gaze, “oversharing much?” you ask in a muffled sound, as you let him uncover your face.

“it’s alright, never keeping quiet has its upsides.”

“like what?”

“you always end up making a sound…”

when he leans over, your hands grab his face. your fingertips burn on his soft cheeks, keeping him close. his lips collide with yours over and over, until it turns into deep, honeyed kisses.

rising in intensity, your interior turns into melted delight.

his breath hits your face and your mouth tingles for more. “but i'm a little hurt you didn't asked me.”

you were certain that you'd end up marrying each other. he's your best friend after all…

oh, my god.

you can't believe it took you five years and a terrible first kiss with him to come to the conclusion that a couple of puffs in his apartment tonight had made him get to it.

“i… thought you were gay.” you blame the narcotics in your bloodstream, and most of all, you blame him for looking so charming and breathtaking, agitated by having kissed him so much and with swollen lips as proof of this.

“i'm not gay,” he states, frowning and grimacing funny. “hello?” his gaze falls downward, and your eyes follow them to admire the prominent bulge in his pants.

you flatter the view under haechan's prideful smug, and your cheeks… they just turn warmer.

“do you…?”

“oh, yes. about that,” he chuckles, guilty. “i hope it doesn't bother you that i've already lost it.”

“right…” you trail off at the provision of unsolicited information and he looks at you as if words are written on your face.

“oh! you meant if i had condoms on?” he goes back in track to your true intentions, reaching his back pocket, but you’re just a little curious on the side plot.

“was it our english teacher?”

“how did you know?” he asks, amazed.

“a hunch.”

that whore…

he gives you a cool look, “don’t be jealous. i’ve slept with plenty of women but i have reformed myself for you,” he declares, drawing you closer.

he can’t be fucking serious…

you consider killing him, just as someone opens the door.

“there you are.” jaemin appears in the doorway with his silhouette cut by the light of the room, forming somber shadows on his face.

“shit, you do have a curse.”

“something’s weird here.” he squints at both of you, still embraced, in the dark, and yet what catches his attention is the smell hanging in the air. “are there drugs here?”

“wha- no. never,” you assure.

“if they are… you better give them to me,” haechan mocks under jaemin's relentless gaze, so he soon drops the act. “it's a joke! now if you mind, i was teaching yn why she can't print more money to fight inflation, so…” he attempts to close the door but jaemin puts his foot on the way.

that’s when you notice. the presence of the other members, getting comfortable in the living room.

jaemin separates from you when the door rings, and when donghyuck and jeno join the impromptu meeting, you and haechan look at each other.

you're fucked.

they know.

ʚïɞ

truth was, they didn't know.

but all you could do for now was pretend long faces in surprise when the others told that the truck had exploded, and that all the vehicles but two weren't safeguarded in the cargo truck.

“who smokes near a leak?” liz asks, with her arms crossed while she tries to lift everyone's spirits.

“right?” haechan says, bluffing.

his brother next to him gives him a look just as you tag along, “and we cannot involve the police in this. it's illegal racing, after all. what a shame, really.”

chaeyoung weighs your words, just as jisung enters the room looking a little excited in contrast to the gloomy vibe. “i got the cctv!”

in his hands he holds a videotape that he soon pretends to put on the tv. “sorry, what?” you pronounce with difficulty, shooting your eyes to haechan.

“evidence,” he chants with the most obvious tone. that little engineer demon.

the only thing that gives you some peace and keeps you from going into extreme panic and vomiting and crying, is that at least haechan will be on your side when it happens.

“yn! you're there, look!” said guy points at the screen, and makes all eyes fall on you.

“that doesn't mean anything. she doesn't even smoke,” donghyuck says, looking closely as haechan appears in the image.

you feel lowkey rare to see yourself committing a crime when everyone is also witnessing you and haechan kissing.

“wait… is that you, donghyuck?” liz squints at the screen, followed by haechan.

“it kinda looks like him, yeah.”

“haechan.” you call his name, tired of seeing him try to save his own skin.

in response, the sunny boy smiles guiltily before going to your side. “i had to try. sorry you don't have a twin sister. in another life, perhaps,” he says, scrunching his nose at you.

silence settles when the guilty already have a face… two faces. faces of not knowing what to do now that they had been discovered.

“at least we're glad nothing happened to you,” chaeyoung says, going to you and stroking your sides. “accidents happen.”

“what about the cars, doll?” jeno asks to chaeyoung, looking calmly bored.

“i'm pretty sure you'll figure,” she says, using one of her fake smiles.

you wish you could take that and take it for granted. go home and leave it in the past, but as the sentimental that you are, you can't. and haechan sees it coming way before you open your mouth.

he mouthes a clear denial just as you say, “we'll pay for the cars!”

“what— we?” he says, intoning the latter.

“i'm really sorry… i-…” well, it was easier to pretend that it was your fault when no one knew. now their good graces was suffocating, and as you share looks with everyone in the room, and come to realize what a bad person you were going to do, you have no choice but to drag someone with you, because you will continue to be one. “he made me do it!”

ʚïɞ

“this is a bad idea.”

“you're kidding? this is the best idea ever!” he strokes your sides as if that’s gonna make you feel any better…

it does.

he leans on the van. from his rosy mouth comes steam that disperses through the street with a single bulb. his nose and cheeks have taken on a warm hue that reaches his brown eyes, gazing at the stars before prompting both of you to the threshold of the door.

“so this is the place you know?”

“yes. he's a friend of mine, i'm sure he'll accept.”

you weren’t so sure how he was gonna do that, but given haechan’s antics, he always get what he wants, so…

“no.”

the man who opens the door for you has tattoos covering the length of his arms, which he crosses over his broad chest. he’s wearing a tank top and has a cigarette behind his ear, along with another one between his lips. written on his collarbone is what is probably his name, unless... he likes the name johnny.

“what do you mean no?” haechan looks at the man and his mouth can't help but open a little in awe.

“dude, our plug's being investigated, we can't risk it.”

“that's literally why i brought her,” haechan says, obviously. “have you seen her ride? c'mon my jonh doe, the police won't bother to check an old nanny's van. no offense.”

he seems like he's going to say no, emphatically. “shit, i don't know man. i have to check with the boss.”

“please, don't bring the boss into this,” haechan pleas with a sigh.

the two men come and go on with their nonsense until you grow tired, “i'll talk to the boss myself!” your state makes both of them quiet.

while the tall boy nods, surprised, haechan looks at you with open eyes. “sweetheart, leave these matters to me.”

“i mean, what's the fuss? bring me the man!” you wave your hand to dispatch the man in search of the boss while your gaze reviews his possible appearance. if that stereotype of beauty and muscle was his lackey, you could only imagine the man behind the scenes.

haechan holds on to your arm as if you've just made the worst blunder of your life, and you probably had. you were raised by christians on an island that was too peaceful for your taste. like the kind of island where the only accidents involve bicycles, or where the worst act of vandalism is skipping school to go swimming. you were pretty surprised by the low number of teenage pregnancies while you were growing up, as if the education there was quite good once you moved to the sin city. you mean, it never occurred to you to do drugs, if you think about it. you've never considered it.

and now you’re thinking of selling it?

haechan's eagerness had begun to creep up on you when you finally heard a throat clearing. in front of you, a twink boy wore a gold chain that probably weighed down his neck. “you're… the man?”

“call me renjun. and let's talk about business.”

as events unfold, you and haechan keep an eye on johnny loading your van with a single big bag, although you're more interested in the flexing of his muscles to realize late that this is what it is about.

“it only bought us one bag? can’t imagine why people go broke for drugs,” you mutter, caughting renjun’s attention.

“that’s just a quarter of what you’ve bought. here comes the rest,” he replies without looking at you. instead, he stares at the line of guys bringing bag after bag to your van.

you see how your car is smuggled to the brim without a word on the matter, because in the end, it was your idea. “so, that will buy us two sport cars,” haechan inquires.

“define sport cars,” renjun replies, giving him a look, “herbie’s a sport car.”

you both look at each other blankly when neither seems to remember the model of the car. “the one you mentioned, is it good?”

“i don't know about cars, sweetheart. you said to give you the expensiest. all i know is that 10 grands by direct line and without commission can make 70 grands if you sell it all.” you and haechan look at each other at that statement.

“you're very good at finance.”

“i don't know about finance. i know about drugs.”

“yes, but think that you're selling sport cars by import and you must pay taxes and so on. it's the same calculation.”

renjun looks at you before turning to haechan, “good luck selling coke with heidi's grandma.” before walking back inside the house.

you're a little taken aback by his comment, and when you hit the road with 10 pounds of drugs, realization finally strikes you. “d'you think he was talking about gertrude?” haechan takes his eyes off the rearview mirror to give you an amused look.

“i sincerely doubt it, honey,” he ends up mumbling.

you had left the compound a while ago and taken the highway, but the sunny boy kept looking back every few seconds, clearly feeling persecuted. you, on the other hand, were more than thrilled. “oh, my god, relax! it's not like i'm going over the speed limit.” you roll your eyes, watching him lean back in his seat.

“5 years for consumption and possession, and 5 to 2 life sentences for sale. with a first-time offender reduction to 2 to 5 years, or 1 life sentence,” haechan recites, as if saying it out loud could somehow calm him down.

he looks a little unwell, so you stroke his knee. “we’re like bonnie and clyde,” you add, with endearment.

you hope you weren't forcing him to do this with you. you admit that most of the problems you had growing up together were caused by you, and he simply followed your lead.

“can i be clyde?” he quietly asks.

it's hard to believe that he's not the biggest bad influence among you.

maybe there were other ways to get money, like a 9 to 5 or something like that, but the truth was that extreme situations required extreme measures.

the thing about parties is that you never know where the next one will be. it could be on a duck, or in some old factory. it could also be, on the apartment next door.

after driving around in the van a couple of times, the message from the ring lights up the cell phone screen like a eureka moment. the boy’s apartment, where else can you sell drugs if not in a place where drugs are not allowed?

you squint when you enter the dark alley of your residency complex, “d’you forget your glasses?” haechan wonders before you hum a ‘no’.

“is that…?” looking closely, haechan leans on the board while you watch a blond man looking over his shoulder as he quickens his pace, “look! jisung.” you slow down the van a little until you are alongside him, but before you can roll down the window and announce yourself, the boy looks toward the vehicle.

the peculiar action makes him alert enough to open his eyes, startled.

“nah, not again,” you hear him mutter before sprinting off, seconds before he could see you or the look of surprise on your face.

you slowly turn toward haechan, both of you looking stunned. you were unaware that after lessons on personal safety, he’d heed your advice.

“they grow so fast…”

“you taught him well,” haechan assures after, looking fatherly.

ʚïɞ

it seemed that being guilty was something one could see and feel because why are you both standing in the doorway, like two outcasts, feeling the weight of your actions finally yielding to the gravity of your crimes?

mark stops in his tracks to give you a judgmental glance while taking a sip from a full bottle of johnny walker. “whatever you're up to, keep me out of it.”

haechan comes out of his shell. shrugs his shoulders and smugly teases, “did you hear that, pretty? no weed for mark.”

to a certain extent, you find the reaction it provokes in the poor boy amusing. and even more so when you part ways with them, leaving them in the midst of an argument which, seen from afar, looks almost comical.

as you get deeper and deeper into the party, your apprehensions begin to grow. if your past self could see you right now, she would be mortified. but a part of you, the boring girl who grew up on jeju, who had her first kiss at eighteen in the backseat of gertrude with his best friend, who has not lost her virginity yet, she was honestly starting to annoy you.

how could you do this? it's not like there's a manual to sell drugs. should you just… apapproach people? which people?

“hey.”

“hi!” okay, it's as if you're putting a lot of effort into getting caught. maybe you should act more laid back. “i mean, hey.”

liz and chenle approach you as if they were joined at the waist. “have you seen jisung? i want to make sure he arrived safely.”

“why you baby him so much?” chenle asks, raising an eyebrow and sporting a smirk.

your eyes open in surprise, “i don't!” then your cheeks light up and you giggle coquettishly, “okay, i do. i can't help but feel maternal since i kinda dated his older brother,” you mention with a funny face, tapping the boy in the shoulder to lighten up the mood.

oh, yes, mingi. great hookup, the little you know about law you learned from the lessons he gave you between kisses.

unfortunately, he really liked teaching.

“you dated my older brother?”

when jisung appears behind you with his features bathed in confusion you think you're having a mini heart attack while the others react with a drawn-out “oh”.

that is, until you remember your last resort of persuasion. “jisung, how many times do we have to tell you not to listen to private conversation?”

he looks so surprised that is quite charming. “you're right sorry,” he suddenly apologizes, his cheeks flushed.

maybe you are a bit of a chatterbox, but can you be blamed? when looking for a viable alternative to improve your mood, you end up having a couple of piña coladas in the company of chaeyoung. “the placebo effect of piña coladas is crazy, don't you think? ” you ask her as she leans against the wall next to you. “it really feels like it has alcohol in it.”

“because it does.”

“no, it doesn’t, fool…” you grimace in incredulity before your gaze travels toward the dark-haired man coming in your direction, and even though you have kissed him before, you kinda feel keen. you also feel that he’s haunting you because of the car you burned the other night by accident.

“d’you think he’s still mad at me?”

“i don’t think so, no. but… hard to say, though,” chaeyoung chants. “good luck.”she says before she runs away from you.

jeno and all his male energy push you against the wall, like a negative gravitational field. and you find yourself stuttering like the first time. “look, about your car…”

“about the car…” you both interrupt each other, and when he grins amusing, you find it fanciful, but not in a playful way; more of a chilling nervousy.

you notice a bruise that you decide to look past and fear for your life.

“i was thinking, maybe you can pay me in other ways.” his chiseled features contrast with his crescent eyes when he smiles sideways.

“please don’t burn my van.”

his laughter sounds sharp like a knife, but that is until it reaches his eyes, shinning. then it sounds appealingly comfortable to you.

“i mean a date.”

“oh.”

oh.

it feels like all your teenage dreams are slowly coming true somehow, and you don't know if you like it or not. as if you can't help saying yes, and you hate yourself for it because most of your rendezvous have started and ended like this. with you, figuring out you’ll never get drunk and kiss strangers again, crash at a party and wander aimlessly. you’ll end up always, looking for a taste of sun.

forever wondering if he feels the same, if you would dare to go out with him knowing how much he hates commitment. if you could be selfish, for the last time, and have him now.

you giggle, “excuse me for a second.” before you leave jeno as if going to a commercial break, running away, or maybe just running, to him.

amidst the hustle you think seeing him everywhere, going towards him only to watch him walking away.

square back and shoulder blades move under his shirt when he runs his fingers through his chocolate-colored hair. the lights outlines his profile every time he looks back, as if he knew you would follow him wherever he went. and you’re overwhelmed by the idea that you probably would, even when he’s so far away and yet so close from you to have his laughter reaching your ears.

but he's not who you're expecting.

it amazes you how they can be the alike and yet not resemble each other at all. he, who looks back over his shoulder. he, with his smokey eyes and dangerous smile. long, dark hair styled downward with strands falling over hisforehead. sounding identical but with a different undertone. silver-colored. lunar.

“sweetpea.” normally you're the one who does all the talking for both of you, but since that night, you've been avoiding him in the same way you will avoid jaemin tonight.

you know how much of a bad influence donghyuck is. more so, he races illegally and you bet he evades taxes just like his brother gets stoned —completely unforeseen if you ask, giving the fact that haechan is a nerdy cool who deceives appearances. anyway, he was the one doing all that kind of illicit things like battery when you were teenagers; you start to think that the summer camp he went to as a kid was actually a juvenile detention.

from as far back as you can remember, you have always wanted to win his attention. but mostly, you've always been afraid of the idea of been willing to wait for him forever rather than having him just now.

and that the unconscious reason is because you are out of his league. you’re sorry for staring for too long, for finding comfort in his features even if it is fleeting. you regret always reminisce haechan every time you look at him like this.

“hyuck, your face.” because of the colored lights cascading down his features, the bruises on his cheek and lip had barely gone unnoticed, but given how close he was and looking at him more intently, they seemed freshly made. moreover, they matched jeno’s.

“it’s not that bad,” he replies, “did you get into trouble again?” the tone of his voice sounds strangely playful, because nothing escapes him, not even you.

donghyuck —who surely had worse injuries, used to treat your wounds over his. his looked painful compared to your scrapes when you wanted to ride a bike; you were 7 years old and haechan used to mocked you for not knowing how to.

he always had a way of distracting you away from his problems. maybe it was also your fault for letting it happened.

“can you keep a secret?” there was no way he’d tell you how he got into a fight, because you’ve tried before, so you decide to let it slide… mostly because you were in fact, in trouble.

your hand reaches into your pocket under his gaze, slowly beginning to show signs of delight.

“d’you have a gun?”

you see him raise his hands in defense, and when he smirks, he doesn't look like haechan at all. he just looks like donghyuck.

“no— why would i have a gun?” **

if it's not for pointing at your own head for doing ilicit stuff.

“i just assumed it… drugs are less likely since you informed on haechan’s dealer.”

your face, surely an edvard munch’s work of art. “wha—no i didn’t!”

how on earth did he find out about that?

“so you do have drugs. what if jaemin finds out? better, what if the police show up and you have a pound of narcotics on you?” he smiles when he talks, but gradually stops doing so.

“shh!—”

shame and common sense are the things you lack the most and sometimes you forget that you shouldn't show them off too much.

“sweetpea, please tell me this isn’t your way to buy the cars…”

“because it’s clever?” you ask, shrugging.

he pokes your chin with his thumb. “it’s stupid. i wonder what haechan did to convince you to do this,” he says, before seeing the reality bathing his features in realization, because he didn’t.

“well, if you put it like that…”

if you put it like that, it was stupid.

and little by little, you recall how bonnie and clyde concluded their journey.

“oh, my god. what am i going to do?”

little by little, realization hits you like a truck and now you see the consequences of your actions.

“hey, sweetpea,” donghyuck sighs heavily, and you notice the hint of mockery, causing you to stare at him the moment a tender smile blooms on his lips. “leave it to me.” his gaze disappears into the crowd and you feel like you're losing him too, just for a few seconds, almost for eternity. “meet me later.”

“where?”

“pick a place. i’ll find out.”

when you see him leave, you are left with a strange feeling that something is missing.

what were you about to do?

oh yes, confess your feelings to haechan.

ʚïɞ

looking among the faces, among the sea of people, you find him dancing. and as so many times before and so many times since, the searching feels endless, so far away and yet so close at times. you never knew how to appreciate when you could count his eyelashes without getting nervous, because it never happened. there’s no version of you that is not in love with him. and because life is too short, and the police could arrive at any moment and arrest you, you don't want to waste any more of it. the wait, the wait seems endless.

mark is beside him, kissing his puffy cheek despite his complaints, even though he seems to like it because he blushes; his coy friend must be high as a kite because not in a million years would he ever say “i love you.” at the top of his lungs.

you must be high too, you guess, throwing yourself without a parachute, falling in his arms.

his lips, your lips, meet with magnetism. he tastes like cherry and vanilla soda. crushingly so, he makes havoc on you. and the sounds he makes only makes you a fool, full of him.

he finds himself laughing against your mouth and it taste like sunbeams. with your mouth over his, and him over you, his firm grip gives you butterflies. receptively, you end up cornered in the bathroom sink.

full, pouty lips collide against yours, so smooth yet charged. your fingers dig into his hair and haechan stifles a intimate sigh in your mouth. brushing slowly, he hums and send shivers down your spine.

“yn, why do you have drugs in your bra?”

how his hand ended up there without you noticing?

“oh, i figured that if jaemin ever catches us, he's not going to look there,” you whisper against his lips between kisses.

you hoped not, at least.

the small package falls to the floor when he removes his hands, and you both look at it before haechan breaks the kiss to pick it up. dazed by the sound of his lips separating from yours, you watch him furrow his eyebrows.

“… did they put cocaine in us?” haechan accuses, and it takes you a while to shake his dazzling effect on you, to grab the small plastic bag he hands you.

“shouldn't they?” you ask, fearful.

“well, that's a more serious issue than getting caught selling marijuana.”

“how serious?”

he makes a face that just makes you nervous, but when he looks at you all concerned, he doesn't say anything at all…, because someone comes into the bathroom.

someone like jaemin.

“why are you, suddenly, in the most unexpected places, alone, lately?”

he crosses his arms, accusingly, and that's probably what makes you squeeze the plastic bag a little too hard and end up with a burst of dust on your shirt. “shit.”

haechan's back is wide enough for you to hide behind and away from jaemin's attentive gaze, but that doesn't do much when it looks like a coke bomb has exploded on you. and even when you do your best to hide it, sensing his heavy presence behind your back makes you feel persecuted.

as far as you are concerned, the boy is a sweetheart, he even looks like a war machine of affection. that doesn't take away from the fact that he takes out half a head of the sunny boy, and that he's strong enough so that haechan can't stand up to him.

and while haechan desperately tries to stop the boy from looking at you and get him out of the bathroom, this irrational fear of jaemin only makes you do the first thing that comes to mind, the most conventional way to get rid of this kind of evidence: by inhaling it.

this is why your parents tell you ‘say no to drugs.’ by the way.

a cough assaults you non-stop as you feel your nose burning, and haechan turns around with wide, dazed eyes to see you losing your mind. “what did you do?” he murmurs, drawing you towards him to comfort you, but all you can feel is your senses moving away from your body, and your soul suspended in limbo.

a burning sensation rises from your nose to your brain, where arson explodes. you drift off for a few seconds, and everything goes dark. their voices and the conversation they’re having get distorted before everything comes back to you all at once, like an adrenaline rush.

“is she alright?” jaemin tries to look at you but haechan blocks his view.

“of course she is. she just exceeded the fun limit…”

the two of them stare at each other for what seems like an forever, seeing who will give in first in the staring contest that you want to join, because you're sure you would win; you can't even feel your eyes anymore.

“keep her out of the piñas coladas,” jaemin suggests letting the boy in front of you breathe a sigh of relief when he looks like he’ll leave you alone. but ultimately, he turns around in the doorway and haechan flinches. “nice lipstick, yn,” he says, glancing at the dark-haired man before finally leaving.

leaning against the door, haechan runs a hand through his hair before recalling one of the minor issues in his repertoire of problems. “how are you feeling? talk to me.” he seems on the verge of collapse despite the fact that it was you who inhaled a good amount of strong drug to save your skin from a reprieve, which, seeing it with new eyes, it was never that serious.

“i feel good.” a laughter assails you under his gaze, checking on you. “i could run a marathon right now, actually.”

“you've never run a marathon before.”

oh, but you could.

even though you've started sweating from the fright, you feel hyperactive as usual, your heart has probably skipped two or three beats, and you seem short of breath. you feel great. those are just the usual effects of having him so close. “i’m lowkey waiting for the drug to take effect,” you announce, hazy.

the electricity that runs through you is because he looks eternally handsome. so domestic and comforting. his soft and chiseled features looks so angelic under certain lights that you feel your heavy gaze starting to melt. it feels like staring directly at the sun. “i think they've already started…” because of the hot bathroom air, his cheeks and lips have been dyed wine, but it's your lipstick on his lips that brings you to kiss him again.

his bedroom eyes consumed by his pupils stare attentively at you. and if you think about it, he's alright.

haechan laughs, “thanks.”

when you kiss him, it seems that a thousand butterflies have hatched in your stomach and you only feel their violent fluttering. it had never felt so much as it does now. so unbearable. you're breathless when his tongue brushes your lower lip, and the flavors of cocaine dusting your mouth makes him sigh.

even though your lips are on his, moving in sync, soaking breaths and sighing, it's not enough. you can't stop the avalanche of longing that assails you. when you taste his mouth, your heart pumps love that drains through your veins, and covers your entire body. you want him with you. you want him now.

“sleep with me.”

he clings to your body and presses a kiss on your forehead, “yes.”

as your heart beats slowly and the air begins to feel thin, you find yourself waiting. from your first kiss to your first love, it has always been him. you hope he knows; every piece of your life is touched by him. he’s the meassure of all the things that has happened to you and it makes you afraid to think that you're alone in this because you weren't any of his first times.

you see his back and shoulders, his highlighted hair, his profile looking back to see if you're still there, to see if you're still following him, as if holding hands isn't enough and he needs to make sure.

you're on edge, feeling his fingers around yours as he guides you out of the party and everything falls silent behind him, everything except your thoughts. everything but your emotions.

intimate, he guides you to his room, and when the door closes, your fingers are still intertwined, even when you’re alone and there’s no people you could possibly get lost with. his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you toward him. in the dark, you are laid down on the comfortable surface of his bed.

his voice just makes you want to follow him, to the edge. “are you sure you’re not having a stroke?”

his scent lingers a little longer; it’s all over his room, along with your thoughts. you’re heavily intoxicated, and still, all you can think about is him. him. him. your mouth tingles, your mind hasn't been quiet since then. this is the greed they spoke of in the bible.

you shake your head, unable to talk, because if you do, you fear that all you can say is his name. and then he would know, and you would be lost forever.

wet and dreamy eyes, honey lips. you’re sunburned. because it looks like he already knows. you're afraid that you're just stuck being the friend who gets kissed from time to time. you're afraid of becoming the one he uses when there's no one else around.

above all, you're lowkey afraid it doesn't sound so bad.

“oh, they’re kicking now.” you grab your head with no critical thinking, and he chuckles, getting up. you see him roaming around the room, opening his closet and searching under the bed, but in the end, he doesn't seem to find the pot he's probably looking for.

“i’ll be right back.” he avoids your gaze ans you are thankful that the gloom prevents him from seeing you or your features.

“you’re leaving?” you ask —when it’s so obvious, stopping him at the door.

haechan hums, “i’ll go grab something.”

words hang on your tongue, yet your mind repeats them over and over, as if mocking you.

you think you’re losing your mind, which is fine, because you’ve sold your soul already to a gang.

time thickens and so your thoughts. and your feelings, all scattered in the room slowly come back to you.

when he gets back, you think you've given the matter a few good turns.

“now, before we start i want you to promise that you won’t print your way out of this cause—” his features are tinged with surprise when you grab him and pull him toward you. lips forming an ‘o’ before he comes toward you and presses his mouth against yours. he’s cold, fingers leaving a wake of chill when they touch your waist to pull you closer.

a low sound escapes him when you pull him close to you. it only takes a moment to pass for a star to explode and be consumed, only an instant when the same thing happens to you. your mind is cluttered by the way he reacts of you kissing him.

his hands cradle your face, and after long seconds that dissolve between breaths, the cold isn't so bad anymore. your head spins and you're back in your childhood home, chasing someone. when he kisses you more intently, he slips through your fingers. but his mouth leave a trace on your neck, and for a moment it feels as if you’ve finally achieved it.

you’re moonburned.

your fingers run through his hair, your lips collide with his mouth, and he breathes just as he guides your hands to touch him again. and you are caressing his cheeks, and pulling him closer to you, fighting the strange feeling he’ll escape away.

pressing you against the desk, he helps you lean over it. your legs wrap around his waist, your hands pull him closer to you, and he simply lets you guide him between your tighs, consuming your senses. exposed skin being caressed, his lips travel down to your neck when you freeze.

he’s touching your scar and staring at you with glassy eyes when you pulled apart, and see.

because he’s the one who’s been your first kiss all this time.

the room turns into a black hole, filled with heavy breathing, and the horrible reason why he has avoided the bed. looking at each other, with mouth bruised and swoony eyes, failing miserably at looking away once you've seen it.

“you’re not him.”

you search his face for answers and find none of the cunning you might accuse him of. no triumph, no calculation, and slowly, the truth settles in. he didn’t kiss you to deceive you. he kissed you because he believed you were kissing him.

you take in his face, all the beauty he only wears in fragments. same eyes, same mouth. he is alluring, but he’s not beautiful. without the way warmth blooms in you, the heart knows immediately who it is not.

avoiding thinking that for a split second, you wouldn’t notice if he hadn't touched your scar.

moving up and down with the rise and fall of his chest, you suddenly notice how close his body is to yours, and you feel him pressing against you. “does it matter if i’m not him?” he breathes, holding your eyes the most terrible way.

because it matters now.

it hadn’t been haechan who found you that night, he didn’t regretted it and came back to you. he didn’t find you in the car, donghyuck did, in the same way as now. and you hadn't noticed because you were crying your eyes out.

those same honey-colored eyes, only shinier, drunk, but not with wine. it only takes a moment to realize that it's because of you.

people tend to gaze at haechan as if he was the sun, because he’s all jokes and blushing cheeks, silly scientific facts and magic tricks, but with donghyuck, people tend to gaze away, maybe because they’re afraid of the feelings he elicits, perhaps for the same reason you gasp for air, because it's something that you simply can't put into words... because you don't know them.

donghyuck, whose secrets hold secrets, and for whom you spent an entire summer convincing yourself to stop crushing over, looks at you and it's as if it reveals everything.

everything you hadn't been able to see, because you were busy falling for someone else. you'd take some time to bask in the glory, but when his mouth frown and open, your senses turn off, and you find yourself kissing him again.

he lifts you up, and a second later you're pressed against him and your legs are weak. your senses block out whatever is happening up there in your head because you're a little high. kissing him back, you feel like you could enjoy his warmed hands on your waist more if it weren't for the uneasy gnawing hole opening up in your stomach.

he kisses your mouth and there you are, once again, waiting. a change in your heart, a hunch. and yet… “you’re not haechan,” you repeat.

your heart lingers, scanning empty spaces, waiting for a sound, a knock, a miracle that might split the moment open. but nothing shifts. the air stays still. the door stays closed.

unfinished, your inyeon with haechan is perhaps wanting something so badly that you end up ruining what you already have. stuck in a loop that goes back and forth, where he drags this forever.

the only thing that keeps coming back is his lips on yours, over and over again.

time is running out, you're about to lose him forever. and yet once again, all your eyes do is land on donghyuck, looking as if he wants to say something that will change your mind.

but would it have changed anything?

he grins sideways, and you start to fear what he might say without tact. that he might be mean and cruel, that he might mock you because you're pathetic and that anything haechan had done to make you feel bad in the past, he could be worse.

but the eyes always give him away. he’s never been good at being heartless. he’s never been cruel to you. not when he treated that nasty wound when you were little. nor when he's always around when the things haechan does somehow get to you. not now, when he pushes you back and his hands are still gentle. “don’t wait for him. he left a couple of minutes ago,” he confesses, caressing your cheek without sparing a glance as he walks towards the exit.

his hands reach for the doorknob, and the last second, he seems to think it better. giving you one last look, his eyes are heavy with moonlight, “you should probably go before he does something way more stupid than leaving you alone.” when he leaves, pulling the night with him, he doesn't need to explain it; he's talking about the rest of the girls.

“that was rude…” you think to yourself, but after a while, you do what he says.

getting lost at a party or the time where you had everything, you almost lost it because you were afraid to take a leap of faith…

a list of things you swore you’d never do, and yet you had done the most reckless thing of all:

falling for your best friend.

you should have known, when you wished every traffic light were red on your ride here.

so you figured, you’ll never get drunk again and kiss strangers just to get an excuse to sit on his lap and have him close, crash at a party and wander aimlessly and see there’s no trace of him.

you’ll go to your apartment, with your heart racing and wrapped in your hand, only to find him by chance there.

haechan frozes right when you open the door and you both end up looking at each other from across your small room before he dares to excuse himself. “i swear i’m not looking at your panties drawer in a pervert way again…”

there are times when calling him out gives you a boost of good health, and then, in moments like this, you really hope silence conjures up everything you feel.

quiet, his cheeks look vine-colored, and you bet he still smells powdery. he’s so beautiful, it's overbearing; it makes you want to laugh. warmed, you stare at him holding a handful of stuffed animals —your stuffed animals.

a smile blooms on your lips and everything inside you sings before it stops suddenly, “don’t lie, i saw you looking.”

you close the door gently behind you, as if throwing a stone into a lake and hoping it won't make too many ripples that disturb the water. dimly lit, your room feels different tonight. like softened, at the edges. it’s hard for you to take in what he's done. he may not have done anything at all, but you'd still feel it, that tingling sensation, the fluttering in your chest.

it’s been a while since you’ve been friends, and you fear there will be no turning back when everything he touches you turn it into love. it wasn't that his room looked cozier, it was him bringing warmth everywhere, making it feel that way.

piece by piece, you see that he’s made the bed, and by the look of things, you think he has completely misunderstood your intentions, to sleep with him. you believe, either way, that being friends, doesn't bother you at all, if it means he reserves his affection only for you. if his eyes only turn to honey when he's with you.

you figured you’ll always let him come close and play you, mix your feelings and go back to the start, if it means having him forever.

“c’mere, let’s get you ready for bed.”

he grabs your hand and his rings sends shivers down your body, “i don’t want to sleep.” big, brown eyes sparkle when they bath you and you feel yourself blushing.

his voice comes soft and restrained. it warms your whole being, it makes you fuzzy. “what do you want?” in a trance, your body moves on its own. your arms rise and you find yourself holding him close. haechan wraps his arms around your waist and you inhale his scent, overwhelming your senses. powder, vanilla, wood, him. “you.”

pouring, your body is soaked with warmth when you feel him struggling to compose. “sleep with me.”

you had spent a long time fighting against the idea of how much everything he did woke up something in you, not realizing the effect you could have on him when you whispered in his ear. when you pull away to look into his eyes, you discover the most beautiful bedroom eyes you have ever seen.

of all the times you've been left hanging, the way he looks before he kisses you is probably your favorite.

deep, slow, steamed. your mouth opens to receive him, completely carried away by the way his lips move over yours. tongue gently colliding, you’re out of breath. kissing you ardently, full with tangible emotions, like the beating of his heart against your palm. his kisses trail off to the base of your neck, and when you look up at the ceiling, you swear seeing stars coming upon you and blazing your body.

your mind burns and it only goes down further, where his hands rests. “haechan.” you swallow, feeling overwhelmed.

he hums against your neck and you get flustered, following with sighs the path he makes with his fingers to your intimacy. it fills you to the point of overflowing delight and he smiles against your skin. “mmm?” he asks in approval, and it takes you a while to gather the words, “yes.” when his fingers shove down and touch you.

the floor shakes under your feet and he holds you against him as he rocks into you, tracing circles in that delicious, aching spot.

his mouth opens and his warm breath hits your crawling skin before he runs his tongue up to your ear, picking up the sweat, “c’mon yn, let me hear you.” whispering in the most compelling way you’ve ever heard him, your mouth opens and spill enticing sounds. your ears are blessed when you pant at the switch in motion and he laughs airily. your lower belly feels heavy and barely being able to breathe or do anything but grab hold of his shirt, you try not to lose control too quickly.

“such a pretty sound, my baby.”your whole body becomes aroused and desire washes over you from head to toe, making you feel light, stirring your senses and spreading them throughout the room in moans, the moment the cold of one of his rings brushes against your bare skin on his way to push them inside before he suddenly stops.

you feel his presence slip away from you and suddenly feel empty, before you feel his soft lips kiss your cheek. “d’you want to lay down?” when he looks at you, he still remains as handsome as ever. his face is bathed in attention while he stares at you, and you feel sudden shyness at him seeing you like this.

when he brings his fingers to his mouth while keeping his eyes on you, you figured he likes you, “i do.” a complacent smirk spreads across his face as you let him guide you blindly, devouring his mouth. your thighs touch the bed and you end up sitting on the edge with him hovering over you, leaving your lips to draw a path of kisses to your cleavage.

the valley of your breasts receive the caresses he leaves on his way down, where you soon come to terms with what comes next when he stops right at your feet. “yes?” breathlessly, you lean back and you let him put your legs on each shoulder, his nimble fingers taking advantage that you’re raised a few seconds off the mattress to remove your underwear.

your skirt rises and exposes your femininity, and you swear that his eyes light up seconds before he sinks his head between your legs and you swallow a sound. receptively, you arch your back and your legs move upward, taking his hair in your hands. “fucking delicious.” he eats you hungrily, squeezing your sensitive thighs with his fingers and giving you the feeling that the entire universe is bursting in the space between your legs.

you often wonder how everyone puts up with him when he gets this smug and cocky. when he uses his tongue, you finally understand.

“haechan-agh…”

your glassy eyes lands down and take in the light bouncing off the small jewels of your own arousal, and him, nose deep in you, nibbling on that sweet spot, turning you into a whining mess. head tilted back, your eyes flutter at the sensations running through you upward, blazing your mind and numbing your body. it becomes impossible to keep you upright and stop twitching under his paced motions, so you collapse onto the bed and your sight fills with tears.

it explodes deep inside and sends a spasming ripple through your body, making you want to curl up. unable to react, you float in limbo feeling waves of pleasure wash over your intimacy, shaking of your daze when he gives you a last stroke of tongue. his hands runs down your legs from bellow. lifting them up to reach your heels, he leaves kisses on your ankles.

haechan leaves you undone, fuzzy and faded. barely giving you time to recover, you hold your breath as he comes toward you and begins to kiss you urgently.

he tastes of lust and candy, letting you catch your breath just enough to keep up with the pace at which he devours your mouth. he tastes of desperation.

the kisses escalate and you’re between pillows and stuffed animals. in the middle of the bed without knowing how you got there, you welcome him when he positions himself between your legs. “my pretty girl.” his lips feel velvety like the mattress he’s pressing you against, tongue leaving an addictive taste on yours when you open your mouth and give in.

you’re barely sober, intoxicated by the way that no part of your body is left untouched. caresses feeling almost like he’d been waiting to run his hands on you, eyes traveling before his mouth does; when he reaches the scar on your thigh, his fingers pause.

“y’know? you’re usually so open about everything, but you've never told me how you ended up with this scar. or if i've done a good job.” he kisses both of your ankles when removing them while keeping his eyes on your expressions when you nod.

unfortunately, the words get stuck in your throat because his hands start traveling up your thighs again. “nothing to say, honey?”

you shake your head, “i…—” words come out slurred and between sighs. you’re unable to hold his gaze without your eyes feeling heavy. “i would’ve liked to watch you…”

you know you look like a mess. your droopy blouse barely covers your bust and is lifted up to your waist, just like your skirt. your face must be flushed and still bearing the traces of what happened a few seconds ago, but when you see him run his finger over your lower lip before kissing you, you know he must like it.

your fingers get tangled in his shirt and he pulls away just enough for you to remove it. he falls with all his weight on top of you and a sound escapes you as you feel him settle between your legs, your naked core feeling the sturdiness on his jeans.

his mouth leaves wet kisses on your jaw and neck as his hands venture down to remove your skirt, towering over you to begin unbuckling his pants. he kneels, and you pull yourself up as he watches the straps of your blouse slipping from your shoulders.

heavy breathing, his fingers burn your exposed skin as he pulls you toward him to lick your shoulder, digging them into your bare back. you lose yourself in the kiss, brimming with passionate intensity, turned into a bundle of sounds muffled against his mouth. pulling you toward him, you both fall onto the bed, with you straddling him.

his arm wraps around your waist to lift you up to undress himself, and the blouse falls further to expose the soft skin of your breasts. you see him, open his mouth involuntarily and his tongue peeking out just a little.

his breath hits you and gives you butterflies when he cradles one in his hands and puts his warm, wet mouth against your cold skin. choked up, your legs feel weak from being touched, almost losing it when you feel him standing erect against your femininity. haechan wreaks havoc on you, and your emotions quickly spread throughout the dimly lit room. his messy brown hair falls over his closed eyes, and you thrill at him getting so much pleasure from sucking your breats. with his plump lips wrapped around your nipple, his fingers holding them squeeze you and make you moan.

you find yourself barely able to stay on top of him, wanting to lower yourself onto his erect penis and have him close to you when he suddenly changes position and leaves you underneath him. he barely moves away when he returns to licking your already sensitive breasts and your fingers dig into his hair as you gaze at the stars.

“haechan…” you’re so desperate it hurts. yours legs have turned into a liquid pain that rises to your belly, and he just won't thrust into you.

instead, he begins to leave wet kisses on your stomach, which glisten in the light like flashes of silver. his mouth makes sounds every time he leaves a trail of saliva as he moves down, and you find yourself on the verge of ecstasy when he stops at the valley of your intimate area.

haechan has placed you so that you are slightly reclined on the pillows, giving him a view of your pink, swollen pussy, covered in silky lubrication and saliva. dripping over your thighs, the mere cold air gives you chills as you watch him slowly open your legs.

“i plan you to watch.” having his mouth back sucking and working wonders was just a whim. now he uses his fingers too, and you don't think you can hold out much longer. this is nothing like anything you've experienced before on your own while imagining him; this is a thousand times better.

his tongue barely gives you a break and you can't stop sounding hoarse and tearful. furrowing your eyebrows, your misty gaze falls and you see him nodding over your pussy, up and down. he changes speed again and it driving you crazy, unable to do anything but moan and arch.

his hands crawl across your stomach to your nipples beneath your disheveled blouse, and you have no other instinct than to reach for them and feel them against you. soft and covered in rings, you stifle a cry as you writhe beneath his touch, feeling your mind begin to fade away with pleasure.

“let’s get you ready.” when he curves his finger inside, a spasm strikes you and takes your breath away.

he pulls away from you just enough to see his face; flushed and overcome with indescribable emotion, he uses his fingers to feel you. his pretty face fills your heart with affection, and even though he looks tender and delicate, you now know how vicious he can be when his shiny darkened eyes look at you.

then, his fingers finish undoing the knots that tie your blouse, and you are completely naked and exposed in front of him.

you find yourself playing with your index finger in your mouth, writhing and stretching. you are so out of it that you can only reach out with your hands until they touch the soft material of one of your stuffed animals and bring it to your chest.

haechan watches you, eyes fixed on you, following your every move to the rhythm of his heavy breathing. you consider covering yourself to escape his prying gaze, but instead you reach up to the seams of the teddy bear and pull out the small, almost empty paper wrap.

he comes down and kisses you, ardently, deeply, your senses stirr when he pulls back and wait for you to put the join between his moist lips, soaked with your arousal.

you hold your breath and blindly reach for your candle lighter resting in the nightstand. when he inhales, smoke rings blur your vision, and your mouth tingles the moment he lets you taste the marijuana from his mouth.

mesmerized and dazed, barely aware of the rush of pleasure and desire that seeing him provokes in you, you let him kiss you and pass the smoke to you until he finishes. you find yourself ecstatically intoxicated by his presence between your legs. wet to the point of climax. but you’re so high words don’t come to you, but rather reflect in your eyes and body, in your entire being, vibrating and moving to have a touch of his body, the hands that made you pant his name, his bare legs flexing when you look down and see pearls of white liquid gushing from his tip. your mouth waters instantly for a taste of him.

to the side, your tongue leaves a lick from bottom to top, and the taste explodes on your palate when you enclose your lips around the tip and move down, taking it inside. bent over you, haechan sighs and let you give him a few sucking motions. licking and stroking, you’re entranced by how it barely fits, giving it a last suction until you run out of breath and pull away, only to find him frowning hard and with his eyes closed.

flustered, he bites his lips and you become aware of the effect you have on him. a small smile flashes across his face before he starts to look for something. “does your teddy bear have…?” a small black rectangle is trapped between your fingers under his gaze. fleeting pride crosses his features before he takes it from your hands.

“tell me if it hurts.”

you feel it press on your entrance, and a current shakes your body. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes into your hips slowly, his cock expanding you for him. without being able to help it, your eyes cascade down to the meeting of his pelvis against yours, and his solid length entering you. just a few more inches to go and you're already seeing stars.

your fingers grip the stuffed animal and a knot forms on your stomach. “agh… haechan~…” silky pleasure travels down your legs and up to your head, flooding everything with delicious sensations; a moan escapes your lips, then another and another until the base of his crotch hits you and you feel him slip out.

your arousal allows him to enter easily, he pumps you four times before he stops suddenly, “fuck, yn.” his closest hand holding your lower belly goes down and starts making circles on your clitoris, and a tingle runs through your body.

your body contorts when he increases speed, your pussy clenches and twitches, dazed by the full way it feels. you become drunk from the way he penetrates you with short, deep thrusts.

he stops again with a grunt and you whine loudly. “what?…”

warmth fills you when he comes to you and sink deep into your neck. your legs wrap around his waist and keep him close as he resumes the motion. “you feel amazing…” blushing, you bite your lips and melt away.

a shot of bliss washes you over, tilting your head back as you hold onto his shoulders, feeling his lips seek for yours. heavy breathing hitting your skin. eyes gazing into each other. arms wrapping around his neck, he thrust you harder and faster, before he takes the teddy bear out of the way to your breast, “let me see you,” he demands, yet his voice remains soft like honey. tits bouncing and belly tremble when he begins to rock his length with hard thrusts, girth making you close your eye shut due to the overwhelming sensation of fullness.

he lifts your pelvis and makes you arch, sensing him in new ways now that he hits your sweet spot from a different angle, decreasing the pace, the slow and sharp motion drives you to the edge the moment you were sure you were about to cum. “hae…” your voice sounds pasty and irritated; when your eyes gaze at him, he’s looking at the hot pink object falling out of mr. buttons.

oh. that. see, the vibrator was a bad joke from liz… that you ended up using it… just to give it a try. you would have liked to take it from his hands and hide it again, but from the way he’s looking at it and your stomach churns and warms, you crave for him to use it on you. almost overwhelmed and lost, you can barely hear him. “naughty girl.”

his voice has become deep and dark. you soon discover that it is due to desire. that it is because of you. he sounds crushingly beautiful.

the purring when he turns it on barely warns you how much you're going to like it, when he starts thrusting into you again with it pressed against your clitoris, you claw at the mattress and squeeze the pillow over your head. noise fills your mind and a delayed scream leaves your lips. you writhe even though he holds you tight. your legs give way and can barely stay still under the incessant trembling in your intimate area. liquid pleasure numb your muscles and sends you to a drowsy state. a sweet and silky feeling spread over your mind and you can’t hold the moans any longer. “aw, yes~ just like that, pretty girl.”

haechan fucks you hard and you find yourself physically choking back tears, suppressing as much as you can what is beginning to wreak havoc in your belly. you don't want to make any sound because you want to hear him and the way his moans are sweet music to your ears. cute and delicate. high-pitched and tearful. he whispers sweet nothings in your ears that left you dazed.

“breathe…” he chuckles in your ear and it sends goosebumps down your intimacy. “…haechan…” he closes his eyes and whimpers and suddenly you’re so awake to see him struggling and found out the reason why he stops so much it’s because he’s so close to fall over the edge and take you with him.

your eyes water and flutter when you feel pressure descend on your intimacy and numb you all over you, running out of breath. your stomach feels on fire and he just grabs your legs and lift them so they’re pressed against your chest. your whole body buzzes arches involuntarily. he’s all you can think about. his face, his grimace, the way he holds your thighs and the way his mouth keep pouring sweet sounds because you make him feel this good.

“oh, god~” he moans, seconds before he suffers one spasm and then another. an elongated cry leaves his lips when he tilts his head back and struggle to keep going, moments before you reach your high and cry his name. you grow increasingly tired as he ditch the toy and replace it for his fingers, soothing the ache that makes you squirm.

he keeps making noises when you kiss him. fingers dig into his hair and you stroke his back from top to bottom. “let me hear those pretty moans again.” you hold on tight as his fingers rub the rigid bulge of your intimacy.

he awakes every fiber of your body and receptively, a moan breaks the quiet room along with his cooing, until you grow more desperate. his big brown eyes look at you when you cup his face, visibly shaking and aroused. “am i your best friend?”

a kiss is left in his lips, long, impregnated with desire, slipping from your eyes darkened. “show me your favorite position.”

you're raised from the bed, caught in a bewitching spell of kisses and fingers tattooed on your skin. your breasts are wet from his mouth, sensitive due to constant biting and tingling for his touch. enraptured and in a pleasure-filled state of climax, you’re shuddering when you find yourself on top of him by his own doing. “haechan…” his name on your lips sound almost like a prayer for a celestial figure; an angel.

looking like an angel, he has round brown eyes filled with perverse things. tongue pressed in the valley of your breasts, you feel a sense of elation as he sinks into you again. frowning at each other for the overflowing and pleasure ecstasy, he closes his eyes and pants, “fuck, baby.” as you ride him, moving your hips back and forth, feeling with each thrust his length pushing against your walls and slipping on wet desire.

you feel the tangible, pleasurable pain in your chest, pounding and threatening to explode as your warm palms press against his chest and he falls between white pillows and bright gleams from your tears. fingers traveling to your waist and yours bury themselves in his forearms. the sounds increase as you intensify the pace, your stomach unleashes waves of warmth toward your crotch when he groans, “oh, yes, yn…” entering a state of such bliss he closes his eyes and helps you fuck him up and down.

cradled in his arms, his breath awakens every nerve in your body, stirring you and making you moan louder. you physically move with him when he changes positions and a sigh with pain leave your lips when you lose the delicious friction of his cock.

“…shhh, honey…” carried in his arms, he places you in front of pillows and stuffed animals, passing one arm across your chest. his breath hits your ear, “i’m showing you my favorites.” you arch involuntarily when he penetrates you, your body become needy and limp as he rhythmically hammers his cock in and out.

he takes you by the arms when you threaten to collapse on the bed, keeping you upright, he thrusts you and your head tilt backwards, receiving every inch of his girthy cock. “—oh~” you’re done, out of your mind. you hold onto the headboard and receive each of his thrusts and moans with ease until you melt around him again.

he reaches your clit and you whine his name stirring the words due to the overwhelming sensations he manages to bring out of you once more only with his cooing voice and fingers. he rocks you slow and hard, with guttural sounds coming out of his lips pressed against your ear.

drinking in, you end up reaching your high with your skin breaking in goosebumps as he hiss and starts laughing.

hearing his soft chuckle, he whispers, “how are you feeling? are you hurting, mmm?” he insists as he traces lines on your belly.

he places you on the bed, legs getting tangled under the sheets. you’re sore and tired, a smile blooms on your lips at the feeling of knowing the reason why. with all the weigh of your world on top of you, you take in his features, pretty, pretty. moles and delicate features, chiseled jaw and heart-shape lips. tanned and blushy. he feels heavenly, he’s made you touch the stars, yet he refers to you saying. “angel.” with his soft voice.

“i’m good…” you say, cheeks taking color. he’s dreamy, his eyes forms crescent moons due to the rush of energy spent. you would stay up all night if you could, if it weren't for his sleepy facial features. and he laughs. “what?” you ask.

“d'you want more?” he asks, boyishly. he sounds so drowsy it makes you yawn. you want him to teach you everything he knows. you want him to experiment with you and the positions he likes the most. yet your eyelids close unwillingly, and somnolent, you cup his face in your hands.

“wanna sleep with me?” you ask, noticing how his face lights up in an burst of color.

blue and red. “mmm…” he accepts, drawing you closer.

blue and red.

BLUE AND RED!

the two of you sit up in bed and shout in perfect coordination, “fuck, THE POLICE!”

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