afterimage drabble! texts between jeongguk and jaemin -
perhaps a little spoiler or teaser? not official part of the story!
afterimage! m a s t e r p o s t
summary: even though jaemin does not seem to like your bee friend, he can’t deny that it is quite entertaining talking to him.
[part one] [...]
taglist! 🏷️ @bjoriis @serenaorsiren @letjungcookk
@brekkers-whore @prodigyoongi
----------
the exchange occurs by accident.
or, at least, that is what both of them will claim later.
jeongguk calls while your hands are buried wrist-deep in muffin batter. the phone vibrates across the counter, narrowly avoiding a bowl of melted chocolate before jaemin catches it against the edge with his forearm.
“answer it,” you tell him.
he looks at the name illuminated across the screen.
“no.”
“then let it ring.”
“gladly.”
the phone falls silent. three seconds later, it begins vibrating again.
jaemin looks at you.
you continue folding chocolate into the batter. “don’t.”
“i haven’t done anything.”
“your face has.”
“you say that whenever you don’t have evidence.”
the phone vibrates for a third time.
with a sigh sharp enough to make his opinion clear, jaemin accepts the call and places it on speaker beside the flour.
“she’s busy.”
there is a brief silence.
“why do you have her phone?” jeongguk’s voice emerges through the speaker already suspicious, as though he has caught jaemin halfway through committing a crime.
“hello to you too.”
“where is she?”
jaemin glances towards you. “gone.”
you stop stirring. “i am standing right here.”
“then why did you say she’s gone?”
“because you sounded happier before she spoke.”
“give her the phone.”
“her hands are dirty.”
“why?”
“we are baking.”
another pause follows, this one longer. “together?”
jaemin looks at the phone as though it has personally insulted him. “that is generally how the word we works.”
you reach for the device before either of them can continue, but jaemin moves it farther along the counter.
“put me on video,” jeongguk says.
“absolutely not.”
“i wasn’t asking you.”
“she looks terrible.”
your head turns, shocked at your friends words. “jaemin?”
“what are you making?” jeongguk asks.
“muffins,” you answer, raising your voice towards the phone. “for the charity festival.”
“show me.”
“why?”
“i want to see.”
“they aren’t finished.”
“then show me when they’re finished.”
jaemin picks up a paper case and examines the uneven amount of batter you have spooned into it. “assuming they survive.”
you scoff, “you aren’t helping.”
“i bought the flour.”
“you carried one bag.”
“with dignity.”
from the phone comes a scoff loud enough to distort the speaker. “she could have carried it.”
“she could,” jaemin agrees, arms crossing in front of his chest with a smug expression. “but she didn’t.”
you know, without needing to see him, that jeongguk’s mouth has pulled into the small displeased shape it adopts whenever somebody wins an argument he had not realised they were having.
“send me a picture when they’re done,” he says.
“i will.”
“what if she forgets?” jaemin asks, eyes looking at your phone.
“i won’t.” you reassure jeongguk.
jaemin, however, is quick to dismiss your point, “she forgets things.”
“i do not!”
“you left your keys in the refrigerator last month.”
you are close to smack his face with the batter. “once.”
“why were they in the refrigerator?” jeongguk asks.
“that is not relevant.”
jaemin wipes his hands on a towel and reaches for his own phone. “i’ll send it.”
“you don’t have my number.”
“exactly.”
“give it to him,” jeongguk tells you, voice stern.
both you and jaemin become still.
“huh, why?” you ask.
“so he can send the picture.”
“i can send it.”
“you might forget.”
jaemin’s eyebrows rise. “he learns quickly.”
“nobody asked you.”
“and yet you keep talking to me.”
jeongguk begins reciting his number.
jaemin stares at the phone without moving.
“i’m not saving that.”
“then don’t.”
“good.”
“good.”
silence settles over the kitchen.
you look between jaemin and the phone. “are both of you finished?”
“yes,” they answer at the same time.
jaemin’s expression immediately worsens.
jeongguk repeats the number, slower now.
perhaps it is the deliberate pause he leaves between each digit. perhaps it is the implication that jaemin cannot remember a sequence of numbers without assistance. whatever the reason, jaemin unlocks his phone and enters it with growing irritation.
the phone beside the flour begins to ring.
“there,” jaemin says. “now you can block me.”
“you called me.”
“to confirm the number.”
“so you wanted it.”
jaemin ends the call from his own phone.
“i hope your next performance goes badly.”
“i hope your muffins sink.”
“they are not my muffins.”
“you said we’re baking.”
“that is generally how the word we works,” jeongguk repeats.
jaemin looks at you with genuine offence. “hang up.”
you do.
not because he told you to, but because the laugh attempting to escape your throat would only encourage them.
—
the first message arrives twelve minutes later.
[unknown; 16:27] this is jeongguk
jaemin looks at it while standing in front of the oven.
[16:28] unfortunate
[unknown; 16:28] send the picture
[16:28] they’re still baking
[unknown; 16:28] then why are you texting me
[16:29] you texted first
the three dots appear, vanish and return.
[unknown; 16:30] don’t save my number with a weird name
jaemin looks towards you. you are bent over the counter with your back to him, attempting to scrape the remaining batter from the bowl.
he saves the contact.
[ 16:31] too late
[16:31] image attached
the photograph shows the muffins through the oven door, their tops barely visible behind the reflection in the glass.
[small one; 16:32] they’re sinking
[16:32] no they aren’t
[16:32] how would you know
[small one; 16:33] i can see them
[16:33] through an oven door from another city?
[small one; 16:33] better than you apparently
[16:34] come bake them yourself then
[small one; 16:34] maybe i will
jaemin stares at the message longer than it deserves.
[16:35] don’t
—
jeongguk saves the number beneath jaemin’s actual name.
he adds (annoying) several minutes later.
—
their second conversation takes place that evening.
[jeongguk; 21:17] did she get home
[jaemin (annoying); 21:19] no
[jeongguk; 21:19] what do you mean no
[jaemin (annoying); 21:20] she wandered into the mountains
[jeongguk; 21:20] seriously
[jaemin (annoying); 21:20] yes jeongguk
[jeongguk; 21:20] why would you let her do that
[jaemin (annoying); 21:21] i support women’s independence
[jeongguk; 21:21] jaemin
[jaemin (annoying); 21:21] she’s home
[jeongguk; 21:21] you’re not funny
[jaemin (annoying); 21:22] she laughed
[jeongguk; 21:22] you told her?
jaemin does not answer.
some victories are better left undisturbed.
—
they do not text again for nine days.
then, shortly after midnight, jaemin’s phone lights beside his pillow.
[small one; 00:14] is she awake
he squints at the screen.
[ 00:16] no
[small one; 00:16] how do you know
[00:17] normal people sleep at night
[small one; 00:17] you’re awake
[ 00:17] i said normal people
[small one; 00:18] tell her to answer when she wakes up
[ 00:18] tell her yourself
[small one; 00:18] i just did
[00:19] then why are you here
jeongguk does not answer that.
the following morning, jaemin notices that you check your phone before sitting down beside him. whatever you find makes the tiredness around your face soften.
he does not ask.
—
[small one; 18:43] did she eat
[ 18:51] tf ask her
[small one; 18:51] she said yes
[ 18:52] then she ate ?
[small one; 18:52] she lies
[18:52] about food?
[small one; 18:52] sometimes
jaemin looks across the study hall.
you are seated beside the window, one hand supporting your forehead while the other moves over a page of notes. an unopened lunch container rests near your elbow.
[ 18:54] no
[small one; 18:54] i knew it
[ 18:55] why did you ask if you knew
[small one; 18:55] make her eat
[ 18:55] make her?
[small one; 18:56] you know what i mean
[18:56] i don’t work for you
[small one; 18:56] i didn’t say you did
[18:57] good
[small one; 18:57] good
jaemin puts his phone away, walks towards the vending machines and returns with a drink he places beside your unopened lunch.
“eat.”
you look up at him. “why?”
“because listening to you complain about a headache will ruin my evening.”
you study his face for a moment but open the container.
halfway through your first bite, jaemin’s phone vibrates.
[small one; 19:03] did she eat
jaemin turns it face-down.
—
the third time jeongguk contacts him, it is because you have not answered for three hours.
[small one; 14:06] is she with you
[ 14:23] threatening opening
[small one; 14:23] is she
[14:24] no
[small one; 14:24] do you know where she is
[14:25] yes
[small one; 14:25] where
[ 14:26] somewhere you can’t call her
[small one; 14:26] where
[14:27] her exam
the response does not arrive for nearly a minute.
[small one; 14:28] oh
[14:28] you forgot
[small one; 14:29] no
[ 14:29] liar
[small one; 14:29] i knew it was today
[ 14:29] what subject
[small one; 14:30] school
[ 14:30] impressive
[small one; 14:30] shut up
seventeen minutes later:
[small one; 14:47] when does it finish
[ 14:49] why
[small one; 14:49] just asking
[14:50] you’ve asked me four questions
[small one; 14:50] and you answered all of them
jaemin reads the message twice, locks his phone and decides he despises him.
at 15:12, he sends one final message.
[ 15:12] she’s done
the reply arrives immediately.
[small one; 15:12] how did it go
[15:13] ask her
—
after the call in the library, their correspondence becomes marginally worse.
[small one; 00:07] did you get home
[ 00:09] why
[small one; 00:09] she was with you
[00:10] and yet you asked whether i got home
[small one; 00:10] i meant both of you
[ 00:10] no you didn’t
[small one; 00:11] did she get home
[ 00:11] unfortunately
[small one; 00:11] what does that mean
[00:12] exactly what it says
[small one; 00:12] put her on
[ 00:12] no
[small one; 00:12] why
[ 00:13] she has her own phone
[small one; 00:13] she isn’t answering
[ 00:13] sounds peaceful
[small one; 00:14] jaemin
[00:14] jeongguk
[small one; 00:14] i don’t like you
[ 00:15] finally, something in common
—
neither of them ever tells you about the messages.
jeongguk continues claiming he only has jaemin’s number because jaemin called him first. jaemin insists he has not blocked jeongguk because doing so would suggest the messages bother him, which they do not.
they do.
still, when jeongguk leaves the country several weeks later, his final message before take-off does not go to you.
you are asleep, having stayed awake until nearly three to finish an assignment after refusing to let him know you were waiting for his flight.
[small one; 05:41] we’re leaving
jaemin reads it while eating breakfast.
[05:43] congratulations
[small one; 05:44] tell her we landed if she doesn’t answer
[ 05:44] tell her yourself when you land
[small one; 05:45] what if she’s still asleep
[05:45] then she won’t care
[small one; 05:45] she cares
the sentence appears with none of his usual impatience around it.
jaemin’s thumb rests above the keyboard. sunlight falls across the table, catching against the rim of his glass while the message remains open in his hand.
he could argue. he could ask what makes jeongguk so certain or remind him that you have exams, plans and an entire life that continues whether he is in the country or not.
afterimage - a jjk isekai story! by expectevenless
idol!jjk x student!reader.
tags! 🏷️ character death | reader is a phd student | isekai! | reader travels back in time | angst | confusion | oc!jaemin | she is in denial for a while | jeongguk is a sweatheart | he just wants some friends | fluff | f2l? | kinda idol life? | some time skips | kinda texting fit | slice of life | we take our studies seriously | more to be added
summary: After grieving the sudden death of global star Jeon Jeongguk, a thirty-something university researcher falls asleep-only to wake in Seoul in 2014, seventeen again and living a life that somehow already belongs to her. Even stranger, Jeongguk is alive, young, and apparently already part of her world. As she struggles with the loss of her old life and the mystery of the girl she seems to have replaced, she slowly realizes she may have fifteen years to prevent the death she remembers - without knowing what changing the future might cost.
wc: 21k
taglist: @bjoriis
*** [part one] [...] ***
I.
Blinking is a habit that one never really thinks of - it just happens and we move on. Life has always been about the act of letting go and moving on. The same goes for many other aspects of the human body - and life, in any matter - all that seem to go unnoticed until they stop functioning altogether. that one fine detail that seems to change everything.
Your eyes burn as you continue to trace each letter on your display one by one, the inside of your chest begging for some air. Each letter presses a new dagger into your heart, followed by a weight that settles over your chest. Has your heart always had this dull beat inside your ears, as if it was wrapped in bubble wrap and thrown into the wild ocean? The uncomfortable sensation of prickling on the bottom of your feet creeps up your legs, spreading goosebumps across your burning skin.
JEON JUNG KOOK (JEONGGUK) - (32) - BELOVED GLOBAL BOY-GROUP MEMBER DIES IN TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT.
It was supposed to be a normal break from your usual research routine. Your laptop on top of the worn-out table in your office suddenly blurs out of your vision, the bold red letters are the only thing your dry eyes seem to notice. It is a normal break, the one in which you sip your watered-down iced latte and run your hand over your face in vain as you try to write down a new paragraph for your paper. usually, the smell of your candle would drive a sense of comfort through your heart; instead, it makes you feel dizzy. too sweet, too ashy, too-
It seems that this break stays true to its purpose - the origin of its existence - it breaks you.
What are you supposed to do anyway? You almost scoff, as if the article in front of you is just a bad paper submitted by a lazy student that has not done enough research. That you already have started to pack your belongings into your bag, not in your usual fashion of carefulness; instead in a rushed manner to leave the building to escape into your own, you don’t notice. That you don’t stop to bid goodbye to the janitor or some of your colleagues as you rush past them, you also seem to ignore.
The beat inside your head threatens to spill out your ears, and you don’t even know where to look at. what are you supposed to do? just go home? go somewhere else? do you even have any right to express such reaction? the sound of the cars passing by, people passing by your vibrating body, the wind - it seems like your body blends it all out. the streets are busy, to no surprise. everyone has a life to live, meetings to finish and dreams to chase. you do too. you should head back, actually. it seems that every fiber in your being longs to move back into the comfort of your office. your heart seems to overpower this urge, forcing you to continue with your escape. as time passes and aching inside your heart spreads across your entire being, the door falling into its lock leads you to slide down to seat yourself on the hard floor. you barely register how it creaks under weight.
Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk has passed away. And you have no idea what to think - can you even do that? whatever you are going through right now; is it even valid? you force yourself to blink once again, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as a reminder that your body’s natural functions have been limited for the past hour or more. each breath you force yourself to take enters your body shakily, your airways burning as if they were filled with glass splinters. your lungs are about to cave in yet you can’t seem to take a deeper breath - it won’t allow you to.
you shake your head once, twice until the soba spill from your throat like soft butter. you feel your shoulders brush against the hardwood of your door with each strong shake; every sob scraping away. gathering yourself to get off the floor and move into your living room takes longer than you’d like to admit, as your limbs feel heavier than ever - almost lifeless as you drag your feet to your couch. your bag full of the papers and books you need to prepare for the following day laugh at your state in mockery, almost shaming you for having such an intense reaction.
shaking off this feeling, this shame, you fall onto your couch like a sack of potatoes, grateful for the soft embrace. all the moving around to change your place inside your own home has left you drained of any kind of energy you have gathered, your eyes once again losing all focus as you continue to stare ahead.
quiet.
for the first time in months, your head has turned void of any thought. as if it has finally decided to add a closing hour; you don’t think of any deadline, any research questions, not even about how you are supposed to explain yourself the following day as you have just got up and left. everything is just quiet and it terrifies you immensely. like an endless hole that refuses to be closed, the only aspect of your brain that you feel is the pounding against your forehead.
dead.
the very same person that has grown up in front of a camera for the majority of his life - whom you also followed for many years. he has died. and somehow it feels like a part of you has been ripped out of your chest and lit on fire. you try to calm your nerves by taking deep breaths and exhaling through your mouth, though your lower lip quivers with each exhale, your eyebrows rise slightly to suppress your tears. take a deep breath through your nose, slowly count to four. hold your breath for seven more seconds and then exhale through your mouth. repeat.
and as you try to keep up this pattern, a gentle smile, wide eyes and a soft voice find place inside your mind, finally breaking through the darkness surrounding your thoughts. the voice starts singing familiar tunes that you know oh so well, the dark eyes reflecting a light you have never seen before. and for the first time in forever, you drift into a slumber without your thesis as your last thought.
for the first, and perhaps only time, it is him.
——
the screeching of your alarm sends goosebumps across your skin as you sit up hastily, your mouth dry and eyes surrounding by crust.
groaning, you feel around your bed, its warmth almost lulling you back into a second round of sleep - almost. like a pen slowly rolling down the table, the fog inside your head seems to clear up, and the realization that you are in your bed and not on your couch makes you open your heavy eyes.
have you been sleepwalking?
scoffing, you look around the colorful room, the blinds are up, allowing the gentle sun to illuminate your room-
wait.
a colorful room? in this size? your eyes shift down - white sheets and a twin sized bed? what happened to your king sized one? and to your expensive hand-made wooden bed frame? have there always been that many high buildings outside your own apartment?
adrenaline pumps through your veins as you take a better look around, your feet hitting the fluffy -leopard patterned- carpet, trying to leave your- well, not your bed. your chest heaves and eyes begin to dance around all the decorative pieces fast, wanting to piece together any kind of information you could extract.
your head snaps towards your phone - an iphone 4? - as your second alarm blares through the speakers.
where is your phone? where are you even?
the view outside your window feeds into your confusion, the small alleys and huge buildings defamiliarizing you even more. where the hell are you? suddenly, your name is being yelled through the door, with a familiar force and even more so known voice - your mother?
“get up already! you will be late for school again!”
huh? school? you shake your head. does your mother still confuse the university you work at as your former highschool? you already told her that you are not a teacher but a phd student and lecturer at your university. a huff leaves your mouth, the confusion suddenly all forgotten as you move towards your door to greet your mom and tell her that her jokes aren’t funny. you couldn’t have anticipated that you would choke on your spit as you are met with your mothers younger looking face.
“did you get botox?” you ask instead, your voice softer for some reason.
kissing her teeth your mother raises the spatula in her hand in mock threat, eyes wide, “stop joking around and get ready already. jaemin will be here soon.”
she turns to work on some lunch box, muttering over her shoulder, “i told you your cat pyjamas need to be washed first before you wear it.”
your head snaps down to take a look at yourself. when did you ever buy this set? with your heart in your throat, you quickly turn to look at yourself in the mirror, confused features replaced with relief as you truly see yourself in the reflection. taking in a deep breath, you walk backwards to sit down on your- eh, the bed and try to make sense of your situation. you are in a different room, in a different apartment placed in a foreign area all together. yesterday, you tried to get through your stack of paper that needed to be graded but then saw the news-
jeongguk is dead.
the back of your eyes start to sting as your throat closes up once again, all the pain from the previous day washing up and crashing against your fragile walls. your hands cool down and the bottom of your feet start to tingle again.
breathe breathe breath-
your hand shakes as you take a hold of the strange phone, hoping to call someone from your department to tell them that you won’t be able to attend any of your courses, the threat of crying at any moment too big for you to control for the time being. though you don’t get all too far as your eyes stuck on the date.
24.10.2014.
twenty-fourteen? fourteen?
must be a system error. you swallow down your dry cough and continue to search for your secretary’s contact, the perplexed part of your mind taking over. where are all your contacts who are these people taking their place?
who is jaemin? who is your mother, why is she looking so young? who even are you right now?
you look the same - or at least a bit younger than before. it seems like the creases on your forehead and around your eyes [thanks, academia] have faded away, and even your cheeks look fuller. your eyes are red from all the tears that left them yesterday; your lips stretch into their normal smile you note as you try out different faces on the phones black screen.
it is you.
but, it is also not? blinking away whatever confusion you can, you get up and get dressed for, well, school. it is only when you cringe at your own clothes that you accept that something is truly wrong.
a bad dream? can one even understand that they are dreaming? in such detail at that? as soon as you step out your room to greet your mother, she beats you to it as she groans and pinches your cheeks, suddenly having appeared in front of you.
“stop messing with me and put on your uniform!” she places her hands on her hips with a scoff, eyebrows furrowed. “i spent almost an hour ironing all your dress shirts last night!”
like a fish pulled out of water, you open and close your mouth, not even answering her ash she pushes you back into the room.
“don’t forget your lunch!”
before you even realize what happened next, you find yourself at the front door of the apartment, your white converse tied a bit too tightly and your uniform scratching your neck.
well, what now? having no idea where you are and where your mother, well, the woman who looks like a younger version of your mother, wants you to go, you can’t help but wonder if anything that has happened so far is real. you feel lost, confused, hurt, oddly familiar and yet strange, jeon jeongguk has died-
tears well up in your eyes. fuck.
a shaky breath leaves your mouth. maybe you should go out and find a place where you can calm your nerves for a second. try figuring out what the hell is happening and how you can get back to your own place - or just away from here, to be honest - and just forget about it. you want to cry, want to grieve and just, be anywhere but here. alone. as you always have. your eyes trail down the hallway to the staircase leading downstairs to the entrance, at least you think. it is the only logical answer.
closing your eyes for a second to gather yourself once more, your feet move on their own, as if in a trance even. you don’t even bother looking around the halls as you love two stories down, don’t even worry about the heavy door that seems to open with a special technique that you aren’t supposed to know. the only time you are able to wake from this hypnotic sensation is when a person appears in front of you out of nowhere, your body colliding with theirs. you tumble backwards but manage to regain you footing, eyes immediately snapping to look at the person; a guy.
he looks around your, well, not really, age and wears the same uniform that the mother told you to wear. what was the name again?
“jae…” your own voice sends a shiver down your spine as you try to remember his name.
scoffing, the guy turns his head. his long black hair frames his round face, eyes rolling as he shifts in his place, “what? why are you late again, huh?”
his arm moves towards you and even though you don’t feel threatened in any way, you push him away, glaring at his actions. his eyes widen and his expression shifts slightly, as if he has not expected you to react this way.
“you good?”
his head tilts down to look into your eyes, but you simply turn your head away, something inside your chest burning.
inhale.
“yeah- yeah. just- i don’t know. missed my alarm and woke up with a sore throat.” you try to look at him, really. you can’t explain why it feels so wrong, so intimate. as if you are fooling someone, playing with their trust.
“let’s just go.” you gently slap his arm in hopes to ease the situation.
waiting for him to take the lead, you clear your throat and look at his forehead. this way, it will only seem like you are looking into his eyes - hopefully.
“whatever.” he rolls his eyes and starts to walk; to school, you think.
you take this as an opportunity to finally look around your surroundings, surprise painting your features as you take in the clean streets and foreign architecture. why aren’t there any cars parked along the road? why is it so, how should you word it, cramped? house after house, apartment buildings tall and grey, almost like those in a futuristic film. there aren’t many trees planted along the sidewalks, and it is quiet even though working hours have already begun. following quietly after jae… whatever, your gaze shifts back onto his tall figure. his uniform sits a bit too wide on his shoulders, his pants are rolled up to avoid dragging in the dirt and his bag hangs on one shoulder.
this could be your chance to find out more about, uh, everything. but what are even supposed to say? everyone acts like it is a normal day, no one questions you. you seem to belong, though have never felt more lost than you have today. all you wanted to do was stay at home and grieve.
jeongguk. a car crash. before you even allow your body to give out, you clear your throat and rub your eyes with the heel of your hand. you need to understand before you can lay down. need to find your way back. home. or at least somewhere familiar.
concentrate.
“say,” you begin, fastening your steps to walk beside him this time, “what is the plan for today?”
he looks down at your for a second and glances back straight ahead, his hands now inside his pockets in a lazy fashion. he seems like a kind guy, you note. like a best friend that would never say it out loud, but who loves you deeply. you feel like breaching someones trust. and even though you have no emotional connection to the guy in front of you, shame seems to heat up your face.
“after english class you mean? thought you wanted to hang with that one guy-“ he groans as he cracks his neck, jaw flexing slightly, “forgot his name.”
huh? you try to keep clam, keep it casual. you were a high school student not too long ago - you just need to find your groove back.
“yeah, i promised him.” your laugh sounds like a mixture of stormy nerves and a broken engine, worsening the urge to slap yourself across your own face. fucking hell. just stay cool. it should not be this hard. you work with students all the time, all day long.
“have you studied for lit?” he runs a hand through his long hair, “swear i have no idea what that bordieu guy wants.”
your mouth dries. a test? an exam? bordieu? you could work with that. so, you nod, looking ahead as a new building appears. large gates and trees peeking from behind.
“uh, yeah. stayed up all night, and, yeah. you know me.”
halting in his tracks, jae turns to look at you. really look at you. his dark brown eyes muster your face, tongue wetting his lips as he seems to think about your answer.
“you understood?” his hand reaches towards your ear [you almosy flinched back, again], “and just ignored my pleas? do you want to die?”
he pulls at your ear, not too harshly. whining, you try to duck away from his grip, you own hand holding his wrist, “listen! hey- stop that and listen!” you finally push him
away. upon seeing his sly smirk, you feel a familiar form of rage storm inside you. whoever jae has been to you- or well, this person, must have had a teasing relationship with this guy. and for some reason, amongst all the fear and confusion you have felt for the past hour, this seems to comfort you. you find comfort in this stranger who seems to evoke these intense feelings inside you. for once in this very short time of feeling lost, you feel seen. you feel belonging.
“i just- well.” you should tell him the truth. get it out of your system. “my favorite artist passed away, and-“
“fucking justin bieber? no way!” he cuts you off, his hands immediately on your shoulders as he gently squeezes them. you shake your head as your own hands rest on his wrists, fighting off the amused scoff threatening to leave your mouth.
“no! no! that would be a global disaster! but, ugh. i guess this one’s too? remember bts? my favorite member has passed away in a car accident.”
it feels, how should you describe it. like reality has really been set in stone.
jeon jeongguk has died. and this is the first time you have said it out loud. and even though the dagger inside your heart continues to twist around, you feel like a tiny weight has been lifted off your chest. the first step has always been acceptance. you can’t deny the truth. and as you feel proud of yourself for finally admitting to the truth, jae seems not to understand the importance of this statement. instead, he tilts his head to the aide, eyebrow raised.
“who the fuck are you talking about?”
Confused, you take in a breath to answer him, he cuts you off before the first sound leaves your mouth. his hands wander down to the back of your shoulders, pushing you to turn towards the entrance gate.
“tell me later about that game. ms. choi will demolish us if we come late again.”
that name tastes sour, but you have to get him to understand. how can he just brush that off?
“but-!”
he seems to be fully immersed in to arriving to class on time, his hands immediately pulling your wrist towards the lockers as soon as you enter the building. fuck. your eyes widen and your heartbeat picks up its pace. what are you supposed to do-
someone utters your name. it’s quiet, like a gentle breezeway in the air. though the tone, the voice seems to pull you out of your bubble wrap state. it’s too, how should you word it, grounding. it’s familiar. you need familiar. you look at jae first, though he looks at something, someone, past your shoulders. his gaze no where near as friendly and teasing as you have seen it before. he looks annoyed, almost. shoulders tense and brows slightly raised.
you turn your head to the other side, slowly, as if preparing yourself for another quest you needed to conquer, eyes immediately landing on the person wearing the same [ugly] yellow school uniform as the two of you. you don’t even register the name tag as you look at the face- what. the air is knocked from your lungs, your ears ring and for some reason you can’t move your mouth to produce any kind of sound, any kind of acknowledgement or shock to the sight in front of you.
what. the. fuck.
what is he doing here? right there, you have jeon jeongguk in the flesh standing in front of you; cheeks full, eyes wide, yet laced with a certain shyness that runs deep into your heart, and reddish hair, covering his forehead and the majority of his eyebrows. his nose sits too big on his face, though you can’t help but find it endearing.
he calls your name once again, stepping closer timidly, head tilting as he tries to read your face. even you can’t tell what expression you must have right now. behind you, jaemin - you finally remember his name - slams his locker shut and walks off with his slippers scraping along the polished floors. you don’t know him, only having met him ten minutes ago, though you already wish that he came back. you need someone help you calm down.
you. need. to. clam. down. exhaling deeply, you breathe out jeongguks name, feeling exposed almost.
“uh, can i- can i help you?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for the crack in your voice.
what are you even doing. here you are in an ugly uniform, standing in a foreign place - korea, it seems - talking to one of the biggest artists ever. or, well, at least his younger version. the version filled with hunger and fear, desire and anger. the version that yet has to achieve all his dreams, realize his whole purpose and potential.
giggling [he giggles because of you], jeongguk steps even closer than before, eyes twinkling, “you came late. i was concerned.” he nods his head to the side, silently asking you to follow him.
and you do, without hesitation. your legs move before you can register it, your mouth still and eyes wide as you step into the classroom. looking around the rows of desks and scattered chairs, your head turns from one side to the other, eager to take everything in.
it is bright in here, more so than you are used to from your old classrooms. students sit on tables and talk in their friend groups. others film themselves, while some freshen up their make up on their phones. your heart picks up its pace, and you can feel your bladder press uncomfortably against your abdomen.
where was the restroom again? with a tug on your uniforms sleeve, you are pulled towards what you assume is your desk, jeongguk continues to lead you as if it is a natural thing. he doesn’t even question you, doesn’t ask you who you are and where you came from.
“i did the exercise you gave me last week,” he gently pulls on the fine hair along his face, “ah, what should i say. i don’t have any excuse. i was too lazy to finish it.”
his eyes shine with mischief, the left corner of his lip twitching. sitting down, you decide to freak out later and just get through with this day first. it is not your first time seeing a member of the biggest boy group ever anyway. just pretend he is one of your students that need help with a complex theory that took even you a while to grasp.
you saw taehyung once when you were vacationing in france. though as any other fan would, you turned away and let the man be. easy as ever.
however now you have your favorite member - alas, his younger self - talking to you, as if you had been a part of his life. a normality. familiar. not even just talking, but apparently being your friend, someone he feels comfortable talking to. someone he wouldn’t mind dragging around. you look down at his paper, your hand writing on it. it seems that ‘you’ have written some words and sentences in english for him to translate and learn. half of it is left empty, whereas the other half is poorly worked out. you scoff quietly as you think back of the well-known fact that jeongguk sucked in english back in highschool. well, he barely attended his classes, his life as a trainee first, later his rising popularity standing in the way of his high school diploma becoming a priority.
believing that your scoff is directed at him, his foot hits yours under the desk, pulling a surprised gasp from your lips.
“stop making fun of me! i told you that i wouldn’t have much time this week. at least i tried.” then, a tad quieter, looking down at his hands on his lap and biting the soft pink of his bottom lip, “i am trying.”
his tone pulls at the strings of your heart. shoulders sagging and voice unusually soft, you shift in your seat and point at the first mistake on the sheet, hoping to encourage his learner’s motivation. easy. you worked with various high school students, acquiring some kind of skill and feel on how to make them want to learn.
“you start well here,” your finger traces his hand writing, feeling oddly sentimental, “you used ‘did’ already. therefore, you don’t need to put the second verb into the past.”
you recite the old rule that tour own english teacher would drill into your twelve years old mind. it is hard to believe that the person you would curse out back in high school is now the one you go back to teach someone else .you continue to work through the exercises to the very last second until the bells rings, signaling that the lesson starts. chairs scrape against the tiles as everyone moves to their seats, the chatter dies down. you feel foreign yet so normal as you follow the other students as they get up their seats to greet the teacher, feel so relaxed as you sit back down and open your notebook. though you cant help but bite along the skin inside your cheeks or bottom lip, struggle to fight against the bounce of your right leg, brushing against jeongguks under the desk. your muscles tense up from the subtle touch. your bites along the inside of your cheeks intensify. it is warm, it is soft, it is him.
though it is boring, not enough to distract your sharp thoughts crawling around our mind, their claws digging deep. you answer when the teacher picks you to answer a question in english, keep your voice steady as if you have done this before.
and you have.in your class, almost fifteen years ago. with people you almost always have had around. grew up with. shared memories and insiders with. the flicker of the lights above your head doesn’t bother you as it would have back in your office.
your throat closes up again.
the only time you seem to wake up from your trance is when jeongguk daps yours waist, making you squeal. rapidly blinking, you quickly apologize to your teacher with a bow of your head. your gaze shifts towards the guy next to you, glaring at his teasing smile.
“you okay?” he leans in to whisper, eyes wide with concern. his warmth closes around you comfortably. your gaze shifts down to his sloppy handwriting on his notebook, the way he has three different colored pencils on his desk even though they aren’t needed.
are you okay? the short answer is no.
the longer answer would be that you feel incredibly uncomfortable and insecure; feel lost and yet familiar in this foreign place. your body seems to work in an automated fashion, making you blend in perfectly with the people around you. the smell
of someones convenience store sandwich curls around your nose, the giggles from behind you are a usual occurrence. though the gears in your head turn in light speed, your heart feels like jumping out of your chest and run away. breathing has never felt more like a task than it has for the past few hours.
“yeah,” you nod instead, matching his quiet tone, “just tired.”
you turn your head to look at the blackboard, feeling no need to copy whatever the teacher has written down. you used to teach in english. used. or, still do? ugh. jeongguk hums, pencil doodling on the blank sheet of your notebook, “are we still on for lunch? your exercises really help, and rap-mon hyung wants me to keep up my studies.”
wetting your lips, you try your hardest not to choke at the mention of the leader of bts. instead you nod again, flashing a smile you hope is convincing enough.
convincing to whom, you have no idea. it blurs. not only your vision from the tears that tried to push through at any given moment - especially when you and jeongguk shared a class and you couldn’t help but watch him from your peripheral vision - but also the entirety of the day. it seems that you are in a constant state of lulling in and out of consciousness, though your body continues to move through the hallways, answer the questions directed to you not only from teachers but also the future superstar that seems to be your friend.
lunch has been a different experience. back then, at your high school, you would simply go out and buy something from the local kiosk. here, you hastily follow jeongguk to the cafeteria, copying his actions of getting a food tray and fill the space with whatever you craved - which is nothing. it seems as though your appetite has left you for the time being. it’s loud inside, you note, your eyes dancing around the room which slowly fills with groups of hungry students. each friend group finds their own table, laughter spilling from their mouths with ease, while other pairs and individuals decide to leave the crowded room, holding their drinks and snacks in their hands.
as you continue to look around while you wait for your friend to finish deciding which dessert he would like to eat, your eyes meet jaemin. for some reason, you can’t help but feel relief run down your spine, jaw finally unclenching. he, too, seems to notice your gaze, smirking as he nods his head to you as a greeting. and his smirk continues to stay on his thin lips until jeongguk appears next to you, the smell of his softener invading your space. you tilt your head in confusion as jaemin rolls his eyes and looks away, though decide to talk to him after you finish your business with jeongguk.
speaking of him, you notice that he barely speaks up unless you talk to him first. instead, he simply exists next to you, guiding you through the school with practiced ease. he hums to himself when working, bows his head to teachers when passing, and fiddles with his hands when working on the questions in front of him. you find a quiet [well, as quiet as it gets] within the busy cafeteria, placing your food tray on the metal table. your eyebrows shoot up when jeongguk decides to sit downright next to, not in front of you as you have thought he would.
this is it.
you bite down your anxiety and decide to talk to the boy you have seen only on the screen before, your hands clammy.
“say,” you clear your throat, setting down your chopsticks, the clang against the metal table subtle, “you won’t have much time to come anymore, right?”
you spread your hot hands against the tables cool surface. you feel weird, talking to him, looking at him. if it has been the case back at you real place, you would have left a while ago. scared of bothering him. but here, jeongguk seems to be the one wanting to be close to you. yeah, you think to yourself, after all, their next comeback will help the group to gain more popularity and attention. this results to them working longer, more intense than before, if that was even possible. he won’t have time, will be touring and continue to live out his future set in stone.
this seems to open his inner gate. jeongguk suddenly sits up right, eyes wide and cheeks filled with rice he tries to swallow before answering. this is the first time you have seen him look awake. you shift in your seat and try your hardest not to look away. you need to stay calm, act normal. look at him, smile at him, actually react to whatever he says instead of blending it out. his warmth next to you becomes suffocating, his little habits that you previously only ever watched on the screen, you [try to] ignore. it wouldn’t be fair to him. it feels invasive. god, you don’t want to be invasive in any way.
jeongguk looks down after swallowing his food, chopsticks playing with his food, “i guess i feel a bit more pressured with the comeback.”
he sighs. you decide against replying to him immediately, wanting for him to continue. and he does, eyes briefly looking up at yours before he turns back to look at his tray, tip of his ear blushing.
“i hate and love being at school, i- i think it helps me to calm down?” his voice rises slightly, he tilts his head with a scoff. “but the teachers are annoying. not only here, but also our dance teacher back at the agency. and- and a member from the group is also very thorough with our choreography! he- well, we all want to do well, but he is so harsh!”
your heart squeezes in your chest. he tries his best to be as lowkey as possible about the comeback, about his members. and yet, here you are, totally understanding whom he is talking about, what his agency expects from them. you lean your head against the palm of your hand, eyes never wavering from jeongguks face. he doesn’t seem to mind - his rambling continues on and on, jumping from one topic to the other.
you must be a close friend of his, seeing that he trusts you enough to talk to you about whatever crosses his mind. your gaze shifts towards your phone placed on the table, the time signals that you only have about ten minutes left. clearing your throat, you sit up, unaware that jeongguk seems to copy your movements, though in a timid manner. he places his utensils down, plate cleared and lips coated with a tiny shimmer of the oils of the food.
“that means we also won’t see each other much, right?”
you can’t really tell if you are hopeful or disappointed. you are aware that jeongguk won’t have time to attend classes, will be busy with so much more than you could ever imagine. you should be glad; being next to him even for the day has been nothing but stressful for you. having to be careful with what you are supposed to say, what to say, is complicated. you also can’t help but deflate at the thought of never seeing him again. he is as endearing, as gentle as it gets. his teasing, his dedication to kinda do the exercises you prepared for him have all already caved a tiny spot inside your heart.
not jung kook of bts, but jeongguk. the guy with dark red hair, wide eyes and the ugly colored school uniform.
with whatever bravery jeongguk could muster, he reaches towards your phone and turns its display for you to unlock, never letting the device leave his hand. you don’t question it, rather perplexed at his doings but too intrigued to ask him for an explanation. his fingers move along the small screen - that you had yet get used to again, since you are used to the bigger screen of your iphone 16 pro max - and you can’t even tell what he types in. it is only when he presses something and waits patiently for-
as his phone rings inside the pocket of his dark pants, he leaves out a satisfied sigh before handing you back your phone.
“even if i can’t come here,” he sits up a bit, nose scrunching as he tries to back down the smile pulling on the corner of his lips, “we can meet somewhere else!”
your jaw slacks at the bold move of the guy that was supposed to shy, according to different sources and stories of his group. blinking down at your phone and then back at him, you scramble to get up with your tray and follow his steps as he has already gotten up to pit back his stuff, everyone else inside the cafeteria apparently following suit. the voices pick up again, slippers squeak against the floor and utilizes falling into the bins ring through the air. you decide to copy the others, having lost jeongguk from your sight.
what was that?
———
“what was that?” jaemin asks as you both walk home.
school day is over, thankfully its friday so you won’t have to stress about tomorrow. if there even is anything to stress. releasing your lip from your teeth, you glance up at the tall boy, meeting his stern look.
“what was what?”
this time around, the streets seemed to buzz with life. cars drive past faster than you are used to, people walk with their colleagues and friends to get some drinks and food, and in the midst of it all, jaemin and you keep walking towards the street of the building you came out from this morning. the sounds die down with each meter you leave behind, the neighborhood swallowing any kind of noise.
jaemin runs his hands through his hair, exhaling sharply, “you-! are you sure you’re just tired?”
his question hits you, not physically, but in a way where you feel the air inside your lungs vanish instantly, in a way that makes you unsure about how to proceed. from what you gathered so far, the two of you must be friends, very good friends. whenever you feel his gaze, it seems that he isn’t looking at you but instead looking into you, as if everything inside you is an open book for him to read.
you swallow your spit in hopes to soothe your throat, “uh, yeah, wha- why are you asking?”
“you act like pop boy is one of your best friends or whatever.” he deadpans, coming to a halt in front of what you recognize to be the front door of the apartment building.
“you even gave him your number. you told me that you only help him out because you felt sorry.”
what?
“well, i guess i kinda like him now? as a friend!” you try to save yourself, hands stretched out in front of you. why does your face feel so hot, ugh.
“it’s just, y’know? giving him my number so i can give him better advice and such, ha ha, yeah! y’know?”
someone please make you shut up.
even though jaemin sharpens his gaze while watching you make a clown out of yourself, he seems to decide that he will leave you be, at least that’s what you hope. instead, he pulls you into his chest, arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders. he smells neutral, you guess. after spending the entire day inside a school filled with students who sweat, spill drinks, and eat different kinds of food, it is actually quite refreshing. you are supposed to feel protected, you think. it seems that jaemin and, uh, the previous you, aren’t too unfamiliar with hugging and other kinds of physical contact. it eats you from the inside, using his strong hold to feel comforted in the midst of this entire situation you are living through, even if he thinks it is about something else.
“i get it. you miss your one guy and try to close the gap with pop boy-“
“jeongguk.”
“-but just, let yourself heal first, ‘kay? we- i will talk to you later, or whatever.”
you are abruptly pushed off his body, his hand pinches your cheek as a goodbye. scoffing, you slap his wrist away and watch him leave with a teasing grin dancing along his lips, eyes shining with something you can’t actually pinpoint. as you turn to walk inside the building, your feet stay stuck as you recall what jaemin has just said.
that one guy? what did he mean?
shaking your head, you press against the heavy door and climb up the stairs, two stories if you remember correctly, the third door on the right. your hand finds the correct key before you can properly look through the small bundle your mother had shoved into your palm this morning.
of course it does.
you don’t allow yourself to think about that. the apartment is quiet when you step inside. it has a faint smell of that one soup you like, curling around the air in a way that almost makes you believe that you are back home. almost. as the door falls into the lock, so does your composure. heavy bag sliding off your shoulder, you kick off your shoes and follow it down the floor, eyes already burning.
“hello?” you ask into the room, desperately trying to not choke on your own words.
you receive no answer, taking it as your sign to finally let go.
of what exactly, you can’t tell. of everything, you guess.
first it is a tear rolling down your cheek, followed by more. then, the first sob escapes, almost embarrassingly. though it seems to break every other string you have held on to, your cries rolling off freely now. your shoulders shake with each sob, your mouth waters and your tears start to burn your skin. your chest hurts, your head starts to pound, numbness taking over your lower body.
you squeeze your eyes shut, though immediately open them to push yourself off the floor, almost crawling to the toilet. your stomach cramps and you know this feeling all too well as you push your hair out of your face. you lean over the toilet bowl, todays lunch barely making it in. it happens like a routine, a sob followed by your stomachs content into the toilet. you don’t even care about your blurry vision and hair getting into the way; don’t care about touching the toilet even though you used to loathe it.
nothing matters.
chest heaving, you only sit back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall when your stomach empties entirely, not even its acid coming up anymore. your entire body folds forward until your forehead nearly touches the floor, one hand gripping the fabric above your chest as though you could physically pull whatever hurts out of there.
fuck. you had done so well.
you had sat through classes. answered questions. eaten three spoonfuls of rice because jeongguk had been sitting beside you and you didn’t want him to ask why you weren’t eating. you had walked through hallways you had never seen before as though you had done so hundreds of times. you had smiled when people smiled at you, bowed when they bowed, laughed whenever it seemed appropriate. your throat hurts, you feel disgusting and dizzy. you want to leave.
you want to go home. it’s almost funny, you think to yourself as you get up, almost diving straight into the floor as you trip over your own feet.
home? you want to go home? you take a look around the strange apartment. apart from its layout, this whole place echoes your mother’s and your taste. even the carpet on the floor of the toilet that you used to hate but your mother forced you to accept was there. there are shoes beside the entrance. several pairs. some smaller than yours, some you vaguely remember seeing your mother wear years ago. a jacket hangs from a hook on the wall. beneath it sits an umbrella with a curved wooden handle. the couch is covered with blankets, hiding its actual beige color your mother wants to keep clean. you remember making fun of her arguments, claiming that a couch was there to be sat on.
the wall is decorated with your paintings and pictures of you two. ordinary things. that’s almost worse. you step into the bedroom you woke up in this morning. your stomach drops as you continue to look around. it is so you but also so not. the walls are decorated with boards and pictures, something that your own bedroom doesn’t have. instead of your cool color palette, this room is filled with different colors, different pieces of furniture that don’t match but also gives these four walls a certain personality.
it is the room of a typical seventeen-year-old girl. another girl. not you. never you. you dig the heels of your hands into your eyes, almost as if this would help you wake up from this nightmare.
this room - you don’t know whose it is. that thought gets you moving. the first thing you reach for is the school bag lying beside the desk. not your school bag. the girl’s. you pull it open and are immediately met with different colored binders and pencil cases. so, even in this scenario, the girl - or you, or whoever - likes to keep things organized with a color scheme. it almost paints a small onto your face.
your eyes stumble on the notebooks and papers scattered on the desk. you take the notebooks into your hands, one by one.
mathematics, korean, english. your fingers stop. the handwriting is familiar. you saw it earlier today, scattered in corrections across jeongguk’s worksheet. you open the notebook.
sentences fill page after page in neat writing, interrupted by notes in the margins and words underlined several times. some pages are cleaner than others. others have doodles squeezed into empty corners. you turn another page. and another.
you understand everything. not only the english. the korean. your stomach drops. it makes sense. you feel like crying and laughing all at once. you aren’t even in your own country anymore. you close the notebook.
“no.” as if it burns your hand, you throw the notebook onto the bed. not your bed. the girls bed - well, just someone else’s bed.
your attention moves toward the photographs. there are more than you noticed this morning. small prints are tucked around the mirror, some held up by pieces of tape that have started curling at the edges. your mother appears in several. you recognize relatives. you can’t fucking believe it; even your relatives look like themselves. well, they are themselves but, you don’t even know what to say. younger. so much younger, livelier. your mind reels back to those moments of when the pictures were taken. but it wasn’t you there, it would never be you.
then there are people you don’t know. girls with their arms wrapped around one another. classmates making faces at the camera. someone holding up a peace sign behind the girl’s head. you can’t seem to recall any of these people, any of these moments shared with them. you recall the same uncomfortable feeling you had when you were in class today. all these strangers, non whom you recall from your actual life.
behind your head. you move closer. there you are; rounder cheeks. longer hair. a smile you recognize because you’ve seen it in mirrors your entire life. except you also don’t remember the photograph being taken. it’s like different fragments, some clearer than others while others are straight up blacked out. your fingers hover over it. you don’t touch it. you shouldn’t.
another photograph. jaemin. younger than he looks now, his hair shorter, his face scrunched up while the girl beside him laughs. she looks like you, though you don’t share the same soul as hers, the one jaemin knows better than anything. this picture proves it; their close bond, their mutual understanding and trust. you pull open the first drawer of the desk.
pens. hair ties. old receipts. yeah that’s you. the second. papers. you dig through them faster now. a school document catches your attention. your hands shake as you flatten it against the desk. there is your name; your full name. you read it once. twice.
date of birth. your date of birth, in the year of twenty-fourteen. it still sends shivers down your spine. you calculate automatically.
seventeen. “fuck off.” you laugh. the sound comes out wet and broken.
“fuck off.” your vision blurs out once more, throat closing up. you reach for something else, hand shaking. student identification. same face. same name. another document. same. you start opening drawers without putting anything back. back home, your mother would have killed you. it is a trait you carried on. you would never leave out stuff without putting it back into its place.
wardrobe. clothes. none of them yours. you recognize your taste in some of them and absolutely despise others, but that doesn’t make them yours. it feels bittersweet. there are fragments of you, but it will never be you. desk, scattered with books and papers. this reminds you of home. your own office. but it is not yours. shelves. cheap perfume that makes you turn away from its stingy scent. not yours. it makes you feel even more out of place than you did in the first place. a little jewelry box, gold. you usually mix it up with silver, never been a huge fan of yellowish gold to begin with. photographs. not your memories. you pull open another drawer too hard and it catches against the rail.
“come on.” you yank it, growling aggressively. “come on!” it jerks free.
half its contents spill onto the floor. “fuck!”
you kick it away. your breathing has picked up again. you stare at the mess surrounding your feet. someone’s life. an entire fucking life. and every piece of it insists that it belongs to you. “it’s not mine.”
your voice barely carries through the room. you look at the photographs.
“none of this is mine.” your gaze catches your reflection. red eyes, swollen cheeks. hair sticking to your face and dried vomit securing it. usually, you would have run to the sink and washed it all off, though you can’t find the energy to do so.
a seventeen-year-old face you remember having, but not like this. not here. you step closer to your own reflection, hoping. for the reflection to move on its own. maybe that way, you’ll feel less crazy.
“who the hell are you?” you flinch when you hear the front door open, heart beating in your ears. fuck.
you spin around. keys clatter into the small bowl in the hallway. then your, or well her, mother’s voice carries through the apartment.
“i’m home!”
your entire body stills. for one stupid, desperate second, relief overwhelms everything else. mom. your feet nearly move again, ignoring everything you felt before. then you remember. not your mother. she would not comfort a stranger with her gentle voice and soft touch as you know she would with you. not like this.
you look around at the open drawers, the clothes, notebooks and photographs scattered across the floor. footsteps approach down the hallway. she calls out your name, cautiously. you cannot answer. the footsteps stop outside the room. and when your mother appears in the doorway, whatever she had been about to say disappears from her face. her eyes move over the mess, then toward you. those same eyes that would crinkle when she laughs at your funny choreographies, the ones that would scold your with a stern gaze whenever you left the house with wet hair.
“what happened?”
you stare at her. at the woman whose voice you know better than your own. at a face you have loved your entire life, only stripped of more than a decade you remember living beside her. your lower lip trembles. and suddenly, horribly, one thought rises above everything else. you don’t know how long it has been since you last saw your actual mother.
“mom?” you feel weak, ashamed and just want to be seen again. you want to be seen, not this shell carrying your consciousness. her expression changes instantly. you hate how relieved you feel when she crosses the room toward you, arms stretched to pull you in immediately.
you lose it all over again, ugly sobs, shoulders shaking, and hands clutching her cardigan. she gently strokes your head, muttering sweet words and kissing the crown of your head. instead of lifting up your mood, it just adds fuel to the fire.
you want to go home. “is it about him again?”
you still. there it is again. him. who is he, and why is now even your mother mentioning him.
sniffling, you slowly detach your iron grip from her cardigan and look at her face. as much as it hurt you to see it before, it also helps you to calm down. at least you know that your mother is this wonderful woman in every dimension. you feel better, seeing that she seems healthy and content with her life here.
so, you tilt your head, “who?”
only when your mother furrows her eyebrows you realize that you have made a mistake. you open your mouth, though no sound comes out despite the efforts.
fuck. what now? you watch her stand up, her hand on your cheeks as she slightly bends her spine, “let’s wash up, okay? then we can eat and watch that one show with that one japanese actor.”
“he is chinese, mom.” you hear yourself correct her automatically. your mother clicks her tongue.
“same thing.”
“that is literally racist.”
the answer leaves your mouth before you can stop it. silence. your mother looks at you, straightening her back. you look at her. then she rolls her eyes.
“you always say that.”
your stomach drops.
always. you stare after her as she disappears into the hallway, still muttering something about how she could never remember all the names anyway. you remain exactly where you are.
you always say that. not her. you.
apparently. your eyes fall toward your hands. they look like yours. the same small scar beneath your thumb, the same crooked nail you have never managed to grow properly.
you turn them over. even those? you don’t remember getting the scar here. you remember getting it when you were nine, trying to open one of your father’s stupidly difficult packages with scissors even though your mother had explicitly told you not to. your breath catches. that happened. you remember it as if it has happened yesterday. you wanted to help, you father was weak and barely stood up anymore.
back home. your old kitchen, drawers easily accessible. your mother’s angry face. the little white scar that remained afterward. you remember lying about it, telling your friends that you had a fight with a street cat. and yet it is here too. on this hand. this body that actually does not belong to you. in korea. in 2014.
you rub your thumb over it until the skin turns pink. why, you don’t know. you guess you hope that it is a stain that you got over the day, or maybe just your eyes playing a tasteless prank. whatever the reason might be, you just don’t want that scar to be true.
“come on!” your mother calls from the bathroom. “before the food gets cold!”
you rise without answering. your feet carry you down the hallway, it is a no brainer, really.
——————
you know before you open your eyes. perhaps that is the cruelest part. there is no confusion this time, no blissful stretch of unconsciousness where your mind allows you to believe that yesterday had been nothing but an unusually elaborate nightmare.
you know. the mattress underneath you is too small.
the pillow too soft. somewhere outside, a car passes through the narrow street below, followed by the distant sound of something being dragged across concrete.
your eyes remain closed. just five more minutes. five minutes in which the bed underneath you can be yours. five minutes in which the ceiling above you is the familiar white of your apartment and the clothes scattered somewhere nearby are the ones you had been too tired to fold after work. five minutes before your alarm rings and you complain about having slept too little.
you’ll get up; brush your teeth, make coffee you will inevitably forget to finish because coffee on an empty stomach makes you nauseous. you’ll complain about your back while getting dressed and spend far too long deciding whether you can get away with wearing the same trousers you wore two days ago. you’d just rotate it with a new sweater. your laptop will still be sitting on the table, battery not charged because you are always too lazy to get up and retrieve it. your papers will still need grading. your students must be cursing you out for taking this long. someone will have sent you an email beginning with dear professor despite you correcting them for the hundredth time. your thesis will still be unfinished. you would give anything for it to be unfinished.
your throat tightens. slowly, you stretch one leg beneath the blanket. the flesh is softer than you remember, less scars due to your hasty shaving. your foot reaches the end of the mattress far too soon.
no. you curl it back toward yourself. don’t open your eyes. your expensive bed isn’t underneath you. you know, feel that. the handmade wooden frame you had spent an embarrassing amount of money on isn’t surrounding this mattress.
there will be no pile of books on the nightstand. no used tissues because your nose seems to be an endless well built up there. no charger hanging uselessly from the socket because you forgot to plug your phone in. no familiar crack in the paint above your window that you kept promising yourself you would finally fix. you have to admit that you have grown an emotional attachment to that one crack. a constant in your turbulent life.
still, you don’t open your eyes. maybe knowing isn’t the same as seeing. maybe you can remain here long enough for whatever mistake brought you here to correct itself.
your nose begins to sting.
“please.”
the word disappears into the pillow. you don’t even know whom you’re asking. god? the universe? your own brain?
“please.” you repeat, lighter this time. nothing happens. of course nothing happens.
when you finally force your eyes open, the first thing you see is color. too much of it. photographs, boards. the edge of that ridiculous leopard-patterned carpet. morning light spilling through blinds that aren’t yours. your chest caves in. you turn your face into the pillow. a sound leaves you that you immediately hate.
it is small, pathetic, broken. yesterday wasn’t a dream. it didn’t end. you aren’t waking up. the realization shouldn’t hurt this much. you already knew. you had known when you ate dinner with your mother. known when she complained about the mess you had made. known when you washed your face with the blue cleanser your hands apparently recognized before you did.
you had known when you crawled into this bed. but some stupid part of you had waited anyway. sleep had brought you here once and perhaps sleep could take you back.
it didn’t. you are still here; seventeen, in korea. 2014. you press both palms against your face. your voice is hoarse, “fuck.” you don’t want to get up. there is nothing to get up for; no university, no office and no research in said office. no students waiting for you. no colleagues wondering why you left without saying anything. no thesis.
you almost laugh at that one. yesterday morning you would have committed several minor crimes for an excuse not to look at the thing for an entire weekend. now the thought of never opening that document again makes tears slip silently into your hair.
what happens to it? the question arrives without permission. what happens to your work if you never return?what happens to your apartment? your students? your mother?
your mother. you shut your eyes again. does she know you’re gone? has she called you? perhaps she has already noticed. perhaps nobody has.
you don’t know which possibility hurts more. your phone could still be lying somewhere in your apartment. your bag might still be on the floor beside the couch. the candle from your office-
your breathing catches. did you blow it out? you can’t remember. you sit upright so quickly that the room tilts. your heart pounds, your fingers cool down.
the candle. you had left work. no, you packed your things. did you put it out? of course you did. probably. you always did. didn’t you?
“stop.” you grip your hair. you used to like it when people would tug at your head, the sting a nice stimulant. now it is useless, it won’t calm you down.
you can’t check. you can’t call anyone. you can’t go back and make sure the fucking candle isn’t burning down your office because your office does not exist here.
not yet. the thought makes you nauseous. your life exists somewhere fifteen years ahead of you - perhaps. you don’t even know that. because if this is actually 2014, then the woman you were yesterday doesn’t exist.
not here. not yet. you look toward the black phone lying beside the bed. 24.10.2014 had become 25.10.2014 sometime while you slept.
time moved. that frightens you more than the date itself. this place isn’t waiting for you to understand it. it simply continues, with or without your permission. you pull your knees toward your chest and then another thought arrives.
jeongguk. your eyes close.
alive.
the word should make you happy. somewhere in this city, jeon jeongguk is alive; probably sleeping or practicing. knowing him - knowing what you know about him - probably practicing. his heart is beating, his lungs are working. his ridiculous reddish hair is still attached to his head.
yesterday he sat beside you, his knee touched yours. he complained about choreography. he ate lunch and he laughed, nose scrunching up in the way you have seen on many pictures before. he took your phone directly out of your hands as though touching something that belonged to you required no permission at all. alive.
your bottom lip trembles. how?
you look around the room as though someone might finally answer. nothing. because that’s the part you cannot reconcile. you remember the headline, remember every letter that burned itself into your retina. you remember sitting in your office.
you remember the weight in your chest when you understood what those words meant.
JEON JUNG KOOK.
dead.
you had cried for him. you had gone home because you couldn’t work. you had fallen asleep grieving a man who would never know you existed, and then you woke up in a life where he apparently already did. your stomach twists as you bury your face between your knees. you don’t understand why.
why 2014? why korea? why this girl? why does she have your face? why does your mother exist here? why does your body know things you don’t? why does jaemin look at you like he has known you for most of his life? why does jeongguk say your name like it belongs naturally inside his mouth? and why-
your breath shudders. why him? you don’t want that question to have an answer. because somewhere underneath all the confusion sits a possibility you have deliberately avoided since yesterday.
you know when he dies. fifteen years from now, you know exactly what waits for him. your fingers tighten around your legs. no, you don’t know why you’re here. you don’t know whether yesterday can be changed. you don’t even know whether there is something to change. all you know is that yesterday, jeon jeongguk died at thirty-two.
and today-
your phone vibrates. you flinch, its unexpected vibration against your mattress reaches your leg. the sound is offensively loud inside the quiet room.
once. then nothing.
you stare at it. the screen illuminates - a message. and for several seconds, you don’t dare to move. don’t want to. moving would make the realization hit harder. you are still trapped, still in the unknown and somehow can’t escape. taking a deep breath, you roll back your shoulders and then you reach for it.
jeongguk
your heart sinks, you can’t bring yourself to open it. this is not real. it won’t be, you can’t allow it. you simply sit there, staring at his name until the screen turns black again.
fifteen years. you have fifteen years before a dead man dies.
the thought sits heavy inside your stomach. you stare at the black screen long after jeongguk’s name disappears from it, your own reflection barely visible against the glass.
fifteen years. fifteen whole years. you would be thirty-two again by then and he would be-
“no.”
your voice cuts through the room, the first time it sounds so clear. you throw the phone onto the empty space beside you, perhaps a little harder than necessary. it bounces once against the mattress before settling close to your pillow.
no. abso-fucking-lutely not. you aren’t doing this.
you aren’t going to sit here and convince yourself that some higher power, some strange crack in the universe, has ripped you out of your life and thrown you fifteen years into the past so you could prevent a car accident.
that would be insane. you aren’t some chosen protagonist from one of those badly translated fantasy novels you used to read during your teenage years. there is no mission. no prophecy. no convenient explanation waiting underneath your pillow.
hell, you don’t even know whether you are actually in the past. maybe you finally snapped. oddly, the idea almost comforts you. a psychotic episode could be treated. a brain tumor could be detected. some strange neurological condition could be diagnosed and written down neatly on a sheet of paper with words you would spend three weeks googling despite the doctor explicitly telling you not to.
those things have explanations.
this? doesn’t. your phone vibrates again. your entire body tenses, you look at it. don’t. you really shouldn’t. the screen lights up, weaker than your old phone.
jeongguk
again - you don’t reach for it, a hidden power holding your hands tightly against your body.
“stop.”
as though he could hear you. as though the boy somewhere across seoul has any idea that seeing his name makes you feel like somebody has reached directly between your ribs and squeezed. the screen turns black and quiet returns.
you pull your knees against your chest and for several minutes, you simply breathe. outside, the city continues without you. cars pass underneath the window. a door slams somewhere in the building. somebody laughs loudly enough for their voice to travel through the thin walls, followed by another person telling them to keep quiet.
normal. everything is horrifyingly normal. you wonder what saturday sounds like back home. your home. maybe your neighbors are vacuuming. the woman living underneath you might be watering the ridiculous number of plants covering her balcony. maybe the bakery around the corner has already sold out of those pastries you always claim you don’t particularly like before buying two anyway.
your office would be empty. your desk- you squeeze your eyes shut. don’t. your mother had already found you crying twice within less than twenty-four hours. you don’t want there to be a third. not yet. you need air.
—
your mother barely looks away from whatever she is doing in the kitchen when you appear dressed some time later.
“where are you going?”
you stop. hm, good question. your hands disappear into the pockets of a jacket you found hanging behind the bedroom door.
the jacket, not yours.
“out.” you cringe at your own answer. you know that she hates short answers, know that she will pinch your cheeks if you continue.
she turns her head, her stare could have been taken directly from your own time. you almost laugh. “out where?”
“just…” you gesture vaguely toward the front door, making a fool of yourself. “outside.”
“with jaemin?”
“no.”
“then with who?”
“myself?”
your mother slowly lowers the knife in her hand. “why are you answering everything like a question today?”
you open your mouth and close it again. you clear your throat and rock back and forth on the heels of your feet, “i don’t know?”
her eyebrows shoot upward. fuck.
you straighten your spine and still any kind of movement. try to stay normal, just be yourself. “i’m going for a walk.”
better. the suspicion doesn’t disappear entirely, but she eventually turns back toward the vegetables on the counter.
“take a scarf.”
“it’s not that cold.”
“take one anyway.”
“mami-”
“you were sick yesterday.” you flinch. well, you weren’t really, but apparently your sore-throat excuse has developed consequences.
sighing, you round your shoulders a bit. “fine.”
“and answer your phone.” your hand stills halfway toward the scarf hanging beside the entrance, eyes widening at her request. huh?
“what?” you voice comes out stiffened. great way of staying normal, really.
“your phone.” she points the knife toward your pocket without even looking at you. “it has been vibrating the whole morning.”
heat immediately crawls up your neck. “right.”
“jaemin?”
you hesitate. “uh, no, he- yeah, no.”
your mother hums and you wait, holding onto hope that your fuck ass acting was convincing enough. you used to be better at lying than this, ugh. when nothing else follows, you sigh and thank god quietly, head thrown back into your neck. you tie the scarf around your neck badly enough that she eventually walks over, clicks her tongue and fixes it herself. for a second, her fingers brush beneath your chin and you go very still. she doesn’t notice.
“there.” she sends you one of her smiles, the one that expresses more than words could ever.
your mother pats your cheek. “don’t stay out too long.”
you look at her, really look at her; the faint line between her eyebrows hasn’t appeared yet. there are no grey strands hiding amongst her hair. her hands look smoother. even the perfume she wears is different, something she stopped buying years ago because, according to her, they changed the formula and ruined it.
you remember laughing at her. you would give anything to hear older her complain about it now.
swallowing the frog in your throat, you just nod. “okay.”
though your voice cracks slightly. before she can notice, you open the door.
—
you realize rather quickly that leaving without knowing where you are going creates a new problem. you stand outside the building for almost an entire minute.
left. right. left? right?
you look between both directions. nothing. no recognition. the street that seemed strangely familiar yesterday now looks exactly as foreign as it should.
a man passes you carrying two plastic bags, making you step aside. a group of children runs past, one of them nearly hitting your arm with a school bag. you continue standing. well… great.
you could go back upstairs. you crane your neck to look up the grey building you just came out of.
absolutely not. left it is. your feet disagree. you take one step toward the left before stopping. something feels wrong. not danger, not fear. nothing, really. it just feels wrong. your brows furrow as you turn around.
right. the tension disappears. you stare down at your shoes.
“seriously?” you deadpan, almost like the universe has told you a bad joke.
nothing. obviously. you start walking right this time and then continue straight up. you reach the end of the street and slow down again. uh, you don’t know where you are, but your feet apparently do. they turn left before you consciously decide to- you stop.
a woman behind you almost walks directly into your back. you squeal in surprise, “sorry!” you bow automatically and she continues without giving you another look.
you straighten slowly, right. you had bowed- properly. without thinking. your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek.
“creepy.” you shake off the goosebumps and keep walking.
the more you pay attention, the worse it becomes. your mind recognizes nothing, yet your body hesitates nowhere. you cross one street, move through a smaller alley and take another turn beside a convenience store. when a bicycle approaches from behind, you step aside before its bell even rings. you know where the pavement becomes uneven. you know which staircase cuts through two streets.
you know that the pedestrian light at the next crossing takes annoyingly long.
you know - you just don’t remember learning. your pace slows and the city around you suddenly feels less like a place and more like a memory somebody has erased badly. traces remain, not enough to understand, just enough to haunt you. you pass a small bakery and your stomach twists before you even look through the window.
sweet bread. you know you like something from there, you just have no idea what. you stop once more, eyes dancing around the finer details of the veranda of the bakery. the woman behind the counter looks up, recognition crosses her face. though your blood runs cold at the thought that she might talk to you.
you decide walk away before she can say anything, shaking your head to no one in particular. “nope.”
your steps become faster. you don’t need another stranger knowing your name today, you have had quite enough of that. eventually the streets become quieter again, concrete gives way to patches of grass and trees. you hear children yell at the top of their lungs, laughing and singing. water dripping down a roof, a puddle forming on the side of the street. birds singing above you.
then you see the entrance, a park. something deep inside you settles. not really happiness, not exactly recognition either something closer to the strange sensation of remembering a word sitting at the tip of your tongue.
you have been here. she has been here. you tighten your jaw and scoff, turning your head away. “whatever.”
there are worse places for your possessed legs to take you.
—
you choose a bench far enough from the playground that the screaming children become background noise. for the first time since leaving the apartment, nobody seems to look at you, which feels good. needed even.
you lean backward. cold air brushes across your cheeks. the sky is pale, almost washed out. leaves scatter across the pavement whenever the wind picks up, scraping against the ground in short bursts before settling again.
you close your eyes, this is better. not good, but better. your fingers disappear inside the sleeves of the jacket and you decide to straighten your legs.
you breathe in for four seconds. hold for eight more. release slowly through your parted lips. repeat. the breathing exercise comes easier today.
your chest still hurts, though and perhaps it will for a while. your mind drifts despite your attempts to stop it.
home.
university. your mother.
jeongguk.
home.
your thesis.
jeongguk.
your apartment, the brand-new coffee machine you oh so desperately wanted to try. the headline, your papers, your students.
jeongguk.
“stop.” you exhale sharply, scolding yourself for being so, you don’t even know. you don’t want to think about him. not right now - you don’t want him becoming the center of this. whatever this is.
you lost an entire life. he is one person inside that loss. an important person, perhaps, but still one. you refuse to turn your grief into some romanticized destiny just because he happens to be alive here. your lips press together, a sound slips through them anyway.
quiet. barely more than breath. you don’t notice that you’re humming until the melody reaches its second repetition.
it is familiar, comforting. your fingers tap lightly against your thigh.
one note, then another. your shoulders gradually loosen as the melody continues. your fists inside your pocket open up, muscles finally relaxing.
you know where it rises. where it softens. where the voices eventually join-
“what song is that?”
your eyes snap open, your heart stops.
nah that isn’t right. you stare straight ahead. perhaps if you refuse to turn around and pretend that you didn’t hear anything-
“hey.”
fuck.
slowly, very slowly, like a naughty child caught stealing cookies, you look toward the voice.
jeon fucking jeongguk stands several meters away from your bench. of course he does, because apparently the universe hates you. he is almost unrecognizable compared to yesterday.
almost. a dark cap sits low over his forehead, hiding most of the reddish hair. an oversized jacket swallows his shoulders and his hands disappear inside its sleeves. there is no school uniform, no name tag, nothing immediately announcing who he is.
just a teenage boy staring at you. just a teenage boy being alive. your eyes sting. ugh, not again. you decide to look away, not in the mood for him to see that you tear up whenever you are reminded by the past- uh, future? whatever.
“hi.” your voice comes out small, as if talking to him is something forbidden. and for a while, it felt like that.
there is a pause, you don’t receive an answer. you guess he is unsure what to do, maybe even plans on just going back, now that he has seen you here. what if he thinks that you are some stalker? that would be horrible; the thought alone makes you cringe. however then leaves crunch underneath his shoes. one step. another step. you won’t look back. you hear the slight crack in his voice as he speaks up, a reminder that he is still in puberty. “you didn’t answer me.”
you do look back. “what?”
“the song.” oh.
“nothing.”
you hear his huff, can already imagine how annoyed he is with your words and. good. you shouldn’t care.
“how can a song be nothing?”
ugh, why would he be so persistent? you know that you slipped up.
“easily.”
“that’s not an answer.”
“then why did you ask?”
he draws his eyebrows together as his lips part, desperately searching for words to argue against your point. you almost smile at this, always been a sucker for winning at arguments. you guess you do understand why your friends wanted you to become a lawyer back then. back then. it should not sting that much.
jeongguk continues, clearly not wanting to back down. “you’re weird today.”
your stomach drops, and the bottom of your feet begin to tingle again.
he tilts his head, watching your eyes widen slightly. he speaks up once more, seeing that you aren’t going to answer his previous statement.
“actually, you were weird yesterday too.”
wonderful. another person who seems to know you well enough to recognize your behavior to be, well, not yours! add him to the list.
keep calm, act cool. “thanks.”
“i didn’t mean-“
“it’s fine.”
he becomes quiet again. that kind of quiet that comes when you wish to go back in time to prevent whatever you said before. you know it too well, but don’t find the energy to tell him it’s fine. nothing is fine, and you don’t even know if it ever will be. you assume that will be the end of it, of this interrogation. he must head back, you think; back to practice or home or wherever he came from.
it isn’t.
instead, he walks closer, you watch from your peripheral vision as he stops beside the bench. he hesitates, then sits. there is enough space between you for another person. the tension soothes out of your shoulders - you appreciate that more than he could know.
neither of you speaks. the children continue screaming somewhere behind you. a dog barks. life goes on, it always will. jeongguk kicks a leaf underneath his shoe, you can’t help but notice how worn out it looks, dirt clinging at it from all sides.
he does it once.
twice.
three times.
this time, you glance at him, though there isn’t much to see of his face hidden under his cap. he catches you, tongue poking against the inside of his check as he scoffs. you immediately look away.
“are you crying?” his voice comes out sharper than before, almost pressuring you to answer him.
you do. “no.”
“your eyes are red.”
“they’re always red.”
“no, they’re not.”
it makes you turn toward him, looking at his genuinely confused expression. right - of course he knows what your eyes normally look like.
you do what you suck at the most, apparently, “allergies.”
jeongguk looks around the park, eyes gradually working up to look at the leaves of the tree under which you are currently sitting. his gaze then shifts back to you.
“in october?”
you idiot.
“yes.”
“to what?”
“you.”
a beat. what the fuck! why would you say that as if the two of you are the bestest friends to best friend-
his mouth falls open. you can already him getting up and leaving you in the dust forever. you continue to regret the answer for approximately half a second before he lets out a startled laugh. not the polished laugh you know from interviews, practiced and only ever inserted when he doesn’t feel like talking. not the one caught through microphones and edited into compilations online. this one is louder, it is uglier; his shoulders jump with it, his head lulls down and his eyes squeeze shut.
you stare, like a deer caught in headlights, you just - stare. you should stop. should not do that. instead, you force yourself to look at the ground. look at anything other than the way his body continues to shake because of what you have just said. he recovers quickly after, his voice airy as he wipes off a stray tear, “that’s mean.” he is still smiling.
“you’ll survive.” the words leave your mouth, deadpan.
your chest seizes before you can register what you just played at.
you’ll survive.
jeongguk doesn’t notice.
why would he? he can’t read your mind, will never understand all these intense emotions you have felt the past twenty four hours, doesn’t even know what you know about him. he leans back against the bench, humming to what you assume is their comeback song. it’s familiar. it’s his.
“you didn’t answer my messages.” he says this time, almost as if accusing you for a hefty crime.
you swallow down your small lqugh, amused at his antics in some way. “well, at least i saw them.” you shrug.
“that’s worse.” he twists his upper body to look at you, offended that you would just accept your wrongdoings.
you copy his position, arms crossed in front of your chest, head tilting mockingly.
“how?”
he stomps his foot on the ground, once. “be- because then you ignored me on purpose!”
the genuine offense in his voice makes it harder for you to stay composed, triggering a nerve that reminds you of when you and your friends would tease each other. or when you annoy your mother by dancing in front of the tv while she tries to watch her favorite cooking show. it’s just too amusing to miss out on. you must remind yourself that this boy in front if you is seventeen and full of emotions, some of them he can’t even handle yet. he is not the man from your phone screen; the one that knows how to act and what to show, almost calculating each possible outcome of each breath he takes. not the person who would one day learn to hide irritation behind careful expressions because millions of people might dissect it.
just seventeen.
you retreat, “sorry.”
he seems surprised by the immediate apology, as if he waited for you to shoot him with something else he could directly throw back at you instead of.
it comes out strangled, “oh.”
“i wasn’t feeling well.”
and that wipes the amusement from his face, eyebrows raised and corners of his mouth falling down. “are you sick?”
“no.”
“did you throw up?”
your face twists. how the hell-
you feel oddly exposed and turn your body away, not sure where this reaction comes from. “why would you ask that?”
“you look pale.”
you stare at him, mouth twisting.
he shifts, eyes widening and his hand stretches towards you, “not ugly pale! but! y’know when someone looks like a vampire and all-“
“thank you, doctor.”
“i meant-“
“i know.” you don’t. but listening to him ramble on about that you look like absolute shit [which you already know ever since looking at yourself in the mirror this morning] does more harm than good. in a weird way, to be honest. it doesn’t affect your confidence; it just makes this whole situation even realer than you want it to be. yeah, you had a break down and ugly cried in the bathroom yesterday. and it shows, it’s part of you and this world you are in.
his sigh pulls you out of your thoughts. he actually sighs, shoulders dropping dramatically enough to make you want to laugh, against all odds. jeon jeongguk still makes you laugh, even as a seventeen year old guy with bad posture and too much eye makeup.
“you’re difficult.”
you roll your eyes, “you’ve known me for what? five minutes?”
silence. your blood turns cold. fuck. your eyes snap to him, and jeongguk’s eyebrows pull together.
shit.
“what?”
“i mean-” your brain races. what the fuck are you supposed to say? why have you always struggled to keep your mouth shut? fuck fuck fuck-
you raise your hands, flinging them around “today-!” he continues looking at you. “-you’ve been here for five minutes today, and y’know i believe each person becomes a different version of themselves as a new day arrives!”
the suspicion slowly leaves his face, instead it is replaced with some sort of enlightenment. “ah! That is deep, huh.”
you breathe again, hoping to cover the heaves of your chest by leaning forward.
“anyway.” you pull your sleeves farther over your hands and smack your lips. “what are you doing here?”
“walking.” jeongguk plays with the hem of his jacket, voice suddenly small.
you keep the distraction going, “very descriptive.”
“what are you doing here?”
“walking.” you parrot, smirking at his deadpan look.
he looks at you. you look at him.
his lips twitch, which he quickly covers by biting his bottom lip. “copycat.”
“you started it.”
for another moment, everything feels strangely easy. then his gaze moves toward your hands, creeping up your arms until they reach your eyes again.
“so?”
“so what?”
you wish you could snort at the pun, he wouldn’t understand though.
jeongguk presses on, “the song.”
oh, for fuck’s sake. you groan, head thrown back into your neck. “let it go.”
“you were humming it!” he insists, spine straight.
“people hum, it’s- like, the most normal thing ever.”
“i know.”
“then why are we discussing this?”
“because i don’t know it.” he shifts closer, doesn’t seem to notice he does. you do - your body stills.
jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice at first, the dead silence from you. he looks toward the path ahead, brows furrowed as though searching his memory.
“i thought maybe it’s an american song.” his head twitches once, “ah, i should have done your questions, maybe then i’d listen to more songs.”
your mouth dries. “why?”
“you listen to a lot of them.”
apparently. and you do, well, did? whatever, it is still useful information. you shrug, hands back in your jackets pocket. “maybe.”
“who sings it?”
you stare at him. the melody plays inside your head again. and suddenly you recognize it. not merely recognize. you know it, by heart. every breath taken, every syllable basically burned into your longterm memory. your stomach turns. it presses against your bladder, ugh. you replay the notes mentally, once. twice. there is no mistake. you have heard the song hundreds of times.
years from now. when winters had already passed. when seven young men who currently struggled to be noticed would fill stadiums. when the boy sitting beside you would no longer be able to walk through a public park with nothing but a cap hiding his face.
spring day. fuck.
“well?” he purses his lips, face suddenly closer.
your gaze snaps toward him. jeongguk waits. you feel cold underneath your jacket, your scarf suffocates you. song doesn’t exist - not yet. not like this. it isn’t even a thought, you suppose.
“i don’t know.” you look away, not in the mood to lie into his face.
he blinks. “you don’t know who sings the song you were singing?”
“humming.” he insists, elbowing your arm.
you scoff, “same thing.”
“not really.”
“you still know it.”
“i only heard it in a passing, not that deep”
his brows furrow. “where did you hear it?”
“somewhere.”
“where?”
“i don’t remember.”
“how do you remember the melody then?”
“why are you interrogating me?”
he leans away slightly.
“i’m just asking.”
“well, don’t.”
the words come sharper than intended and you hate yourself for it when jeongguk falls quiet. guilt hits almost immediately. you close your eyes. this isn’t like you, you never snap at people. you are past that.
“sorry.” your voice is sincere, jeongguk knows.
he nods, quietly accepting your apology. “it’s okay.”
“no, it’s-” you sigh. “sorry i just don’t really remember where i heard it and never dealt well with explaining myself. sorry.”
he watches you for a moment, but you don’t like it. not because his gaze is invasive. because it isn’t. it is simply concerned.
“you really are weird.”
you laugh weakly you aren’t in the mood to laugh, really. “so i’ve heard.”
“did something happen?”
there it is. your throat tightens and you shake your head, not trusting your voice as for now.
“you’re bad at lying.”
you pull your lips in to a straight line, “apparently only today.”
something changes in his face - tiny, you almost miss it.
“you always say stuff like that.” followed by a little giggle. he seems content like this.
but your heart gives a painful beat, goosebumps spreading across your body.
always. your mother: you always say that. jaemin: you told me. and now jeongguk: you always.
every person you meet seems to carry a piece of you that you don’t have. you look down. perhaps he notices because his voice softens. you wait for him to press on, urging you to spill your secrets. and for a second you begin to think that you would - as soon as he asks you will just tell him everything. you aren’t her, don’t know who he actually is besides a super successful pop singer who will die in fifteen years.
jeongguk shrugs when he catches your expression and looks down at his hands, “it’s fine. i sometimes also feel very out of touch with myself.”
something inside your chest aches. you mist have forgotten thag jeongguk has always been described as someone who is incredibly sensitive and considerate of others. of course he wouldn’t pressure you.
“you aren’t mad at me?” you ask before you can hold back, surprised.
he laughs airily, “no?”
a laugh escapes you, too. an actual one this time.
he smiles at that.
“you don’t want to talk about whatever it is, and that’s fine. i get it.”
your smile slowly disappears. for a seventeen-year-old, that was painfully considerate.
you turn toward the trees. “thanks.”
he kicks another leaf.
“you can tell me if you want, though. like, what- when, whenever you are ready. i have time.”
you don’t answer. he doesn’t really have time. you guess this year is the last one in which the entire group will have this much toke before their career skyrockets.
“or not.” he quickly adds, another kick. “i’m not good at that stuff anyway.”
“what stuff?”
“comforting.”
“i noticed.”
“yah.” his offended tone pulls another tiny laugh out of you. he smiles again. and for a terrible second, you understand why millions of people eventually love him. not the stage lights. not the performances.
not the photographs. this. the awkward boy beside you who has no idea what to say, so he simply stays.
your eyes sting. you blink rapidly, head turning away. no, you refuse.
jeongguk’s smile vanishes.
“are you crying again?”
“allergies.”
“to me?”
“yes.”
“should i leave?”
you look at him. he sounds like he’s joking.
his eyes aren’t and something inside you panics. you don’t want him to think that you actually have anything against him.
“no.” the answer comes immediately - too immediately.
both of you notice. you look away again, biting down your lip before another slip up could happen.
you try to save your face. “i mean- you were here first.”
“no, you were.”
“then whatever.”
his mouth curves upward. you wipe underneath one eye before anything can fall. the air finally settles down a bit and for a while, neither of you talks.
you don’t mind. surprisingly.
---
eventually, your stomach seems to decide that it has had enough of your bullshit. the sound it produces is loud enough to cut through the silence between the two of you, embarrassingly drawn out and almost painful as your stomach contracts underneath the layers of your clothes.
you still, eyes twitching in embarrassment. jeongguk's shoe stops abusing the leaf underneath it.
you don't look at him. maybe he didn't hear it.
“was that your stomach?”
of course he did. you press your lips together; gaze stubbornly fixed on a woman walking her dog several meters away. “no.”
there is a pause.
“it came from you.”
“you have no proof.”
another pause follows, though this one is broken by a breathy laugh beside you. you finally turn your head enough to glare at him, only to find his eyes already curved underneath the cap, lips pressed together in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his amusement. His face is rounder than the pictures you have seen before and his nose actually caves down the more he laughs.
“did you eat?”
the question makes your expression fall slightly.
you think about this morning. about your mother standing in the kitchen, cutting vegetables while something simmered on the stove. she had placed breakfast onto the table, though have you had no appetite and just went out for your walk. You actually love breakfast. yesterday hadn't been much better.
three spoonfuls of rice during lunch. perhaps four. you can't remember. then everything that had left your stomach on the bathroom floor.
well, toilet. details.
“yes.”
jeongguk's eyes narrow. “liar.”
you turn toward him fully now, genuinely offended. “stop calling me that.”
“then stop lying.”
“i'm not lying.”
“when did you eat?”
you open your mouth again, ready to fight for your honor. and, well, close it. he waits, a certain smugness dancing around his eyes.
your eyebrows furrow and you cross your legs. “why do you care?”
his expression changes in a way you can't immediately understand. not hurt, necessarily. more like confusion over why you would even ask.
“because you haven't eaten?” he states it in such tone as if it is obvious. and perhaps to him it is.
before you can think of an answer, he pushes himself off the bench with both hands, landing on his feet and stretching his back until something cracks underneath his jacket.
you grimace. must feel nice. “ugh.”
“what?” his arms stay above his head, lowering slowly with each breath he takes.
you shake your head, “nothing.”
he looks down at you. “come on.”
“where?”
“food.”
you stare, “i'm not hungry.”
jeongguk looks right back at you, matching your attitude, then, very deliberately, down toward your stomach. you wrap your arms around your torso, eyes narrowing. traitorous little organ.
“that could mean anything.”
“it means you're hungry.”
“again, are you a doctor now?”
he rolls his eyes, “come on.”
you don't move. he doesn't either. for several seconds, the two of you simply stare at one another, and you find yourself wondering how a boy who had barely been able to maintain eye contact with you yesterday could suddenly become this stubborn. then again, you suppose you already know. you've seen enough compilations dedicated entirely to that particular character trait. the thought makes you uncomfortable; you immediately push it away.
“i don't have any money.”
at least that should end the discussion. because you know jeongguk also does not have much money. he has to be careful, their sales aren’t that great as for now. Soon, even these days will be a faraway memory when he and the others will be able to buy whatever they want. your hand moves toward the pocket of your jacket anyway, more out of habit than expectation, only for your fingers to brush against something rectangular. heh.
you stop, sheepishly looking at him.
jeongguk notices. “what?”
you don't answer. slowly, you pull out a small wallet
of course. of fucking course.
you stare at it sitting inside your palm. dark material, slightly worn around the edges, decorated with a tiny charm you would never voluntarily attach to anything you owned. you don't remember putting it there. you don't remember buying it. still, when you open it, your fingers immediately know which compartment holds the money. a shiver travels along your spine.
“what?” jeongguk repeats.
“nothing.” you close the wallet perhaps a little too aggressively and shove it back inside your pocket.
the previous girl - you really need to find a better term for her - apparently prepared for spontaneous outings better than you did.
“fine.”
jeongguk's eyebrows lift.
“fine?”
“food.” you get up, “but i’ll pay.” you decide. he doesn’t fight you; his smile appears so quickly that you almost regret agreeing. almost.
—
you recognize the convenience store before you properly see it. that is becoming a sentence you hate. the green and white sign peeks through the buildings as you follow the path out of the park, and something inside your body responds before your mind can. your steps don't slow when jeongguk turns the corner. you already know where he's going.
you passed it earlier. that's all. you cling to that explanation even when your hand reaches for the door before he does. warm air immediately hits your face, carrying with it a strange mixture of instant noodles, coffee and whatever sweet bread has been sitting inside its plastic packaging for longer than any bread reasonably should.
a little melody rings above your head when the door closes.
you stop at that. jeongguk nearly walks into your back.
“why'd you stop?” his hand pinches the soft of your jacket, pulling it like that would keep you going.
you ignore it, wetting your lips. “i didn't.”
“you did.”
you continue to ignore him and move farther inside. you've been inside hundreds, perhaps thousands, of convenience stores throughout your life. they shouldn't be interesting. there is nothing particularly fascinating about refrigerators humming against one wall or fluorescent lights making every product underneath them look slightly sick.
and yet your eyes can't seem to settle. everything looks wrong. not dramatically wrong. worse.
almost right.
brands you recognize wear packaging you haven't seen in years. logos are slightly different, colors brighter in places you remember them being muted. products you know will disappear from shelves sit there innocently, lined up beside things whose redesigns you witnessed so gradually that you never realized how much they had changed. you move toward one of the shelves. your eyes catch a familiar package.
“no way.” You breathe out, picking it up.the material crinkles beneath your fingers.
you haven't seen this design since- you stop and think for a second. since when? 2016? 2017? you turn it around, reading the back as though there might be an explanation hidden underneath the nutritional information.
“what are you doing?” jeongguk's voice makes you shove it back onto the shelf.
“looking.” you don’t look at him, the shelves in front of you suddenly the most interesting thing you have seen,
“at what?”
“food.”
he nods towards the product from earlier. “you've been staring at that for like a minute.”
“i like to make informed decisions.”
he gives you a strange look before continuing toward the instant noodles. good. you exhale through your nose.
you have to be careful now. later. always. you follow more slowly, your attention moving from one shelf to another. you find yourself comparing prices without meaning to, mentally converting them against numbers that won't exist for another fifteen years. you even compare it to kebab prices, something you have done ever since inflation broke through. even the register looks old. well, not old. it is new. that's the problem.
everything you remember as outdated is currently new. your gaze drops toward your phone inside your hand. the tiny screen. the thick frame surrounding it. you suddenly understand why museums make you uncomfortable. everything inside them is dead. everything inside here isn't.
“are you getting ramyeon?”
you look up from the stain that caught your attention, at jeongguk who is holding two cups, one in either hand.
“which one's better?” he lifts them slightly.
you stare at both. you know exactly which one you prefer. apparently, so does your body, because your finger rises toward the left one before you properly decide. “that.”
he drops the other back onto the shelf.
you blink, hesitating. “wait.”
he looks at you. “what?”
“nothing.” you don’t even know what you want to say, if there is anything to say. a preference you don't know whether belongs to you or her. maybe both. somehow, that possibility bothers you more.
—
you find the drink by accident. or, rather, your hand does. you're standing in front of the refrigerator while jeongguk disappears somewhere behind you, and without really paying attention, you open the glass door and reach toward the second row.
your fingers close around a bottle and cold condensation presses against your palm. you stare, as something warm moves through your chest.
“oh my god.” you breathe out, you haven't had this in years, you had completely forgotten it existed.
for a second, you're no longer standing underneath aggressive fluorescent lights in seoul in 2014. you're remembering buying one on your way home years ago, complaining when stores gradually stopped carrying it, telling one of your friends that capitalism had personally declared war against you. a tiny laugh escapes through your nose. there. something from your life. something small and stupid and completely irrelevant, but yours.
“what so funny?” jeongguk stands a few steps behind you, two cups of ramyeon stacked against his chest, biting along his lip as he stares down at the drink.
you look down at the bottle again. “nothing. i just haven't had this in forever.”
silence. when you glance back at him, he looks confused. “you had one on monday.”
your smile disappears. slowly.
“what?”
“that.” he points toward the bottle. “you drank one on monday.”
the refrigerator continues humming beside you. cold air brushes against your bare fingers.
monday? you stare at the drink, as if its existence has deeply offended you. of course, you - eh, she did. because apparently even your nostalgia isn't entirely yours. you place the bottle back onto the shelf, bitter taste coating your tongue. “right.”
jeongguk's eyebrows furrow. “why'd you put it back?”
“changed my mind.”
“but you like it.”
your fingers tighten around the refrigerator handle. you like it. not liked. not will like.
you.
“i said i changed my mind.” you close the door and perhaps a little too hard, like your tone. the bottles inside rattle against one another. you didn’t mean it – you never do. But for some reason you can’t seem to control your emotions like you always do. Instead, they just seep through. jeongguk doesn't say anything else, but you can feel his eyes following you toward the register anyway.
—
by the time the two of you sit underneath the small awning outside, steam rises from the open cups and disappears into the october air. the plastic chair feels cold underneath you.
jeongguk had complained that it was too warm inside, which you found ridiculous considering the temperature outside, but you hadn't argued. being outside makes breathing easier. you peel the wooden chopsticks apart and stare into your cup. your appetite, which apparently had been loud enough to publicly humiliate you twenty minutes ago, has disappeared again.
across from you-
no.
beside you.
of course he sits beside you. not directly pressed against your side, thankfully, but close enough that you can hear him blow against his noodles before shoving an unreasonable amount into his mouth. His slurping irritates you. You have forgotten that in different cultures, it just shows that the food tastes good. you look at him, his lips that are now coated in that oily stuff, then catch yourself.
stop. you lower your gaze. this is exactly what you don't want to do; observe him, catalogue him. compare every little movement against things you've seen through screens. he isn't an exhibit from your future. he's eating instant noodles and that's all. that’s all it will ever be.
so, you eat too. the first bite immediately burns your tongue. “fuck.”
jeongguk looks up, cheeks full, cup placed directly under his mouth.
“too spicy?” you barely understands what he says, but shake your head while desperately trying to swallow.
“no.”
your eyes begin watering.
he relaxes a bit, “you're crying.”
you slowly turn your head toward him, mouth tingling. “i'm starting to think you enjoy pointing that out.”
his shoulders rise innocently. “you've cried a lot.”
“thank you.”
“just saying.”
you take another bite purely out of spite. it is still too hot. your eyes water harder. at least this time you have an excuse. and somehow, ridiculously, sitting underneath a convenience-store awning with your mouth burning and a seventeen-year-old boy judging your spice tolerance feels more manageable than anything else that has happened since you woke up. nothing about it asks you to understand. you don't have to know why you're here to eat. you don't have to know who the girl was to hold chopsticks. you don't have to know why jeongguk is alive to listen to him complain when a noodle splashes broth onto his sleeve. for five minutes, you can simply exist. perhaps that's why you don't notice yourself humming again.
at least, not until jeongguk stops eating.
“that song.”
your chopsticks freeze halfway toward your mouth.
oh, for fuck's sake.
you ignore him and finish your noodles, the two of you slurping and chewing in silence. it is actually quite nice, you think. The cold air is a nice contrast to the fire in your mouth, but it gets more bearable the more you eat.
“where are you going?” you ask after you guys finish and throw your trash away.
jeongguk points in one direction and he grins when you point in the opposite.
“home.”
“right.”
neither of you moves. strange. you've known this boy for less than two days. except apparently you haven't. you hate how complicated every thought becomes around him.
“you should answer next time.”
you blink. “what?”
“my messages.”
“oh.”
his ears turn faintly pink. “i mean, if you want, you- i just wanted to know if you are okay.” there's the shyness again. the sudden retreat after being bold, which you find painfully endearing.
“i will.”
his gaze lifts, stars dancing in his eyes, “really?”
“yes.”
“okay.” he nods once, then again. “okay.”
you almost laugh. “bye, jeongguk.”
you turn, about to start your walk back ho- to the house.
“wait.”
you look back, eyebrows raised. he gestures toward your pocket. “check it.”
“what?”
“your phone.”
you pull it out. there are three unopened messages from him, you finally open them. however, the interface makes you squint.
jeongguk notices. “what are you doing?”
“nothing.”
“why are you holding it like that?”
“like what?” he steps closer.
you instinctively angle the phone away, eyes narrowing, “i know how to use a phone.”
“i didn't say you don't.” his grin says otherwise.
you glare at the unfamiliar KakaoTalk screen. there are buttons where buttons shouldn't be. icons you haven't seen in years. “this design is horrible.”
“what?”
“nothing.” you accidentally open something else.
jeongguk snorts. your head snaps up, “don't.”
“you don't know how to use KakaoTalk?”
“of course i do!”
“you just opened my profile three times.”
“i'm tired.”
“you've been tired for two days.”
“maybe i'm chronically tired.”
“what does that mean?”
“it means go home.” you elbow his arm.
he laughs at your bashful gaze. You feel the heat creep up your neck. eventually you manage to reach the messages.
[jeongguk; 18:47] did you get home okay yesterday?
[jeongguk; 22:21] are you sick?
[jeongguk; 05:33] you left your english worksheet in my notebook
you stare. that's it. nothing profound. nothing world-changing. just a boy asking whether you got home safely and telling you that you misplaced a piece of paper. the knot inside your chest loosens slightly.
you type. slowly. painfully slowly.
[15:03] i’m okay. sorry.
you hesitate, thumbs circling above the keyboard awkwardly.
[15:03] keep the worksheet. you need it more than i do
jeongguk's phone vibrates, he reads it and then looks up, all offended. “yah.”
you laugh.
“goodbye.”this time, you actually walk away.
“you're mean!”
you lift one hand without turning around. his laughter follows you for several meters. and, for once, the sound doesn't make you think about the headline.
--
by the time you arrive home, the sun has already begun its descent.
you don't know how long you have been walking. long enough for the cold to find its way underneath your jacket, apparently, despite the scarf your mother had forced around your neck. long enough for the streets to slowly fill with people again, restaurants turning on their signs one after another as workers begin their preparations for the evening. you recognize the street before you recognize the building. again.
you decide not to dwell on that. instead, you shove your hands farther into your pockets and continue walking, shoulders slightly hunched against the wind. your phone sits heavily inside your right pocket. jeongguk hasn't messaged you again. you know because you have checked. not because you wanted him to message you, obviously. you simply wanted to make sure the device still worked properly.
obviously.
you purse your lips. “shut up.”
an older woman walking several steps ahead of you looks over her shoulder. you immediately look down. wonderful. you are now arguing with yourself on the streets of seoul. perhaps the neurological-condition theory isn't entirely off the table. the entrance door opens underneath your hand without resistance this time. you don't even notice what you have done until you're already standing inside. your gaze drops toward your fingers wrapped around the handle.
yesterday you couldn't figure out how to open it. today your hand knows exactly how much pressure to use.
you release it. “creepy.”
the staircase is worse. you don't count the floors. you don't need to, your body knows where to stop. third door on the right. the correct key finds its way between your fingers before you properly look through the bundle. you stare at it for several seconds. then unlock the door.
“i'm home.”
silence follows. you still underneath the doorway - those words, they had come naturally earlier, too.
not hello. not mom.
i'm home.
as though this place has earned the title simply because your mouth knows what to say when you enter it.
“welcome back!” your mother's voice comes from somewhere deeper inside the apartment. your throat tightens as you close the door.
shoes off. neatly beside the others, not kicking them of as you did yesterday. you catch yourself before you can stare at them again. enough.
“did you eat?”
you follow her voice toward the kitchen, finding her standing in front of the stove. something bubbles quietly inside a pot, filling the small apartment with the smell you had noticed yesterday.
“yeah.”
she looks over her shoulder. you immediately correct yourself. “i ate, ma‘am.”
her eyes narrow. an amused grin sweeps over her stern face,“properly?”
you think about the instant noodles, “well, define properly.”
“sit.”
“mami.”
“sit.”some things, apparently, remain universal.
you pull out one of the chairs and drop into it, elbows immediately finding the table before your mother slaps one of them with the kitchen towel. you pull it back. that too.
your mouth twitches. she doesn't notice.
“where did you go?”
“the park.”
“alone?”
you hesitate for only a fraction of a second. “mostly.”
that gets her attention. “mostly?”
you suddenly become very interested in a tiny scratch on the table, fingers swiping above it, “i met someone.”
“jaemin?”
“no.”
your mother turns around completely now. oh no. you recognize that face. you have seen an older version of that exact expression far too many times throughout your life.
“who?”
“a friend.”
“what friend?”
“just a friend.”
“boy or girl?”
you groan. “why does that matter?”
her eyebrows rise. wrong answer.
“it was a boy.”
the wooden spoon stops moving.
you close your eyes. “oh my god.” you should have just lied. though have you been called a liar far too many times today.
“i didn't say anything.”
“your face did.”
“my face did nothing.”
“mhm.”
you stare at her. she turns back toward the stove, though you can see the smile pulling at her cheek. unbelievable. apparently even across dimensions your mother can find ways to annoy you. oddly, you don't mind.
“is it the one you felt sorry for?”
your smile disappears.
huh? your fingers curl slightly against your thigh. there it is. This uncomfortable pounding inside your chest, as if you are betraying something, someone.
you could ask - you should ask. who is jeongguk to you? who had this girl been grieving before you woke up inside her life? how much does jaemin know? how much does she know? the question rises all the way to the back of your tongue, then stops. It all just piles up and it seems that everyone but you knows something; everything. your mother already noticed something yesterday.
jaemin noticed. jeongguk noticed. everyone seems to know a version of you that you don't. asking your own mother would not exactly help your case.
“yeah.” You now know that you must have felt sorry for jeongguk before. Even jaemin mentioned it.
she hums and thankfully, she doesn't continue. you watch her back instead. there are so many questions you could ask her; about yourself. about school. about why the two of you are living in korea. about your father. your stomach twists.
you haven't asked about him. not once. the realization arrives so suddenly that you have to straighten in your chair.
your father. you remember the scar. the package. how weak he had been. your eyes move toward your mother's back.
ask. just ask. where is dad?
four words. your mouth opens.
“do you want tea?”
you blink. “what?”
“tea.” she looks over her shoulder. “you look cold.”
the question disappears. coward.
“yeah.”
your mother reaches for another pot, you watch her. tomorrow, you nod to yourself. you'll ask tomorrow. you've had enough answers for one day.
—
it isn't until you step inside the bedroom that you notice something is wrong. you stop.stare. blink…the floor is visible.
“oh.”
the drawers you had torn open yesterday are closed. the clothes that had been scattered around your feet have disappeared, folded back into whichever places they apparently belong. the photographs lie neatly on the desk again, some stacked together because you had pulled them from their original places without remembering where they came from. even the school bag has been put beside the desk. your stomach sinks.
mom. of course. you stand in the doorway longer than necessary. she cleaned it. the mess you made while ripping apart somebody else's life because you couldn't understand why it looked like yours. your, her, no. ugh. mother cleaned it.
you feel horrible. not merely because she had to pick up after you at your grown age - well, technically seventeen, which does absolutely nothing to soothe your embarrassment - but because you remember the way she had looked at you yesterday.
she hadn't yelled; hadn't asked why half the contents of your room were on the floor. she had looked at you and understood that something was wrong. then held you. and sometime today, while you wandered through seoul having an existential crisis and eating ramyeon with a boy who should have been dead, she came in here and quietly put everything back together.
your eyes sting.
“seriously?” you rub them aggressively. you are becoming ridiculous.
you cry over dead celebrities. you cry over your mother. you cry over instant noodles. you nearly cried over a discontinued drink. at this rate, somebody could show you a particularly emotional-looking potato and you would collapse. still, you walk toward the desk and run your fingers along its now-clean surface.
“thank you,” you whisper, looking over your shoulder.
she can't hear you. perhaps that's why you say it.
your eyes settle on the notebooks stacked neatly in the corner. mathematics, korean, english, and underneath them, one with a plain dark cover.
you pull it free. empty. you stare at it, gaze then shifting to the semi co fotable chair placed in front your desk. then back at the notebook. you look over your shoulder, door shut close. and suddenly, for the first time every accepting that you seem to be stuck here, clarification hits you. you need to write, you must write. everything, everything you have lived through so far, everything from your previous life.
not because jeongguk told you to. you refuse to give him that satisfaction. you need evidence. the thought makes your movements more purposeful. you sit down, pull the chair closer and find a pen inside the first drawer. your hand knows exactly where to reach. you ignore that.
the notebook opens with a quiet crack. blank. no lines, no grids, good. something in you settles at the sight.
a blank page doesn't know you. it doesn't expect you to remember something you don't. it doesn't call you by a name that apparently belongs to two different lives. it doesn't tell you that you've always done something. you can decide what it knows. for the first time since waking up here, you have control over something.
you write the date in the upper-right corner.
25.10.2014
then stop. what now? hm.
dear diary, today i discovered that time travel is apparently real and ate instant noodles with a future global superstar.
you nearly snort. absolutely not. you put the pen down. pick it back up. if this were research, what would you do?
the answer comes immediately. establish the data-separate what you know from what you assume-document everything before memory distorts it.
your eyebrows furrow.
fine. if the universe wants to ruin your life, it can at least suffer through academic methodology with you.
you write:
what i know.
you stare at it, then scratch a line through know . that is too confident. you write underneath it.
what i remember.
you nod to yourself. better. your full name comes first, then your age. you hesitate before writing it.
32.
beneath it:
phd candidate / research assistant.
you add the university, your department, your office. the title of your dissertation, the paper you had been working on. your supervisor. your colleagues.
names begin filling the page faster. your closest friends, addresses, phone numbers, birthdays. the bakery around the corner from your apartment followed by your favorite order. the password to your laptop.
you stop. stare at that one. then underline it, the scraping of the gel pen across the paper filling the room. twice. because what if you forget?
your breathing becomes shallower, but you continue. your apartment. what floor. how many rooms. the color of the walls. the stupid crack above the window.
‘do not forget the crack!‘ you write vertically on the side.
you stare at the sentence. a laugh catches inside your throat, though it sounds dangerously close to a sob.
you turn the page. family. your pen slows. your mother's full name, her age, the perfume she complains they ruined. the way she takes her coffee. the show she currently watches.
your father's name. you stop. the ink bleeds slightly where your pen remains pressed against the paper. You will skip this one for now.
your siblings, your relatives, your hometown. you write everything.
things nobody would consider important enough to preserve. the way your mother mispronounces certain actors' names no matter how often you correct her. which cabinet at home squeaks. the stupid nickname your sibling hates. then you stop, your vision blurs.
no.
you blink several times and continue. because suddenly you understand what this notebook is.
not research. not really. an archive of- well, you. of a life nobody here knows happened. your handwriting gradually becomes smaller as you try to squeeze more onto each page, terrified of leaving something out, sloppier in the way you always complained about. You now understand those who write until their hands burn and the muscle ache; it is addicting. Writing each piece of your being, your knowledge, tiny information that is actually part of you, but you fear to lose. The ache is welcomed. then you reach the first thing you cannot categorize.
2014.
you circle it. beneath it:
seoul, south korea. 17 years old. high school student.
you stare. then: mother is here. younger. your pen hovers.
same family? question mark. same childhood? another. same body? you look toward the scar underneath your thumb. scar is the same. memory attached to it is mine.
then:
i understand korean. i don't remember learning korean like this. body knows places i don't. body knows people i don't.
you underline body. then write beside it: muscle memory? nah. you cross it out.
her memory? you hate that even more, deciding to leave that one blank. data privacy and such, you guess. next comes the people.
jaemin.
you tap the pen against the page, tongue peeking from the corner of your mouth as you narrow your eyes. close friend. possibly childhood friend. knows me very well. physical affection normal. suspicious of jeongguk.
you pause. then add:
mentioned “him.”
your mother did too. you underline it, even add an exclamation mark.
find out who “him” is without looking insane. reasonable objective.
then - you stop.
you know which name comes next. perhaps that's why you turn the page first. clean, start at the middle of the page and work yourself around it. your fingers tighten around the pen, then twist it around a few times, perfecting your grip, though you know why you are hesitating this much.
jeon jeongguk.
the name looks wrong written by your own hand. you have written it before, of course you have. his stage name, his nicknames, with stars, even hearts around it. perhaps in stupid notebooks when you were younger. in messages. searches. captions.
never like this. in hangul. never as data. you move on.
17. bts. alive.
your pen stops. you stare at the word. alive.
You draw an arrow pointing to the right, dies at 32. car accident. the room becomes very quiet. you force yourself to continue.
date?
you don't remember the exact date from the article. you had barely been able to read it.
location? you don't know. who else was involved?
you don't know. cause?
you don't know. weather?
you don't know. driver?
you don't know. your frustration grows with every line. for somebody who knows the future, you know remarkably little about the one event that apparently matters.you lean backward.
fifteen years. how the hell are you supposed to prevent an accident fifteen years from now when you don't even know where it happens?
then you stop. are you supposed to?
your eyes return to his name. that's an assumption. you flip backward several pages until you find an empty space and write:
things i do NOT know:
why i am here. how i got here. whether this is actually my past. whether my original life still exists somewhere.
your throat tightens, your first letter a bit shaky as you add:
whether i can go back. then, after a longer hesitation:
whether anything can be changed.
and finally: whether jeongguk has anything to do with why i am here.
you sit back. there. that matters. because you refuse to make the mistake of assuming that just because the last thing you thought about before falling asleep had been him, your entire existence here revolves around saving him. maybe it does. maybe it doesn't. you don't have enough evidence and there is something strangely comforting about admitting that.
you don't know.
for once, uncertainty becomes something you can put into a category rather than something that swallows you whole. you turn toward another page. this one becomes a timeline. not his. yours.
24.10.2029 -
you stop.
headline arrow office arrow left work arrow home arrow fell asleep to:
24.10.2014 - woke up here.
School arrow jaemin arrow plus question mark jeongguk.
your pen slows. you add what you can remember from yesterday. every strange reaction. every comment somebody made about you. You connect different comments thoughts, things that you noticed. It isn#t clean, it is so unlike you. You usual organization, thoughtful penstrokes; it all is gone, replaced by a messy page relecting the chaos in our mind.
then today. your mother. the park. the song. your hand stills. spring day.
you stare at the words, then aggressively draw a box around them.
DO NOT HUM SONGS.
another thought you write underneath:
do not mention future music / events / technology / people.
then:
THINK BEFORE SPEAKING.
you halt. that one might prove difficult. you add two exclamation marks.
then: figure out what happens if i change something small.
your pen stops. there it is; the first experiment and you immediately dislike yourself for thinking of it like that. these people, people that are actually real even from where you come from, aren't variables. they're real, alive, breathing. this isn't research. you draw a line through the sentence, though not heavily enough to make it unreadable.
you don't know why. perhaps some part of you wants to remember that you considered it.your phone vibrates against the desk. you freeze. the screen illuminates beside your hand, weak, not like your other phone.
jeongguk.
for several seconds, you simply look between his name on the screen and his name written inside your notebook. Eyes jumping from your hand writing back to the little screen with usually foreign letters that you now can read and understand.
one is seventeen. the other is dead at thirty-two.
your stomach twists. you don't open the message immediately [even though you promised him]. instead, you turn back toward the notebook. beneath everything you have written about him, you add one final sentence.
do not treat him like someone who is already dead.
you stare at it easier said than done. you can’t help but scoff thinking back at your first day here, when your eyes would burn as you mourned the dead singer who then happened to appear in front of you as his younger self. then another.
do not treat him like someone who belongs to you because you know what happens to him.
that one hurts differently, you can’t place your finger on what exactly, but it matters. you underline it once then slam the notebook shut. only now do you reach for your phone.
tags! 🏷️ character death | reader is a phd student | isekai! | reader travels back in time | angst | confusion | oc!jaemin | she is in denial for a while | jeongguk is a sweatheart | he just wants some friends | fluff | f2l? | kinda idol life? | some time skips | more to be added as story is still in work.
summary: After grieving the sudden death of global star Jeon Jeongguk, a thirty-something university researcher falls asleep-only to wake in Seoul in 2014, seventeen again and living a life that somehow already belongs to her. Even stranger, Jeongguk is alive, young, and apparently already part of her world. As she struggles with the loss of her old life and the mystery of the girl she seems to have replaced, she slowly realizes she may have fifteen years to prevent the death she remembers - without knowing what changing the future might cost.
not proodread! this is a teaser only!
*****
Blinking is a habit that one never really thinks of - it just happens and we move on. Life has always been about the act of letting go and moving on. The same goes for many other aspects of the human body - and life, in any matter - all that seem to go unnoticed until they stop functioning altogether. that one fine detail that seems to change everything.
Your eyes burn as you continue to trace each letter on your display one by one, the inside of your chest begging for some air. Each letter presses a new dagger into your heart, followed by a weight that settles over your chest. Has your heart always had this dull beat inside your ears, as if it was wrapped in bubble wrap and thrown into the wild ocean? The uncomfortable sensation of prickling on the bottom of your feet creeps up your legs, spreading goosebumps across your burning skin.
JEON JUNG KOOK (JEONGGUK) - (32) - BELOVED GLOBAL BOY-GROUP MEMBER DIES IN TRAGIC CAR ACCIDENT.
It was supposed to be a normal break from your usual research routine. Your laptop on top of the worn out table in your office suddenly blurs out of your vision, the bold red letters are the only thing your dry eyes seem to notice. It is a normal break, the one in which you sip your watered down iced latte and run your hand over your face in vain as you try to write down a new paragraph for your paper. usually, the smell of your candle would drive a sense of comfort through your heart; instead, it makes you feel dizzy. too sweet, too ashy, too-
It seems that this break stays true to its purpose - the origin of its existence - it breaks you.
What are you supposed to do anyway? You almost scoff, as if the article in front of you is just a bad paper submitted by a lazy student that has not done enough research. That you already have started to pack your belongings into your bag, not in your usual fashion of carefulness; instead in a rushed manner to leave the building to escape into your own, you don’t notice. That you don’t stop to bid goodbye to the janitor or some of your colleagues as you rush past them, you also seem to ignore.
The beat inside your head threatens to spill out your ears, and you don’t even know where to look at. what are you supposed to do? just go home? go somewhere else? do you even have any right to express such reaction?
the sound of the cars passing by, people walking by your vibrating body, the wind - it seems like you blend it all out. the streets are busy, to no surprise. everyone has a life to live, meetings to finish and dreams to chase. you do too. you should head back, actually. it seems that every fiber in your being longs to move back into the comfort of your office. your heart seems to overpower this urge, forcing you to continue with your escape.
as time passes and aching inside your heart spreads across your entire being, the door falling into its lock leads you to slide down to seat yourself on the hard floor. you barely register how it creaks under weight.
Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk has passed away. And you have no idea what to think - can you even do that? whatever you are going through right now; is it even valid?
you force yourself to blink once again, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as a reminder that your body’s natural functions have been limited for the past hour or more. each breath you force yourself to take enters your body shakily, your airways burning as if they were filled with glass splinters. your lungs are about to cave in yet you can’t seem to take a deeper breath - it won’t allow you to.
you shake your head once, twice until the soba spill from your throat like soft butter. you feel your shoulders brush against the hardwood of your door with each strong shake; every sob scraping away.
gathering yourself to get off the floor and move into your living room takes longer than you’d like to admit, as your limbs feel heavier than ever - almost lifeless as you drag your feet to your couch. your bag full of the papers and books you need to prepare for the following day laugh at your state in mockery, almost shaming you for having such an intense reaction.
shaking off this feeling, this shame, you fall onto your couch like a sack of potatoes, grateful for the soft embrace. all the moving around to change your place inside your own home has left you drained of any kind of energy you have gathered, your eyes once again losing all focus as you continue to stare ahead.
quiet.
for the first time in months, your head has turned void of any thought. as if it has finally decided to add a closing hour; you don’t think of any deadline, any research questions, not even about how you are supposed to explain yourself the following day as you have just got up and left.
everything is just quiet and it terrifies you immensely. like an endless hole that refuses to be closed, the only aspect of your brain that you feel is the pounding against your forehead.
dead.
the very same person that has grown up in front of a camera for the majority of his life - whom you also followed for many years.
he has died. and somehow it feels like a part of you has been ripped out of your chest and lit on fire.
you try to calm your nerves by taking deep breaths and exhaling through your mouth, though your lower lip quivers with each exhale, your eyebrows rise slightly to suppress your tears.
take a deep breath through your nose, slowly count to four. hold your breath for seven more seconds and then exhale through your mouth. repeat.
and as you try to keep up this pattern, a gentle smile, wide eyes and a soft voice find place inside your mind, finally breaking through the darkness surrounding your thoughts. the voice starts singing familiar tunes that you know oh so well, the dark eyes reflecting a light you have never seen before.
and for the first time in forever, you drift into a slumber without your thesis as your last thought.
for the first, and perhaps only time, it is him.
——
the screeching of your alarm sends goosebumps across your skin as you sit up hastily, your mouth dry and eyes surrounding by crust.
groaning, you feel around your bed, its warmth almost lulling you back into a second round of sleep - almost. like a pen slowly rolling down the table, the fog inside your head seems to clear up, and the realization that you are in your bed and not on your couch makes you open your heavy eyes.
have you been sleepwalking?
scoffing, you look around the colorful room, the blinds are up, allowing the gentle sun to illuminate your room-
wait.
a colorful room? in this size? your eyes shift down - white sheets and a twin sized bed? what happened to your king sized one? and to your expensive hand-made wooden bed frame? have there always been that many high buildings outside your own apartment?
adrenaline pumps through your veins as you take a better look around, your feet hitting the fluffy -leopard patterned- carpet, trying to leave your- well, not your bed. your chest heaves and eyes begin to dance around all the decorative pieces fast, wanting to piece together any kind of information you could extract.
your head snaps towards your phone - an iphone 4? - as your second alarm blares through the speakers.
where is your phone?
where are you even?
the view outside your window feeds into your confusion, the small alleys and huge buildings defamiliarizing you even more. where the hell are you?
suddenly, your name is being yelled through the door, with a familiar force and even more so known voice - your mother?
“get up already! you will be late for school again!”
huh? school? you shake your head. does your mother still confuse the university you work at as your former highschool? you already told her that you are not a teacher but a phd student and lecturer at your university.
a huff leaves your mouth, the confusion suddenly all forgotten as you move towards your door to greet your mom and tell her that her jokes aren’t funny. you couldn’t have anticipated that you would choke on your spit as you are met with your mothers younger looking face.
“did you get botox?” you ask instead, your voice softer for some reason.
kissing her teeth your mother raises the spatula in her hand in mock threat, eyes wide, “stop joking around and get ready already. jaemin will be here soon.”
she turns to work on some lunch box, muttering over her shoulder, “i told you your cat pyjamas need to be washed first before you wear it.”
your head snaps down to take a look at yourself. when did you ever buy this set?
with your heart in your throat, you quickly turn to look at yourself in the mirror, confused features replaced with relief as you truly see yourself in the reflection.
taking in a deep breath, you walk backwards to sit down on your- eh, the bed and try to make sense of your situation.
you are in a different room, in a different apartment placed in a foreign area all together. yesterday, you tried to get through your stack of paper that needed to be graded but then saw the news-
jeongguk is dead.
the back of your eyes start to sting as your throat closes up once again, all the pain from the previous day washing up and crashing against your fragile walls. your hands cool down and the bottom of your feet start to tingle again.
breathe breathe breath-
your hand shakes as you take a hold of the strange phone, hoping to call someone from your department to tell them that you won’t be able to attend any of your courses, the threat of crying at any moment too big for you to control for the time being.
though you don’t get all too far as your eyes stuck on the date.
24.10.2014.
twenty-fourteen?
fourteen?
must be a system error. you swallow down your dry cough and continue to search for your secretary’s contact, the perplexed part of your mind taking over. where are all your contacts who are these people taking their place?
who is jaemin?
who is your mother, why is she looking so young?
who even are you right now?
you look the same - or at least a bit younger than before. it seems like the creases on your forehead and around your eyes [thanks, academia] have faded away, and even your cheeks look fuller. your eyes are red from all the tears that left them yesterday; your lips stretch into their normal smile you note as you try out different faces on the phones black screen.
it is you.
but, it is also not?
blinking away whatever confusion you can, you get up and get dressed for, well, school.
it is only when you cringe at your own clothes that you accept that something is truly wrong.
a bad dream?
can one even understand that they are dreaming? in such detail at that?
as soon as you step out your room to greet your mother, she beats you to it as she groans and pinches your cheeks, suddenly having appeared in front of you.
“stop messing with me and put on your uniform!” she places her hands on her hips with a scoff, eyebrows furrowed. “i spent almost an hour ironing all your dress shirts last night!”
like a fish pulled out of water, you open and close your mouth, not even answering her ash she pushes you back into the room.
“don’t forget your lunch!”
before you even realize what happened next, you find yourself at the front door of the apartment, your white converse tied a bit too tightly and your uniform scratching your neck.
well, what now?
having no idea where you are and where your mother, well, the woman who looks like a younger version of your mother, wants you to go, you can’t help but wonder if anything that has happened so far is real. you feel lost, confused, hurt, oddly familiar and yet strange, jeon jeongguk has died-
tears well up in your eyes.
fuck.
a shaky breath leaves your mouth. maybe you should go out and find a place where you can calm your nerves for a second. try figuring out what the hell is happening and how you can get back to your own place - or just away from here, to be honest - and just forget about it. you want to cry, want to grieve and just, be anywhere but here. alone. as you always have.
your eyes trail down the hallway to the staircase leading downstairs to the entrance, at least you think. it is the only logical answer.
closing your eyes for a second to gather yourself once more, your feet move on their own, as if in a trance even. you don’t even bother looking around the halls as you love two stories down, don’t even worry about the heavy door that seems to open with a special technique that you aren’t supposed to know.
the only time you are able to wake from this hypnotic sensation is when a person appears in front of you out of nowhere, your body colliding with theirs. you tumble backwards but manage to regain you footing, eyes immediately snapping to look at the person; a guy.
he looks around your, well, not really, age and wears the same uniform that the mother told you to wear.
what was the name again?
“jae…” your own voice sends a shiver down your spine as you try to remember his name.
scoffing, the guy turns his head. his long black hair frames his round face, eyes rolling as he shifts in his place, “what? why are you late again, huh?”
his arm moves towards you and even though you don’t feel threatened in any way, you push him away, glaring at his actions.
his eyes widen and his expression shifts slightly, as if he has not expected you to react this way.
“you good?”
his head tilts down to look into your eyes, but you simply turn your head away, something inside your chest burning.
inhale.
“yeah- yeah. just- i don’t know. missed my alarm and woke up with a sore throat.” you try to look at him, really. you can’t explain why it feels so wrong, so intimate. as if you are fooling someone, playing with their trust.
“let’s just go.” you gently slap his arm in hopes to ease the situation.
waiting for him to take the lead, you clear your throat and look at his forehead. this way, it will only seem like you are looking into his eyes - hopefully.
“whatever.” he rolls his eyes and starts to walk; to school, you think.
you take this as an opportunity to finally look around your surroundings, surprise painting your features as you take in the clean streets and foreign architecture. why aren’t there any cars parked along the road? why is it so, how should you word it, cramped? house after house, apartment buildings tall and grey, almost like those in a futuristic film.
there aren’t many trees planted along the sidewalks, and it is quiet even though working hours have already begun.
following quietly after jae… whatever, your gaze shifts back onto his tall figure. his uniform sits a bit too wide on his shoulders, his pants are rolled up to avoid dragging in the dirt and his bag hangs on one shoulder.
this could be your chance to find out more about, uh, everything. but what are even supposed to say? everyone acts like it is a normal day, no one questions you. you seem to belong, though have never felt more lost than you have today. all you wanted to do was stay at home and grieve.
jeongguk. a car crash.
before you even allow your body to give out, you clear your throat and rub your eyes with the heel of your hand. you need to understand before you can lay down. need to find your way back. home. or at least somewhere familiar.
concentrate.
“say,” you begin, fastening your steps to walk beside him this time, “what is the plan for today?”
he looks down at your for a second and glances back straight ahead, his hands now inside his pockets in a lazy fashion. he seems like a kind guy, you note. like a best friend that would never say it out loud, but who loves you deeply.
you feel like breaching someones trust. and even though you have no emotional connection to the guy in front of you, shame seems to heat up your face.
“after english class you mean? thought you wanted to hang with that one guy-“ he groans as he cracks his neck, jaw flexing slightly, “forgot his name.”
huh?
you try to keep clam, keep it casual. you were a high school student not too long ago - you just need to find your groove back.
“yeah, i promised him.” your laugh sounds like a mixture of stormy nerves and a broken engine, worsening the urge to slap yourself across your own face.
fucking hell. just stay cool. it should not be this hard. you work with students all the time, all day long.
“have you studied for lit?” he runs a hand through his long hair, “swear i have no idea what that bordieu guy wants.”
your mouth dries. a test? an exam? bordieu? you could work with that.
so, you nod, looking ahead as a new building appears. large gates and trees peeking from behind.
“uh, yeah. stayed up all night, and, yeah. you know me.”
halting in his tracks, jae turns to look at you. really look at you. his dark brown eyes muster your face, tongue wetting his lips as he seems to think about your answer.
“you understood?” his hand reaches towards your ear [you almosy flinched back, again], “and just ignored my pleas? do you want to die?”
he pulls at your ear, not too harshly. whining, you try to duck away from his grip, you own hand holding his wrist, “listen! hey- stop that and listen!” you finally push him away.
upon seeing his sly smirk, you feel a familiar form of rage storm inside you. whoever jae has been to you- or well, this person, must have had a teasing relationship with this guy. and for some reason, amongst all the fear and confusion you have felt for the past hour, this seems to comfort you.
you find comfort in this stranger who seems to evoke these intense feelings inside you. for once in this very short time of feeling lost, you feel seen. you feel belonging.
“i just- well.” you should tell him the truth. get it out of your system. “my favorite artist passed away, and-“
“fucking justin bieber? no way!” he cuts you off, his hands immediately on your shoulders as he gently squeezes them.
you shake your head as your own hands rest on his wrists, fighting off the amused scoff threatening to leave your mouth.
“no! no! that would be a global disaster! but, ugh. i guess this one’s too? remember bts? my favorite member has passed away in a car accident.”
it feels, how should you describe it. like reality has really been set in stone.
jeon jeongguk has died. and this is the first tike you have said it out loud. and even though the dagger inside your heart continues to twist around, you feel like a tiny weight has been lifted off your chest. the first step has always been acceptance. you can’t deny the truth.
and as you feel proud of yourself for finally admitting to the truth, jae seems not to understand the importance of this statement. instead, he tilts his head to the aide, eyebrow raised.
“who the fuck are you talking about?”
huh?
as you take in a breath to answer him, he cuts you off before the first sound leaves your mouth. his hands wander down to the back of your shoulders, pushing you to turn towards the entrance gate.
“tell me later about that game. ms. choi will demolish us if we come late again.”
that name tastes sour, but you have to get him to understand. how can he just brush that off?
“but-!”
he seems to be fully immersed in to arriving to class on time, his hands immediately pulling your wrist towards the lockers as soon as you enter the building.
fuck. your eyes widen and your heartbeat picks up its pace. what are you supposed to do-
someone utters your name. it’s quiet, like a gentle breezeway in the air. though the tone, the voice seems to pull you out of your bubble wrap state. it’s too, how should you word it, grounding. it’s familiar. you need familiar.
confused, you look at jae first, though he looks at something, someone, past your shoulders. his gaze no where near as friendly and teasing as you have seen it before. he looks annoyed, almost. shoulders tense and brows slightly raised.
you turn your head to the other side, slowly, as if preparing yourself for another quest you needed to conquer, eyes immediately landing on the person wearing the same [ugly] yellow school uniform as the two of you.
you don’t even register the name tag as you look at the face- what.
the air is knocked from your lungs, your ears ring and for some reason you can’t move your mouth to produce any kind of sound, any kind of acknowledgement or shock to the sight in front of you.
what. the. fuck.
what is he doing here?
right there, you have jeon jeongguk in the flesh standing in front of you; cheeks full, eyes wide, yet laced with a certain shyness that runs deep into your heart, and reddish hair, covering his forehead and the majority of his eyebrows. his nose sits too big on his face, though you can’t help but find it endearing.
he calls your name once again, stepping closer timidly, head tilting as he tries to read your face.
even you can’t tell what expression you must have right now.
behind you, jaemin - you finally remember his name - slams his locker shut and walks off with his slippers scraping along the polished floors. you don’t know him, only having met him ten minutes ago, though you already wish that he came back. you need someone help you calm down.
you. need. to. clam. down.
exhaling deeply, you breathe out jeongguks name, feeling exposed almost.
“uh, can i- can i help you?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for the crack in your voice.
what are you even doing. here you are in an ugly uniform, standing in a foreign place - korea, it seems - talking to one of the biggest artists ever. or, well, at least his younger version. the version filled with hunger and fear, desire and anger. the version that yet has to achieve all his dreams, realize his whole purpose and potential.
giggling [he giggles because of you], jeongguk steps even closer than before, eyes twinkling, “you came late. i was concerned.” he nods his head to the side, silently asking you to follow him.
and you do, without hesitation. your legs move before you can register it, your mouth still and eyes wide as you step into the classroom.
looking around the rows of desks and scattered chairs, your head turns from one side to the other, eager to take everything in.
it is bright in here, more so than you are used to from your old classrooms. students sot on tables and talk in their friend groups. others film themselves, while some freshen up their make up on their phones.
your heart picks up its pace, and you can feel your bladder press uncomfortably against your abdomen.
where was the restroom again?
with a tug on your uniforms sleeve, you are pulled towards what you assume is your desk, jeongguk continues to lead you as if it is a natural thing. he doesn’t even question you, doesn’t ask you who you are and where you came from.
“i did the exercise you gave me last week,” he gently pulls on the fine hair along his face, “ah, what should i say. i don’t have any excuse. i was too lazy to finish it.”
his eyes shine with mischief, the left corner of his lip twitching.
sitting down, you decide to freak out later and just get through with this day first. it is not your first time seeing a member of the biggest boy group ever anyway. just pretend he is one of your students that need help with a complex theory that took even you a while to grasp.
you saw taehyung once when you were vacationing in france. though as any other fan would, you turned away and let the man be. easy as ever.
however now you have your favorite member - alas, his younger self - talking to you, as if you had been a part of his life. a normality. familiar. not even just talking, but apparently being your friend, someone he feels comfortable talking to. someone he wouldn’t mind dragging around.
you look down at his paper, your hand writing on it. it seems that ‘you’ have written some english words and sentences for him to translate and learn. half of it is left empty, whereas the other half is poorly worked out. you scoff quietly as you think back of the well known fact that jeongguk sucked in english back in highschool. well, he barely attended his classes, his life as a trainee first, later his rising popularity standing in the way of his high school diploma becoming a priority.
believing that your scoff is directed at him, his foot hits your under the desk, pulling a surprised gasp from your lips.
“stop making fun of me! i told you that i wouldn’t have much time this week. at least i tried.” then, a tad quieter, looking down at his hands on his lap and biting the soft pink of his bottom lip, “i am trying.”
his tone pulls at the strings of your heart. shoulders sagging and voice unusually soft, you shift in your seat and point at the first mistake on the sheet, hoping to encourage his learner’s motivation.
easy. you worked with various high school students, acquiring some kind of skill and feel on how to make them want to learn.
“you start well here,” your finger traces his hand writing, feeling oddly sentimental, “you used ‘did’ already. therefore, you don’t need to put the second verb into the past.”
you recite the old rule that tour own english teacher would drill into your twelve years old mind. it is hard to believe that the person you would curse out back in high school is now the one you go back to to teach someone else.
you continue to work through the exercises to the very last second until the bells rings, signaling that the lesson starts. chairs scrape against the tiles as everyone moves to their seats, the chatter dies down. you feel foreign yet so normal as you follow the other students as they get up their seats to greet the teacher, feel so relaxed as you sit back down and open your notebook. though you cant help but bite along the skin inside your cheeks or bottom lip, struggle to fight against the bounce of your right leg, brushing against jeongguks under the desk. your muscles tense up from the subtle touch. your bites along the inside of your cheeks intensify. it is warm, it is soft, it is him.
though it is boring, not enough to distract your sharp thoughts crawling around our mind, their claws digging deep. you answer when the teacher picks you to answer a question in english, keep your voice steady as if you have done this before.
and you have.
in your class, almost fifteen years ago. with people you almost always have had around. grew up with. shared memories and insiders with.
the flicker of the lights above your head doesn’t bother you as it would have back in your office.
your throat closes up again.
the only time you seem to wake up from your trance is when jeongguk daps yours waist, making you squeal.
rapidly blinking, you quickly apologize to your teacher with a bow of your head. your gaze shifts towards the guy next to you, glaring at his teasing smile.
“you okay?” he leans in to whisper, eyes wide with concern. his warmth closes around you comfortably. your gaze shifts down to his sloppy handwriting on his notebook, the way he has three different colored pencils on his desk even though they aren’t needed.
are you okay?
the short answer is no.
the longer answer would be that you feel incredibly uncomfortable and insecure; feel lost and yet familiar in this foreign place. your body seems to work in an automated fashion, making you blend in perfectly with the people around you. the smell
of someones convenience store sandwich curls around your nose, the giggles from behind you are a usual occurrence. though the gears in your head turn in light speed, your heart feels like jumping out of your chest and run away. breathing has never felt more like a task than it has for the past few hours.
“yeah,” you nod instead, matching his quiet tone, “just tired.”
*****
hope you enjoyed this! comments, suggestions and feedback would be appreciated!!
for the first episode, [name] has decided to do something chill, trying out face masks and different snacks! and what better guest to invite than ✨tomorrow x together’s #choi yeonjun and #huening kai !✨
[name] understands a decent amount of korean, and can also speak it, though she still feels more confident in english and her native language.
masterlist
——————
[name] has never been one to openly go up to people and talk to them. she generally has never been someone who talked a lot, even after being one of the few successful youtubers and content creators internationally.
it is not like she had any speech difficulties or an anxiety disorder, she simply liked to stay in her own space, quietly watching her friends and others around her.
so, when she was invited to korea to be the host of a new youtube channel, she tried to think of reasons to decline. it wasn’t because she didn’t know anything about korea and k-pop - quite the opposite, actually. she grew up with her korean neighbors, grew up with k-pop videos and songs and even the food, all thanks to her colorful neighborhood and unsupervised internet access. but, actually staying there for months to film with strangers in front of a crew she has yet to meet properly?
yeah, no.
the reasons to decline came out pouring down without any difficulty.
well, how can she now explain why she is sitting on a stool, getting her make up touched up by one of the few successful make up artists in korea, someone who has worked with many idols and other celebrities?
well, to put simply - [name] sucks at saying no. not that she is some kind of people pleaser, but missing out on such opportunity simply didn’t sit right with her [cousin].
she remembers whining to her best friend, and cousin, about it,
“i don’t even know what to do in front of a camera! and now i am supposed to stand there for others to see?”
she was met with a deadpan look, which made her realize how stupid she sounded, but the spirit to decline was there, she swears.
said cousin is also standing in the room [name] is getting ready in, acting as some kind of manager who explains the small details to her, eyebrows drawn together, focusing the ipad she has gotten for her new manager role [no one asked her to take].
“how much do you know about the group?”
her cousin glances up to watch [name] sitting still in the stool, eyes closed as the artist tries their best to cover her dark circles.
“eh,” [name] gently shrugs, trying to hold still as much as she can, “back then they were called bts’ younger brothers. but they got good music, and soobin’s weird.”, she adds, humming one of their songs gently now that she is reminded of the group she is about to meet. “i like weird.”
“will the entire group be here?” [name] asks, her stomach dropping at the thought that she might have to deal with five men at once.
her cousin walks up to stand beside [name], the sound of her nails tapping on the display louder than before, “nope,” she plops the p, “just choi yeonjun and huening kai, you wanted a chill episode.”
“and yeonjun’s supposed to be chill?”
“if the shoe fits.” her cousin giggles, standing now in front of [name] as the make up artist has finished the final touch ups.
“you actually look like an adult.”
“ugh,” [name] whines, slumping in her seat, “can i for once not be the bullied?”
“no, get up, we gotta do some mic check.”
and that is how she ended up standing in front of a camera, her crew members sitting behind it and her cousin giving her one last prep talk before they invite the idols in.
“wait! what do you mean, ‘invite them in’? am i not supposed to meet them first?! without the camera?”
“no, be quiet i’m trying to get a cute behind the scenes pic.”
[name] could hear the poorly hidden laughs from her team, glaring at them over her cousins shoulder. her eyes start to sting because of the concealer [what was even the point of putting on makeup if they are going to use sheet masks?], and her chest feels as if someone has placed a stone on top of it, even though the black long sleeve top she is wearing was anything but tight. everyone one else around her is relaxed, being already used to the scheme of working with idols, and [name] simply couldn’t find the strength to calm her nerves.
it is as if her nervous system has just understood that she won’t be talking to a camera in the safety of her own four walls. instead, she will be hosting a whole new show with strangers every week, filming in a country that she is not too familiar with and with people whose language she does not completely understand.
should she-
“i swear to god, stop thinking weird stuff. your thinking-face makes me want to puke.”
[name] yells out her cousins name, not believing what she is hearing, “you are supposed to back me! not make me feel stupid.”
her cousin sighs, placing her [surprisingly gentle] hand on [name]s shoulder, “listen, bub. you have been doing this since you discovered that youtube might be the chance for you to marry jeongguk-“
“-i was sixteen and had unsupervised internet access!” [name] cuts in, scoffing as her cousn continues,
“you are the doer. and no one can outdo the doer. be yourself, the same self that is kind , and weird, and does weird noises, and sometimes scares off the people around her with-“
“-excuse me?”
“-but that same self that has already captured millions of hearts! do you actually think you would have gotten this request if it wasn’t for how popular you already are?” her cousin finishes, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance.
“maybe they just needed a clown?” [name] shrugs, feeling her heart slamming against her rips. should she just make a run for it?
rolling her eyes, [name]s cousin starts to move to stand with the rest of the crew behind the camera, deciding against commenting on [name]s words.
———
“okay, three, two, one - action!” the camera man shouts, nodding once to give [name] the final signal to start.
“hey guys!” [name] starts with her usual greeting, her mind entering the autopilot state, suddenly blending out all the other people standing behind the camera and the shuffling,
“as you can see, this,” she gestures around, pointing at the cozy setup of two sofas, a coffee table with various sheet masks and drinks placed on top, and fluffy pillows and blankets all over the place, “is not my usual setup. as you know, i like to try new stuff for and with you guys, and even though this time this idea did not come from from one of your comments,” she takes a moment to chuckle, her hand brushing a non existent strand of hair off her forehead, “i still would like to take you guys with me on this extraordinary journey!”
“cut!” yells one of the staff, getting up to pluck something off her top, “great job! just introduce whom you will be with and your plans, we will give them the cue to enter.” they explain, as [name] nods, her eyes focused on the camera as she sips on her iced latte.
“okay, three, two, one - action!”
[name] takes a deep breath, smile already on her soft lips, “and obviously, i won’t bore you on this self care day with only myself,” she places her hands on her hips and jokingly rolls her eyes, the usual familiarity of talking to an audience that is not present growing, “today, i will be accompanied by two very talented, very cool, and fu- uh, i mean really tall people! make some noise for tomorrow by together’s
choi yeonjun!”
the crew starts to cheer as yeonjun walks out behind the beige curtains from the side of the room, shy smile stretching his lips as he waves at everyone and the camera, before he comes to a halt next to [name], bowing gently, which [name] copies as she turns back to the camera,
“and huening kai!” [name] finishes, turning to watch the man walk put, bowing to everyone in the room and towards the camera, only ever stopping when he stands on the other side of her body, bowing to [name] one last time.
“cut!”
[name] immediately feels her shoulders harden as she lets out a shaky breath, eyes switching between the two men she stands between in, “hello,” she greets them once more, bowing her head to show some respect, “my name’s [name], thank you for being part of our first episode.”
they bow back to her, not flinching back when staff members come up to them to do something with their hair or clothes.
“i once saw a meme of you crying and sliding down the wall while you held a slice of toast!” yeonjun says, voice wrapped with excitement, “one of my favorite memes.”
[name] cringes at the thought of that moment being the one that they know of her, though she still thanks him quietly.
“glad i could make you laugh, i guess.”
she feels the heat crawling up her back up to her ears, her eyes dancing around the two men in hopes to find a way to make her look less stupid, awkward, weird, helpless-
“my english is good,” suddenly huening kai speaks up, his gentle voice soothing the tension, “but i sometimes feel uneasy.”
[name]s eyes light up, “i understand korean to a certain point! i grew up in an mixed asian neighborhood! fee free to talk however you like.”
yeonjun copies her kind smile, suddenly feeling mischievous, “so~ how old are you?”
“i will be referring to you in a respectful manner in the English language, thank you.”
“aw, man.”
———
“okay!” [name] claps once, now sitting on one sofa opposite to yeonjun and huening kai, excitement pumping through her veins, “now that we have introduced ourselves and found our place on the couch, shall we begin with the masks?” she turns to look at the two guys, one [kai] more cheerful than the other [yeonjun].
“i guess…” yeonjun answers, leaning forward to look at the different sheet masks, “why is this one a unicorn?”
[name] gasps, snatching the unicorn mask away from his eyes, “this one is only for those who know ball.”
huening kai claps as he laughs, elbowing a pouty yeonjun.
“can i have that?” he kindly asks, voice dripping with honey.
nodding, she hands over the unicorn mask and moves to grab the tiger one, “i wanted that one!” yeonjun protests, hand following hers.
forgetting that she is supposed to be the kind and generous host, [name] pokes out her tongue, mockingly laughing at him.
“you snooze you lose or whatever.”
“you’re whatever-“
“okay!” huening kai cuts in, turning towards the camera, the crew behind trying their best to keep quiet, “now we will be applying the masks everyone~”
that quickly shut the two bickering parties up, a pretentious smile now on [name]s lips while yeonjun clears throat, taking a bear mask off the table, “i guess that one is okay.”
they all quiet down, eyes focusing on the mask at their hands until one of the staff members speaks up, “[name], don’t forget to explain what you’re doing.”
“oh!” her eyes widen as she looks at the camera, sheepishly staring at her cousin once who only facepalms, “so, we will first put on the masks, i also got some headbands-“ she turns to look at the guys, “and afterwards we got hot girl drinks and question games!”
after having their headbands [for [name] it is one with cat ears, which she head to pry from yeonjuns strong grip, while the two guys had rabbit headbands] and sheet masks on their heads, [name] slowly moves towards the mini refrigerator next to her sofa, taking out several drinks to share with the guys.
“oh! i love bongbong!” huening kai says, taking it from her hands. yeonjun settles for an iced tea, humming as he leans back.
“now this is what i call relaxing and working.”
[name] takes out a card game given to her by a staff, shuffling through the cards while reading some questions, “okay, this will be good.”
she clears her throat and sips once from her latte, smirking as she reads one of the questions, “okay, kai~”
“[name]~”
“what is the weirdest thing you have ever eaten?”
“i don’t really think that i have-“
yeonjun sits up, “he once ate crocodile, on accident tho-“
“yah! are you huening kai?” kai shoves his shoulder, loud laughter escaping his mouth.
“oh-“ [name] speaks up, quickly halts as she watches the two men shove each other on the sofa.
“my mask!” kai exclaims, pushing yeonjun away who apologizes to the staff, his hands working to keep his sheet mask on his face.
“uhm, why not apologize to me?” [name] asks, giggling as she watches yeonjun mock her with a teasing voice.
kai speaks up again, “nothing, really. i try to eat the usual stuff, and sometimes when we diet i also stay with one food group.”
“okay! next question for you-“
“-what about me?!” yeonjun interrupts loudly, eyes widen and hand on his chest to show the betrayal he is met with.
“haters don’t deserve questions.” [name] answers, straightening her back and crossing her legs with an attitude.
yeonjun laughs loudly, “i will tell your manager!”
[name] points to her cousin sitting on the floor, who looks at them with amusement, “that’s her, obviously she is on my side!”
“manager, please do something about her attitude!” yeonjun pleads, hands put together, emphasizing his wish.
“i’ll make her do the dishes later.”
“ha! wait wha-“
“cut! five minutes.” [name] is once again vut off, the camera still filming her shocked face as she watches her cousin get up to talk with one of the make up artists.
she scoffs and gets up to dispose of her sheet mask, holding the bin towards a smirking yeonjun and huening kai who follow her movements.
“do you at least feel refreshed and bonita?”
yeonjun hums, “i feel amazing, actually. it’s nice to be right.”
huening kai laughs at his friends words, clapping into his hands, “we won’t be ever invited again.”
placing her hands on her hips, [name] tries to look intimidating, “you are aware that you have to be kind to the host you just met! i was told that you guys would be kind and shy!”
“we are shy!”
“yeah,” yeonjun agrees, nodding his head he elbows kai gently, “beomgyu, who is also in our group, would be louder!”
“i know you guys,” [name] can’t explain why, but it seems like that she know realizes that she is talking to two actual k-pop singers whom she used to follow, “i followed you during your debut era.”
huening kai groans, “i was so small then!”
[name] laughs as she listens to the two members talk about how horrible they looked during their debut days compared to today, falling into a comfortable conversation.
moving to the sofas once more, the three of them settle into their previous places, conversation still flowing as their make up is getting touched up.
“well, yeah. i mean, i am kinda used to working on my own, so it was scary and unusual before you guys showed up,” [name] explains, head straight as the make up brush dances on her cheek, “but i guess you two being chill and just talking to me helps, also my cousin being here.”
“your cousin?”
yeonjun turns to look at the staff, eyes lighting up, “ah! your manager is your cousin!”
huening kai also makes a sound of acknowledgment, nodding as he continues to listen to [name] speak, drink in hand.
“yeah. i watned to decline this offer but she told me that it would be a great opportunity. ‘m glad i listened.” [name] laughs, looking down at her hands, a sudden shyness washing over her.
the three don’t even notice the camera rolling again, the team wanting to capture the genuine conversation happening in front of them.
and for the first time in the past week, [name] feels all the tension, all the worries and doubts leave her muscles, her jaw not clenching every now and then, her posture straight but relaxed, her eyebrows, usually unintentionally drawn together, ease up. maybe staying here and talking to new, especially famous people, wouldn’t be that hard.
“well, we already knew you, thats why we accepted.” huening kai confesses, scratching the back of his neck, hair falling over his eyes, “we are actually preparing for a new comeback, yeah.” he nods, looking at yeonjun who smiles at him gently.
“oh! that’s cool! when will it be?”
“ah!” yeonjun shouts out, making [name] and kai flinch back. “so you are a paparazzi!”
her head falls back as [name] groans at his comment, picking a stray plastic straw off the table to throw it at him, “shut it! i was just curious!”
kai leans forward, his arm holding off his group member from getting up to do god knows what, “anyway! do you like korea, [name]ie?”
you smile at his kind attempt to cool you off, leaning back, “well, even though i was told a lot about it i still struggle to believe that i am here and, well, y’know, now working with idols or whatever. like, its weird.”
“working here?” yeonjun grabs aome chips from the bowl, gaze focusing on the talkshow host.
“i guess?” [name] hums as she think about how to speak out her mind, “it is just- ah. like. i have been working as a youtuber for so long, y’know? i met so many supporters! but it has always been me, and well, sometimes my cousin.” she shrugs, suddenly wanting to end the conversation here.
thinking about it, [name] really has a lot to catch up on emotionally. even though she has not left home for good, knowing that she will be spending an immense amount of time in a foreign country, surrounded by a language and people that she is not all too familiar with, it does seem more than she anticipated.
“you’re doing well, though.” shifting in his seat, yeonjun pulls his knees to his chest, getting comfortable on the sofa, “i know for example kai here-“
“-why am i always-“
“-had loads of issues when we first started. we all did. and you have been in this game longer, kinda. you’re kind, i actually want to stay here for a long time.”
hearing his words warms [name]s chest, she doesn’t know how to respond to his kind words, choosing instead to thank him quietly, a shy smile dancing on her lips.
kai raises his hand slightly, “we should definitely call the others! soobin always uses that one meme of you where you randomly fall from your chair-“
“-can y’all stop using my memes-“
“-they would love to meet you, i know it!”
[name] rolls her eyes, a quiet laugh leaving her lips, “i’m glad you guys find me amusing. i was 17 then, by the way, no need to bully a minor.”
“nuh uh,” yeonjun raises his pointer finger, as if to shush her, “we appreciate you. you’re a legend, man.”
“thanks, man.”
“how come you understand korean?” huening kai suddenly asks, head tilted.
“eh,” [name] nods to her cousin, “our neighbors are korean, and they always wanted to have daughters, only ever had sons. so whenever they had the chance, they’d invite us over and feed us or gibe us presents. korean vocalizations are similar to our native language, understanding it is easy.” [name] explains, voice light at the fond memories playing in her mind.
“but you don’t speak?”
shaking her head, she looks at her cousin in question, “do you?”
her cousin nods, voice soft, “more than before, but. yeah.”
“ah.” yeonjun and huening kai say in unison, clapping quietly, “languages are always good.” yeonjun adds, throwing a thumbs up.
and that is how the rest of the evening plays out, comfortably sitting on the sofas, eating snacks and getting to know each other. at one point, the crew has enough footage to stop filming, granting the others to get up and join in on the conversation as well.
it is only when the group members really have to move on to the next appointment on their schedule when they slowly get up to get ready. yeonjun even made [name] give them cards to sign and hang up on the walls for the following shows, bickering never ceasing.
“we won’t always film here, y’know?” she says, watching them pin the signed cards on the soft board on the wall behind the sofas.
“still! we are first!” kai laughes, offering her a high five which she gladly accepts, “thank you, i had a lot fun.”
[name] grins at his comment, accepting yeonjuns high five as well, “i should thank you guys. this was my first day and you made it amazing!”
scoffing, yeonjun releases a confident laugh, “of course, we are tomorrow by together,” he turns to wink at the camera, blowing it a kiss, “stay tuned.”
“camera’s off.” [name] deadpans, not even reacting anymore.
she follows them to the door of the building, holding quiet conversations until they leave, their hands waving up until the van doors close she can’t catch a glimpse of their figures.
sighing, she walks back to the studio, mind for once completely blank as she reminisces the past few hours.
if this is what this talk show has to offer, then she truly is glad that her cousin bullied her until she agreed, moments like these making it more than worth it.
—————————
episode 1 ✨done✨
stay tuned for the new episode next week!
💕highlights of today’s episode are💕
yeonjun laughing so hard, some of his drink came out of his nose! he had to beg for the camera team to delete the clip entirely.
huening kais dolphin laugh when [name] and yeonjun continued to bicker, totally disregarding the camera and everyone else in the room.
[name]s cousin faceplaming multiple times over the course of the filming process, not believing that her cousin actually built a following with that mimicry whenever she talks.
yeonjun moving wat too close to the camera to show the glow on his skin after taking off the sheet masks, becoming the beauty influencer the community deserves.
getting to know that weird guy that seems to like whatever you do shouldn't be this complicated, right?
wc: ~10k
masterlist
--------------------------------
you hate it.
it’s the way the rain soaks through your dirty converse shoes, leaving your socks wet and your feet cold. the way you still have five minutes to go and no one to pick you up and save you from this misery.
you hate everything about this, though can’t you help yourself and continue to move on. if it means your best friend of 10 years will be happy, you’d even swim through a frozen ocean.
maybe it is time for you to invest into a new pair of your everyday converse - in black, never in white. then, you wouldn’t mind walking through the rain, hiding your gift under your worn leather jacket, cheeks stinging from the cold wind nibbling at them.
your eyes move up the wall of the apartment building your best friend lives in, two of the four windows glowing from inside. she has told you before that most of the residents would be out for the weekend, granting her the opportunity to celebrate her birthday. this also means that it will be loud, no need to worry about the police knocking at the door.
you feel the bass vibrating through your body as you climb up the stairs, mixed with laughter and the sound of sneakers scratching along the floor.
what happened to the no shoes inside rule?
exhaling gently through your nose, you look down as you take out the gift from your jacket, glad that the wrapping paper seems to be dry entirely. all there is left to do is ring the bell or knock on the door, just as you always do.
though, something makes you hesitate, your lower lip stuck between your teeth, shoulders tensing as you continue to listen to the music merging from the other side.
your feet sting from the cold rain that soaked through. you hate it.
“aren’t you supposed to ring the bell?” a deep voice asks from behind you, pulling a small gasp from your throat.
you turn your head towards the guy, dressed in black. his blond hair spills from the sides of his beanie, his eyes gentle and looking directly at you.
you turn back towards the door, “yeah.”
raising your cold hand, you push the doorbell, sighing as your fingers sting slightly.
the two of you stand there, waiting [hoping] for someone to open the door, and freeing you from this awkward silence.
you hear the guy from behind you inhale, getting ready to talk to you again as the door suddenly swings open, revealing your best friend with a certain glow on her face.
“babe!” she throws her arms out to hug you, her voice echoing through the hallway.
you chuckle, trying to dodge her grappy hands, “‘m soaked through, don’t want you to get wet.”
you follow her inside as she steps away, turning to greet the guy behind you who wishes her a happy birthday in that same gentle tone from before.
your eyes shift towards the open living room filled with many faces you have yet to meet, all of them in their own bubble, laughing, talking, some even dancing around. you only ever look away when you feel blond guy walk over to the living room, his scent leaving a trail behind him.
dolce&gabbana, the one.
“why didn’t you tell me that it was pouring outside?” your best friends concerned eyes meet yours, hands resting on your shoulders.
you shrug, pushing your present towards her, “what would have changed?”
“i’d pick you up, or whatever.”
“and abandon the party?”
taking the gift from your hands, wonhee moves to place it at the small table next to the door, “i still don’t understand why you didn’t sleep here yesterday, anyway. you always do.”
wetting your lips quickly, you straighten your back, “uh, yeah. james wanted to meet.”
wonhees eyes light up, “oh! is he coming later?”
“we broke up.”
both of you stand there, looking at the other in silence. you gently rock on the heels of your feet, hands stuffed into your pockets.
you chuckle at how wonhee opens and closes her mouth, as if wanting to grasp the right words to say, her eyebrows raised.
“babe, i-“
“‘t’s fine, promise.”
and it really is, if you are being honest. sure, it sucks that he broke up with you and went to a party right afterwards, but what could you have possibly done?
wonhee shakes off her initial shock and takes a step closer to you, clearing her throat, “do you want me to, uh, i don’t know, like, we can- maybe go talk?”
drawing in your brows, you scoff at her cute attempt to be there for you, “what? won, it’s literally your party? let’s go, have some fun and stuff.”
“and stuff?” she repeats, shaking her head.
you shrug off your jacket and lay it down onto the table, moving towards the kitchen to wash your hands. wonhee follows you, preparing a paper towel for you ti dry your hands with.
you nod, “yeah, stuff! won, i saw it coming, i was prepared.” you tell her, throwing the paper towel into the bin, “i shouldn’t have told you here, ‘m sorry.”
“shut the fuck up, you better tell me everything!” she slaps your shoulder, eyes wide in disbelief, “what the fuck? like, out of nowhere?”
you groan, “ugh, i guess? it’s whatever, lets talk when everyone’s gone.”
wonhee nods, though her eyes tell you that she won’t be letting you off that easily. the two of you enter the crowded living room, people immediately beginning to walk up to wonhee.
you smile and introduce yourself to some of them, though you can feel the tension creeping up your back, your wet socks making you shiver. you bite back your discomfort and reply to some of the questions directed at you, laughing and joking about whatever topic the others talk about.
whenever you could, you looked around the room to check who else you might know, hoping to find a way to move to a quiet corner, maybe get the chance to calm yourself down.
“hey, babe.” a familiar voice speaks down into your ear, hot air fanning your neck.
you head spins to look at the person, his beanie gone, revealing his [oddly purposefully] messy hair, his pink lips stretched to a grin, as if he knew something you don’t.
you take a step back, “that’s not my name.” you look back to the group, all of them engaging with each other, no one noticing that you aren’t there anymore.
“that’s what won called you, though.” blonde guy nods to your best friend, hands shoved into the pockets of his black pants.
his parfum slowly circles around your space, gentle, warm, familiar.
“yeah, she’s my friend.”
“what’s your name then?”
you tell him your name, gulping as he tests it himself as if he is savoring some expensive wine, his plush lips making the bottom of your cold feet tingle.
what is his deal?
“i think i’ll go with babe, i like it.” he leans down, chuckling as you scoff at his words.
“i don’t remember giving you the permission to do so?” you roll your eyes, arms crossed in front of your chest, “how about you introduce yourself first?”
“oh, so you’re curious?”
you cringe, sigh escaping your moth at this poor flirting attempt, if you could call this flirting at all, “no, but calling you blonde guy all the time seems rather annoying, y’know.”
“i don’t mind, but if that’s what you want, babe,” you find yourself following his lead as he slowly steps away from the group next to you, walking towards the kitchen, “‘m heeseung. wonhee and i go to the same gym.”
“the uni gym?” you find yourself asking before you can hold back.
ugh, so much for wanting to be nonchalant.
heeseung nods, opening the fridge to take put two cans of whatever soda he could find, handing you one, “yeah, ‘m a third year. we help the new ones.”
“cool.”
you take a sip from the frizzy drink, eyes looking around the familiar kitchen. having a gossip session here later when everyone leaves will be amazing, you can already feel it in your veins.
“you?” his soft voice lulls you out of your thoughts, big brown eyes directed at you, “you guys are, what do girls say, besties?”
you pull your lips into a straight line, “yeah. since kindergarten.”
“cool.”
you move to speak up, any excuse you could muster up to end the conversation and move back to the living room, though heeseung is faster, almost eager in the way he leans back against the counter.
“i saw you a few times, when you came to pick her up. you a biology major?”
he shifts in his place, hands behind him at first, than back to holding the can in front of him, fiddling with the clasp.
your eyes widen slightly, “yeah, how’d you know?”
he clears his throat, tilting his head as his eyes look down at the can in his hands, a [surprisingly] soft strand of his dyed hair covering his forehead.
“saw you talking to jake a few times, bio is his second major.”
you raise an eyebrow in surprise, “what a small world.”
“yeah.”
“yeah.”
someone come and save you from this weird conversation, please. you have no idea what heeseung wanted when he approached you first, though you wish to go back to wonhee and find comfort in her presence.
you turn to place the soda can onto the kitchen table, not in the mood to drink any ore than you have to. even though you have told wonhee that you saw the break up coming, you still find yourself thinking about it all, the way the words spilled from his lips so mercilessly, as if he didn’t grieve the loss of your presence at all. and standing here in a dimly lit kitchen with an [annoyingly] attractive guy does not help at all. back then, you would have not a conversation with a guy such as heeseung at all, loyal to a fault to your lover. you guess you still need some time to get used to it all, get used to being free to do whatever you wanted without any doubt.
“i,” you speak up, mind in a haze, “i’ll go and see what wonhee’s up to. i- i guess i’ll see you around?” you shoot him a small smile, hopeful that be understands before you leave the kitchen. there is no reason for you to wait for him to reply, you have to find a calm corner and calm down.
you really want to change your socks, you think to yourself, back now leaning against the cold wall opposite to where wonhee was standing with another group of people you don’t care about.
the red light, the laughter, the heavy buss flying around the room, it all zooms in to you, air sticky and salty a way you can’t quite explain.
james would have loved it, taking your hand to drag you over to the beer pong table, or maybe over to his guys, as he would call them.
you don’t miss him, not really.
this pit in your stomach is because of the loss of your usual routine, your familiarity.
you are used to hanging out with james and his guys, are used to text him every now and then when he was somewhere else. you always wake up to his text and go to sleep with the thought of him.
so, what now? do you have to create a whole mew routine now?
you hate it.
your eyes dart to wonhee as you hear her loud laugh booming over the other noises, lips stretching to a smile as you watch her throw her head back, her whole being shaking as she laughs at something you probably would not find funny at all.
fuck james.
you’ll create a new routine, get your groove back. why should you waver because of something so minor?
nodding to yourself, you push yourself of the wall, determination beating through your veins.
———————————
“what a fucking loser,” wonhee yawns, stretching her arms above her head in hopes to shake her tiredness out of her, “so he just broke up with you and went to kiss everyone at that party?”
you look down at the video playing on your phone, the smell of black coffee in the cup next to you sobering you up, “apparently.”
this is not what you expected to see when you woke up to wonhee clinging to your side this morning. it was the restless vibration of your phone against the nightstand that pulled you out of your dreamless slumber, a heavy sigh leaving your nose.
wonhee takes a seat next to you, her head tilts to look at your phone laying on the table. she hums, taking a sip from your coffee.
“ugh,” she gags, turning her head away, “no sugar.”
you close your eyes as you throw your head back, biting back a groan, “guess he broke up with me mentally, like, some time ago.”
“tch,” your best friend shakes her head, hand running through her straight hair, “he was always weird, and you knew it.”
“he was easy, though.” you look up the ceiling, thinking about the many things that you liked about your ex-boyfriend.
besides his good looks, he was pretty easy to handle, never made you say something twice, and was a great guy in general. well, most of the time. wonhee would disagree with you, telling you over and over again that she got this weird vibe off of him.
she must have been right, you think now.
you get up to start preparing a light breakfast, the tiredness from yesterdays party pulling at your muscles.
who cares, it’s all in the past anyway.
you hear wonhee shift in her seat, her voice light as she speaks up after a while, “‘t’s just, like, it came out of nowhere? didn’t you guys plan to go to visit his family next month?”
you hum in agreement, “he also wanted to move in together some day.”
it’s quite for a second, then you two speak up simultaneously, “men.”
your best friend groans, a gentle thud echoes through the room as she rests her head against the kitchen table, “babe, what the fuck.” she looks at you as you set down two plates with avocado toast, no emotion visible on your face.
“are you really okay, though?”
you think for a moment, “i don’t know. i guess i, well, maybe it still has to settle in? i mean, well, yeah.”
you quietly curse at yourself your not speaking properly, frustration pulling your words from your mouth, “he’s a loser. whatever.”
“no, for real!” wonhee is quick to agree, “we’ll try to forget about him, i mean- kissing four girls right after breaking up with your long-term girlfriend? really?”
you nod, looking down at the paused video one last time before you delete it, not in the mood to be reminded of such event again.
and this is what wonhee and you decide to do the following weeks; getting into a new routine, ridding yourself from all the reminders left by your ex-boyfriend, going so far to deleting his number from your phone even. it stings, you must admit, losing your favorite person all of a sudden and not being able to do anything about it. james never contacts you after the break up, and before you can tell, an entire month passes.
you don’t know how to grieve it, if you are being honest. do you even have the right to do so? you feel okay, you guess, you don’t cry whenever someone mentions his name in passing, don’t fall into panic when you find one of his forgotten hoodies in your wardrobe or whatever. though you fall back into habits that automatically include him; you buy stuff from the grocery store you usually wouldn’t eat, cook way more than a single person should eat for one meal, leave a spot on your shoe shelf for him, and much more than you realize.
this is why you hate changing your routine, hate having to adjust yourself to things you did not decide for yourself.
you carry the lunchbox in your right hand as the other pushes the heavy gym door open, the sound of sneaker squeaking against the polished gym floors bouncing off the walls. you should wait herein the hallway, no need for you to enter the gym and disturb your friend during her class.
“babe?” you hear a familiar voice behind you, a groan leaving you as you turn around.
“you know what my name is, heeseung.” you don’t bother to greet him properly, eyes lazily mustering up his figure.
you didn’t notice back then as he wore black, oversized clothes, but heeseung has a nice build, you must admit. his strong neck running into his broad shoulders, his arms muscular and his chest proud.
fuck men, honestly.
“and you know that i don’t care.”
“do i?”
“well,” he flashes you a cheeky grin, “you do now.”
“okay.”
he nods to the lunchbox you are holding, “here for won?”
“mhm, made too much, didn’t want to throw it away.”
heeseung walks past you towards the open door, his hand gesturing for you to follow him inside.
you hesitate, “don’t have gym shoes.”
he chuckles, looking into your eyes in this alluring, confident way that makes your ears ring, “we aren’t in highschool anymore, babe.”
“stop calling me-“
“i can’t hear you!” he yells over his shoulder, already moving to the mirror your best friend standa in front of, stretching her upper body while talking to some person you have never seem before.
you take one last breath as you enter the gymnasium, eyes darting around, hoping to stay out of any trouble. the last time you entered a gymnasium, someone threw a ball against your head, leaving you with a red print for the rest f the week, an experience you are not too eager to repeat.
you hear wonhee call out your name excitedly, her eyes shining as she walks to meet you halfway.
“‘seung said you brought me food?”
you smile at your friend, “yeah, made too much, since, y’know” you shrug, hoping to come off as unbothered [you desperately hope you do].
wonhee takes the lunchbox out of your hand and moves to a bench at the wall, hands already moving to move a piece of the bimbap towards her mouth.
heeseung comes to stand next to you, the warmth of his body tickling your arm, “nothing for me?”
you look into his eyes, deadpan, “no. only the ones i like.”
you blink at him as he flashes you his pearly whites, eyes disappearing behind his smile, “you could like me, y’know. just gotta give me a chance.”
“and then what?”
“babe,” he [fucking] whines, “you have no idea how fun i can be, right-“ he turns to your best friend who is occupied with shoving her face into the lunchbox, “wonhee? tell her how fun i can be!”
wonhee snorts, shaking her head, “yeah, real fun in the time out corner coach designated for you only.”
you giggle at your friends comment, ignoring the way heeseungs head snaps back to you. you walk to sit next to her on the bench, kegs stretched out in front of you.
“when are you done?”
“have an hour left, coach said we’re gonna play some basketball.”
you nod, looking around the gymnasium to see different kinds of sports being performed all at the same time. you also watch heeseung approach the basketball court, shouting something to the guys that are already playing a match.
one of them passes the ball to him, and they begin a new match. you listen to wonhee as she explains the different rules to you, her voice laced with excitement that you knew all too well, as the two of you follow heeseung who dribbles past two other guys.
“oh,” wonhee flinches, “that’s a foul.”
you turn back to look at heeseung who now stands a fee meters away from the basket, ball in hand. his head turns to look at you, pointer finger stretched out towards you, “this one’s for you, babe!” his voice booms across the gym.
sinking in your seat in hopes to dissolve into thin air, you can’t help but watch him as he bounces the ball a few times before lifting it to throw it towards the basket.
without noticing, you hold your breath, and it feels as if time slows down as your eye follow the ball that- bounces off the basket?
next to you, wonhee bends over, laughing ao loud that everyone else seems to stop what they are doing to look at you two, and you, for some reason, look down at your hands, biting your lips to prevent yourself from following your best duends actuons.
the guys on the court laugh at heeseung as well, though he doesn’t seem to mind, hand scratching the back of his neck as he looks back to you, sheepishly grinning at you and wonhee.
“what a loser,” wonhee finally calms down and wipes away a stray tear from her cheek, “i love whatever is wrong with him.”
“well, he must be having the time of his life, i guess?” you try to be polite, but you cant help but bite you lower lip to stop your self from laughing at the situation from earlier.
the way he looked so cocky, smirking at you before he threw the ball.
yeah, you would never let him live that one down.
wonhee scoffs, “by time of his life, do you mean him embarrassing himself in front of his crush?”
that makes you halt.
“crush?” you try to keep your voice calm, not wanting to show that her words affect you in any way.
she nods, bumping her shoulder with yours, “babe, heeseung calls you ‘babe’, i guess the reason is pretty obvious.”
you roll her eyes, bumping her back, “no, he does so because you call me babe all the time. he’s just annoying.”
“hee’s” wonhee wiggles her eyebrows, laughing at your face painted in disbelief.
“he’s, as in he is. you know, like, two words?”
“yeah, sure. whatever you say.”
“what is that supposed to mean?”
“it means,” she sits up, empty lunchbox balancing on her thighs, “that it would be cute, you and him, like, a thing.”
“a thing?” you echo, scoffing, “i just got out of a relationship, remember?”
“yeah? with a total loser.”
“you never said that before the break up.”
“‘m pretty sure i did, actually-“
“ladies.” wonhee and you look up at heeseung who now stands in front of you, the redness on his cheeks and ears now more noticeable than before, “coach wants to start in five.”
nodding, you get off the bench and take the lunchbox back, “i’ll see you at four?”
your friend nods, stretching her arms, “i’ll see you then, babe.”
your eyes meet heeseungs one last time as you nod to him as well, your legs moving fast together out of the gym as soon as possible.
you hate it.
——————————————
“what are you doing here?”
When you first heard the doorbell, you jumped out of your chair, happy to spend some time with your best friend and to debrief about your current situation even more.
What you did not expect, however, is to be standing in front of heeseung, greeting you with a handsome smile and his parfum pulling you into a gentle hug.
Familiar.
“that is not how you greet guests!” wonhee scolds you, already stepping inside your flat, her shoes placed next to yours on the floor.
“yeah! I thought you liked me!” a new voice, jake, speaks up from behind heeseung, his head peeking from the side.
You roll our eyes, “you, I actually know and like,” your eyes shift to look at the other guy, “it’s him I don’t know.”
The fake blonde shrugs, his smile never ceasing as he takes a step forward to enter your home, not caring whether he was invited in or not.
“well, babe-”
Jake turns to look at wonhee, “babe?”
Your friend shrugs.
“-you now have the chance to get to know me!” he leans down a bit, head tilting and eyes staring directly into yours, before he straightens his back and takes a look around your flat.
You groan, “won,” your hand closes around your friends arm, “what are men doing in my home?”
Throwing her head back at your misery, wonhee can’t help but let the laughs spill from her mouth, “jake said that he needed some stuff for the presentation, I told him to tag along.”
Your eyes widen, “right!” you turn to look at your partner, “I finished all the readings and wrote down which notes to add.”
jake winks at you, “you are the very best, thanks.”
He licks his lips as if wanting to continue, though is jake shoved away by his very own friend, who shows not a bit of shame.
“anyway,” heeseung shoots a quick glare to jake who complains about his friend under his breath, something along the lines that men used to go to war or whatever.
Ugh.
“yes?” you turn to look at him once and then move to walk towards your kitchen table turned desk, your laptop and different papers filling up the space.
Heeseung follows, “what are you working on?”
Your eyes scan through the different papers in practiced ease, picking up the ones you plan to give jake, “presentation, and my thesis.” You are too polite to ignore him [is what you wish to believe].
“cool.”
“yeah.”
You move back to the couch in your living room, wonhee and jake sitting there comfortably, talking about god knows what.
“here,” you hand him the papers, “just tell me what part you want to present, I’ll handle the rest.”
“thanks, man!” jake looks through the content, leaning back in his seat, “we can leave the-“
“say, babe,” heeseung cuts off his friend, “what is your thesis about?”
You hear jake behind you groan, and wonhee laughing at him, as if it is the most natural thing in the entire world. As if this has always been part of your routine, something that would never change.
You clear your throat and answer his question, moving to sit at the other sofa next to the others. Heeseung copies you, the cushion dipping to adjust to his weight.
“so,” he clears his throat, “heard you and james broke up.”
“dude!”
“yo, man, what the fuck?”
You sigh to yourself, amused but also tired. Even though you have just met heeseung, you can tell that he does not have any ill intention, he might be just curious for all you know.
Familiar.
You nod, interrupting the train of hate from your friends directed at the blonde, “yeah, he broke up, actually.”
“what a loser.”
“no, for real!” wonhee agrees, turning to jake [who gasped louder than any of your friends when they first heard the news] to give him the details.
You blend their voices out, looking back to heeseung who not even once looked away, “it’s whatever, kinda saw it coming.” You shrug.
“did you, though?”
You swallow, looking down at your hands.
Did you really? You believed that things between you and james were going steady, it was him that made plans for the near future, and also him who broke you off as if it has been obvious to everyone. Well, everyone but you, you think.
“yeah, I guess.” You don’t want him to know that you still stay up at night, overthinking every little interaction you and your ex-boyfriend had before the breakup. You don’t want wonhee to know either, she spent the past month trying to help you move on, you feel, well, guilty?
“I, I didn’t want to be, rude, or whatever- fuck,” heeseung straightens his back, voice gentle in a way you have never heard before, “’m sorry, like, it must suck.”
“it does.”
“well, I would like to get to know you, like, for real.” He explains, almost hesitating, or more likely taking careful steps, as if you would jump away if he dared to utter something wrong.
Your eyes dart to where wonhee and jake are sitting, engrossed in their own gossip session, hunched over her phone as if it carried the nations secrets [which it probably does, knowing her].
You lick your lips, “heeseung, listen, i-“ you take a deep breath, heart beating loud in your ears, “I just got out of a relationship, don’t you think it would be, y’know, like, unfair?”
Confused, “unfair?”
You look away, “you seem to be a great guy, heeseung, i bet you are, but, I can’t- ugh.” You sit up, looking at him this time. You never had any issues with expressing yourself clearly, it frustrates you that you seem to struggle now out of all times, “I can’t give you whatever you hope to have with me, in a, what- serious relationship? Not now, I don’t even know if ever.”
You bite the back your groan, embarrassed that you are actually having this conversation in the four walls of your own home, with your best friend and another friend of yours sitting just a few meters away.
And you can’t even muster up the strength to be mad a t heeseung, his big brown eyes sparkle as he looks down at you, hair framing his forehead in this stupidly handsome way that makes your blood boil.
“we can try,” he starts, eyes looking at your lips for a second, then movung back to your eyes, “’m not as bad as you think I am.”
you shake your head, “listen, I can’t do this- like, casual stuff. I need commitment, I need clarity.” You begin to explain, now feeling a bit shy, “I never thought of you to be a bad person, or whatever. I just, I need time to adjust to new stuff, and well, people. Including you.”
Wonhees loud laughter and jakes exaggerated gasp reach your ears, signalling to you that they have not been listening to this somewhat conversation between you and heeseung.
You bite your lip, feeling oddly exposed. You didn’t lie to him; you don’t need to. Everyone knows that you are person who works the best with her routine, with the structure that you planned ages ago, finding comfort in it all.
You don’t want to break his heart, can’t stand the thought of being the cause of someone else’s heartbreak, the same way it has been done to you. Heeseung genuinely seems to be kind and fun guy to be around, you don’t want to break that warm spirit.
“then I’ll adjust, babe,” he sounds almost desperate, you note, leaning down close enough for his minty breath fan your cheek, “just, one chance, all ‘m asking for.”
“and what, do whatever I want you to?”
Heeseung salutes, oh god, he actually salutes, raising his voice for the very first time since he entered your home, “when a bad bitch tells me to do something, I will, ma’am.”
Wonhee and jake stop their session to look at you two, catching heeseung saluting and you hiding your face behind your hands.
“not that you are a bitch, y’know.” He adds, smiling at your embarrassed yet amused expression.
Calming down, you shake your head slightly, “y’know, let’s just go with the flow, slowly.”
His bright face sent an arrow right through your heart, and you genuinely hoped not to be the cause if it ever disappeared.
-----------------------
Your plan was to entertain heeseung for a while until he got bored, which you thought would be soon, since you don’t enjoy going out and are focused on finishing your thesis first.
Wonhee has told you a few times that heeseung is the kind of a person that enjoys basking in the attention of others at a party, loves going out and meeting new people. Jake also mentioned in passing that him and heeseung have this tradition of going to new bars even outside of town. So, all you ever heard about him is that heeseung is not a homebody, not someone who would stay in to do some course readings or ditch a party because a new episode of his favourite series just aired.
He isn’t like you, nor are you anything seemingly relatable to him.
So, what is he doing here, laying on your couch in your living room, phone in his hands, as you sit on your kitchen table, elbows deep into some research papers.
Wonhee has told you earlier that her and a few of the others would be going out to this show at their main bar, jake and some other guys tagging along.
You thought that’s ‘some other guys’ included lee heeseung, the epitome of social butterfly, as well.
What you did not think about was him who knocked at your door half an hour ago, one hand holding a back of snacks and the other carrying flowers that now found their new home on your coffee table.
You find yourself looking at his relaxed figure over and over again, unsure if you are supposed to speak to him or not.
Thinking back, james never randomly showed up at your place to just hang around while you worked on your notes. He would just go and hang out with his friends, claiming that he had enough uni stuff for the day and would much rather spend his time blowing off the stress – whatever that meant.
Looking back, you start to doubt his loyalty to you in some way, even though that thought alone makes you want to empty your stomach. Are you really that suffocating to be around, so much that your boy-, well, ex-boyfriend sought for comfort in another one’s arms?
Heeseung seems rather content, laying there and playing some weird game you don’t know, his feet dangling from the side of your couch.
You clear your throat, “are you, uh. Would you like to eat anything?”
His head turns towards you, eyes still focusing on his phone, “nah, babe. ‘m waiting for you to finish so we can try some new snacks.”
That piqued your interest, “new snacks?”
He nods, sitting up now, phone laying on the couch next to his thighs.
“I heard they got some new chips flavours, and yeah. Wanted to try them out with you.”
You leave your chair and sit down on the floor next to him, back leaning against the couch. You reach for the bag, pulling out the first snack you can find, as heeseung finds his new place on the floor next to you.
“salty coconut?” you turn the bag of chips to read the ingredients, eyebrows drawn together.
Heeseung leans into your space to read it with you, his voice close to your ear, “bet it slaps.”
You hold your breath when you realize how close your faces really are, turning your head to look at him. His eyelashes are pretty, so are the little moles on his cheek. Did he always have that scar on his upper lip?
“you in love yet?”
You scoff, shoving his upper body, “as if. Just curious about what skincare you use.”
His teasing grin only deepens, “your love.”
“leave.”
“sorry.”
That is how the rest of your evening played out. Even though you wished to get some writing done, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your place on the floor, pressed against the side of heeseungs torso that radiated a comforting warmth your body seemed to yearn for.
With every new bag of chips you two tried, you felt him shift in his seat, moving closer even if it was just a centimetre. You laughed more at his terrible jokes, your cheeks buring from the heat rushing in your body. Maybe it was the familiar scent of his perfume that pulled you into a gentle hug, his addicting laugh and his teasing hand that caressed your neck from the side after he put his arm around your shoulder.
You hate changing your structured plans, hate that you have more readings to do next time you sat down on your desk.
But closing the door after waving him goodbye later that night, you come to the quiet conclusion that,
Maybe you don’t mind it that much at all.
--------------------------------
Scratch that, you do mind it.
Because how the hell did heeseung convince you to get up at seven in the morning on a Sunday, to go to one of his basketball games and cheer [his words, never yours] on him.
You are sandwiched between jake and wonhee, two gym rats that are a bit too hyped for your liking. The gymnasium is filled with fans, family and friends from all the players gathered down at the court, teams grouped up on their benches. You have yet to see heeseung, not that you are actively looking for him. You are just curious, last time you saw him hold a ball, he missed horribly, making you doubt if he was actually here on a sports scholarship.
“yo!” jakes voice booms next to you, making to follow his gaze direct down to heeseung who is approaching you three, a cloth? in his hand.
“hey, guys,” his gaze shifts to you, lingering a bit before he looks back to jake, “thanks for coming. ‘preciate it.”
Jake talks to him about the rival team, dropping some weird lore you wished to erase from your memory as soon as it reached your ears. Wonhee seems to be just as engaged, her elbows on your thighs to lean towards jake, totally ignoring you as you hiss out. This is the person you call your best friend.
“babe,” heeseung calls out, and you wish to smack his grin off his face that forms whenever you react to his pet name for you. He holds the cloth, which turns out to be a jersey of his, towards you, “for you. Would be cool if you wore it.”
Next to you, jake gasps, his hand hitting your arm in disbelief. Wonhee also seems to enjoy what for her must be a live theatre, her fingers pinching your thigh.
When have all these people around you gotten so violent?
You look at the jersey, its bright red and pale white inviting you to take it from his hands. You sigh, when you see his last name and the number seven on it.
“thank you, I’ll wear it with care.” You say out of politeness [yeah, sure] and give up fighting off the smile creeping onto your lips by the sight of heeseungs sparkling eyes, as if he genuinely couldn’t believe that you would accept.
You, too, can’t believe it, you think, as you watch him jog to his team, some of his mates slapping his back teasingly. Ever since you decided to give him a chance, heeseung has been nothing but a sweetheart, only ever offering, never deciding. But still, even though he only ever offers to go out on walks, to cook together, to study together and or to come and watch his game, you never decline, as if the word ‘no’ has been erased from your vocabulary entirely. Everything is just so easy with him. Heeseung is easy.
That soft spoken way of his, definitely not fake and pretentious as you first have assumed it is, his big eyes, following your every move. You cringe at the thought of it, but even his warm hands, the ones that gently play with your hair whenever you sit down next to him are all the reasons why it is so, how should you word it, calming to be with him, like a gently cloud swallowing you whole. You feel weightless, not caring for anything in the world when heeseungs around.
The game passes in a blur, your university’s team won fair and square, leaving the people in your section to celebrate at the top of their lungs.
The three of you are the first ones to move down, walking to the cabins to wait for your mutual friend – well, kinda-not-really-but-you-have-no-idea-what-else-to-call-him friend, in your case.
“what do you think about number eleven?” jake nods to one of the rival players passing by, hands stuffed into his pockets.
Wonhee and you follow his nod, her face ligting up as you scrunch your nose.
“heck yeah” – “oh hell nah.” You say at the same time, not even surprised that your types don’t match; it has always been like this.
Scandalized, jake turns to look at you, “what, why? Is it because he tripped earlier?”
You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words. “no, ‘m just not into blondes.”
“into what?”
Your group turns to look at where heeseungs voice came from, “forget it.” you shake your head, pinching the hem of the jersey you are wearing to draw his attention to it.
“here you go.”
Heeseung smiles brightly, hand scratching the back of his head, “that must be the reason why I played so well today, no?” he turns to ask your best friend who gags, her arm linking with jakes to drag him away.
“ugh, some of us are lonely!” she whines, not looking back as they disappear into the crowd.
You roll your eyes, twisting your body to look at heeseung who leans against the wall. His hands are in the pocket of his windbreaker; eyes already fixated on you.
He looks good, you note. Face flushed from his shower; hair dried with a towel and pushed out of his face. God really has his favourites, huh.
“you got a staring problem, pal?” you ask, giggling at the way he groans.
“way to ruin our moment.” he pushes himself off the wall, hand closing around the strap of his bag. He starts to walk towards the exit, nodding at you to follow him.
“our moment?” you ask, thanking him under your breath as he holds the door open for you.
Heeseung shrugs, “yeah. Star player, his cheerleader, he wins, they kiss type beat.”
You tilt your head, “didn’t know I got promoted to be your cheerleader.”
The walk to his car is short, some of his teammates dap him up, others congratulate him, though it all passes by quickly, leaving you two standing next to his black car. Without a word, he opens the door and waits for you to be seated before shutting it behind you, you watch him circle the car to get into the driver’s seat, his parfum now stronger in a closed off space.
The one.
“I like it.”
Heeseungs starts the car, one hand on the wheel while the other hands you his phone to choose a playlist, “like what, baby?”
“your parfum. It’s comforting.”
“’cause it’s mine?”
“because it is familiar.” You admit, not wanting to elaborate any more.
His brows draw together, eyes still on the road, “what do you mean.”
You shake your head, “can’t really explain,” god, you are such a bad person, “’t’s not like those other ones. They sting.”
“ah.”
Your favourite song fills the comfortable silence between you. It is always comfortable with him, you can’t recall a time where it felt awkward, a moment in which you desperately searched for a topic to fill the space.
He is the first one to speak up, “what did you guys talk about?”
You lean back against your seat, “eh, you have to be a bit more specific.”
His hand gently slaps your thigh, pulling a gasp from, “when you and won were making eyes at that one player.”
“we weren’t ‘making eyes’ at anyone! Jake just asked us if we found him attractive or not.” You don’t have to explain yourself; you know that. Though seeing the way his lips pout when he asks you about the guy, you can’t help but turn into jelly.
Fuck handsome men.
“what did you say?” heeseung tries to stay nonchalant, but you know better. The subtle way his grip tightens around the wheel, the other one playing with the hem of your jersey, are all obvious signs that he cares – a lot.
You shrug, repeating your answer from before “that I don’t like blondes.”
Heeseung hums.
----------------------------
“coming!” you yell out to the person knocking at your door, even though you can already tell who it is by the way he knocks exactly three times.
Swinging the door open, you first look at his leather jacket the two of you bought last week, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
It quickly fades as you look at his head, well, his hair.
His brown hair. Not blonde, the way it was just a few hours ago.
“the fuck?” is all you say as you step to the side to make room for him to walk inside, his airy laugh filling the silence of your home.
You shut the door and immediately turn to him, your hands already running through his soft hair.
Heeseung doesn’t hesitate and leans down, making it easier for you to touch him just how he wants you to.
“you like it?”
Ugh, screw him and his honeylike voice and his pretty smile and his neck and-
“i- what, like, why?” you find it hard to form a coherent thought, flashed by how good he looks.
He looked ridiculously good before, his blonde hair made his big brown eyes pop out more, but brown hair? And his soft pink lips? Heeseung better try not to provoke you any more if he values his ability to stand up right.
He shakes his head to mess up his curls a bit, hand moving to place a few stray strands in order, “don’t know, just felt like it.”
You gulp, hoping to calm yourself down a bit.
“looks good, hee. Even better with your new jacket.” You point out, a poor attempt to change the topic for a reason you can’t name.
His lips stay stuck in a big smile, twisting his upper body from side to side as if to present you the jacket one more time, “yeah, a really cool person helped me pick it out.”
“ah,” you walk towards your kitchen table, your own worn-out leather jacket draped over the back of a chair, “that one person who also owns a cool leather jacket? The one you always tried to steal?”
Heeseung chuckles at your words, draping his jacket over yours even though there are many other places in your home he could have used, “yeah, I kinda like her style. She is my style, to be honest.”
“yuck.”
“enough.” Heeseung picks you up, throwing you over his shoulders as you yell out in protest. He doesn’t seem to care, though, moving through your little flat in practiced ease, just as he has done many times before, until he reaches your bedroom.
Without hesitation, he kicks open the door, throwing you onto the bed, suddenly straddling you, “apologize.”
“what.” You push your upper body up to lean back on your arms, knee bumping agsinst the inside of his thigh, low.
“you ruined our couple-y moment. Apologize.”
“I aint do shit, hee. Get off.” You fall back onto your back as you try to push him off with both your hands against his chest. He doesn’t move, instead he plops down onto you, caging you between your mattress and his upper body.
“ugh,” you groan, head butting into his, “you are heavy, babe, get off!”
you are left cold when he jumps off, eyes wide.
“I changed my mind, come back.” You grumble, “you are warm.”
Heeseung ignores your [in his opinion fucking adorable] command, “what did you just call me?”
You lift your head again, confused. “what?”
He smirks, leaning over you this time, hands on either side of your head. His face is dangerously close to yours, his long bangs tickling your nose.
“you called me ‘babe’.”
You feel the heat creep up your neck. Trying to keep your cool, you search for the right thing to say.
“grown ass man getting worked up over a common nickname, by the way.”
you hear his hands slide over your sheets, his fingers playing with your earlobe. Has he always been this- bold? When did you two get this comfortable with each other, fuck, when did you let him get so close to you? Last time you checked, it was you telling him that you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you knew that you needed time to get over your past relationship and the wounds it had opened from your past.
Have you moved on? You think so. Are you ready for something new? You don’t know. And this scares you more than you realized, not knowing, not having an opinion, a plan to organize it all.
Thinking back to the past few weeks, you have not been planning anything at all. With heeseung around, you didn’t need to. He would show up whenever, somehow always knowing where you were. His charming smile luring you in to follow him into whatever adventure he has planned for the two of you. He knew exactly what to say to push your buttons, knew how to tilt his head and soften his voice to soften your hardened features when his teasing went too far. He never went too far though, if you are being honest. Not then, not now, here, leaning down closer and closer to your face, his hot breath on your lips.
You should say something, tell him to get his ass off just like you always do. But something, this tingling all over your body, the needles pricking the bottom of your feet and the sound of your heart in your ears makes you hesitate. Instead, you feel your tongue wet your tongue, and just as you open your mouth to say something, heeseung dives in, his tongue chasing yours, lips putting on the right amount of pressure onto yours.
You breathe out through your nose, as if any consciousness has left your body, you tilt your head to the right, allowing him more room to deepen the kiss.
It isn’t romantic, if you are honest. It’s desperate, hungry, full of all the things left unsaid between you. You open your legs for him to lay between them, his forearms the only thing that keeps him from putting all of his weight on you. The hand that played with your earlobe moves to the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jaw. His other hand is moving under your head, pushing it up to him, to his lips, insatiable at this point.
Your own hands wander up from his chest to his neck, cold fingers slowly warming up from the heat of his body.
It is only when your lungs scream at you to take a deep breath when you use your hands to push his lips away from you by his jaw, gasping.
Heeseung whines, sending shivers down your spine.
“just,” he pants, his hand under your head pushing it up a bit, “just a bit more, babe, please, i-“
“hee.” You cut him off, pushing him off even more to sit up. Your legs are still around his torso, his hands now circling around your thighs. “give me a moment, ‘kay?”
He nods, as if he could ever do anything but agree with whatever you say.
You lick your lips, sighing.
How could you explain to him that you have a weird feeling in your stomach, that your heart feels like it is bleeding out. How dare you, after giving him false hope, after allowing him to get closer to him even though you had told him that you would not let that happen.
What happened to your familiar?
You release him from your leg-lock and move to get up from the bed, ignoring the way his eyes follow your every move. Heeseung is still on your bed, sitting at the back of his heels, as if moving would make this entire moment disappear.
He might be right.
You clear your throat. “I, I need to take a breather. Be back in five.”
You don’t wait for his answer, can’t bring yourself to.
It is as if the weight of the situations come down crashing at you with all its weight; your lungs feel hollow as you put on your leather jacket and shoes, breath shaky.
You put your hands inside your pocket, and as soon as you confirm that you have your keys with you, you leave the flat, slamming the door behind you louder than you intended to.
The moon offers you a silent greeting when you reach the front of the building, streets void of any movement or sound.
Well, it is almost midnight on a Monday. What else do you expect?
Your feet move before you can think about it, moving you towards one of the few streetlights scattered around the neighbourhood.
You inhale, the cold air burning your lungs. You like it, though. A little pain never hurt anyone.
“babe?”
His voice makes your shoulders tense up, looking down to avoid his concerned eyes.
Heeseung comes to a halt next to you, adorned in the same leather jacket you talked about earlier.
He does look good.
He bends down a bit, hair falling in front of his eyes, “you okay? Did I do-“
“no.” you shake your head.
God, you are such an ungrateful person. How could you ruin a totally normal situation like that? What is wrong with you?
You speak up again, “you didn’t do anything, heeseung, promise.”
You sigh, turning your head to show him any kind of smile you could muster up, hoping to ease the tension.
“are you sure? Is it because we moved too fast? Should I have kept it for our first official date?” he falls into a monologue, a habit of his when he starts to overthink; you got to know this during the time you two spent together. “I should have make you feel happ-“
Something in you snaps.
no, no! listen, hee, listen i- i can’t, okay? i tried, and god did you make- you do make me happy, okay? i feel so good, so so good when you are here, but i-“ your voice cracks, an ugly sob inserting itself as you try to catch your breath, “i need space. i, i don’t want to live like this-“
“like what, baby?” heeseung looks around, as if his eyes are frantically searching for the reason you want to break things off, “i- everything was, is okay, it has always been?”
you sob again, wiping your tears with the back of your hand, “no, i- i can’t do this with this constant fear of being nothing-“ you inhale shakily.
It feels as if you are dipping your foot into an unknown lake, bottom an endless void that will swallow you whole if you are not careful enough.
“i don’t want to wake up and hope that you won’t pretend like ‘m not there! you have no idea how fucking- ugh, how disgusting it is!”
he scoffs, panic settles on his face, “what does that mean? i- when did i ever-“
“not you! not yet, it’s just, hee, i just need to work things through.” you close your eyes, leaning against the streetlight.
“whenever something happened, my parents would ignore me for weeks, heeseung. weeks. and i thought, i, i don’t know-“ you open your bloodshot eyes, looking at him as if he held the words you were searching for. maybe he did. “i didn’t think I’d carry this fear with me, in relationships, i didn’t know that it would affect me still. and james-“
“fuck him.” heeseung murmurs, taking half a step towards you.
“he also did that whenever i wasn’t the way he wanted me to, i just, i thought he wasn’t. and- i- fuck, i guess i still carry this open wound around.”
“i’ll help you heal, babe, we always helped each other out!” he almost begs, bending his knees slightly. his hands reach towards you, though he wouldn’t dare to touch you just yet, as if you will dissolve into thin air if he makes a wrong move, “please, we-“
“i don’t want you to mirror my wounds, hee. didn’t you notice?” you wet your lips, as if the salty tears rolling down your cheeks aren’t enough, “i get weird around you, my stomach hurts, i- i don’t know what to do with myself, you aren’t familiar.”
it is getting hard to distinguish whom you are telling this to, if you really try to save heeseung or convince yourself that you aren’t good enough for, well, him. the person that not even once shied away from being with you freely and openly. all you know is that you need to get away before you tell him even more, more of what you tried to bury deep inside you all those years ago.
“before i fell in love with you,” you gasp at his declaration, “i just liked you, a lot.” heeseung states. his presence blending out your environment, your attention belongs to him, entirely.
“you always made people around you laugh even though you were serious. wore those cool outfits that i try to copy til date- just. you- you are everything, everywhere.” he breathes out, as if a heavy stone has been lifted from his chest, freeing him from whatever he was holding down, “and i admire you. i want to be better for and with you.”
heeseung takes a step back, hands gesturing around as if there is a crowd watching him, watching you two, “haven’t you noticed how everyone always runs to you for advice? for comfort? simply for you?”
your sob ripples through the air, you can’t bring yourself to look at him anymore, “but what about me!”
heeseung quiets down, running a hand through his dark hair.
you continue. “what about me, fuck, hee. i can’t even bring myself to talk to wonhee at times.” you feel your mouth run dry, “‘m so fucking scared to be air again, to not be worth to be acknowledged again, just because i have an own opinion! but i also can’t-“ you groan, your head hitting the streetlight behind you, “i can’t seem to break free from this, either. i’m just so, so exhausted.”
he steps closer, if he were to raise his hand, he would be able to hold your face, “lean on me, i can carry it.”
you shake your head, gently pushing him away, “i,” you begin, “can’t do that to you. i need to work on me. by myself.”
“please,” his voice cracks, lower lip trembling, “just, just let me- i- let me love you, please.”
“heeseung, i can’t. not now-“
“when? tell me, when are you ready?”
your answer, barely above a whisper, “don’t know.”
his eyes are glassy, clear evidence of the tears he seems to be holding back.
that is what you meant, from the very beginning you knew that this, you, would never forgive yourself of you were the reason to why this warm spirit broke. and now, looking at him and the shell he has become because of your stupid fear; you know that you won’t ever get over this heartbreak you caused.
“what now?” his voice is just above a whisper. He bites down on his lip, not trusting himself to keep calm if you continue to cry even more in front of him.
You look down at your new pair of converse heeseung got you last week.
“we stop hanging out. For a while, I guess.”
“for how long,” he takes your face into his hand, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I can wait, just give me a date-“
“please leave me alone for the time being, hee.”
His hand falls to his side, as of someone has sucked its strength out; maybe that is what you did.
He feels his throat close up, “babe-“
“hee. Please.” You interrupt, pushing yourself off the light, “that is what I meant from the very start. I can’t do this to you.”
This seems to light the fire inside of heeseung. It’s the way his nostrils flare and his arms raise, “you are doing nothing to me, but us! Babe, we were happy just minutes ago- what, how- I, what happened?”
“there is no us, heeseung!” you snap, getting angry. Not at him, never at him.
This anger is directed to you; you can feel it. it is directed to you, your parents, fucking james, your dumb habit of hiding behind familiar stuff, not trying to become a better person. Not even for him.
“’m selfish, ‘m scared, fuck- heeseung, we kissed once and I dipped. I can’t do this, not right now.” You take a deep breath, “please, just leave.”
Heeseungs straightens his back, as if something in him is switched on. He nods once, eyes never leaving yours. He then looks away, nodding again. And before you know it, he turns away, legs moving faster than his usual walking pace.
You stay still, watching his figure get smaller and smaller the more h moves away from you. Something in you screams at you to call him back; to close your arms around the home his shoulders have become and beg for his forgiveness. The selfish, scared part of you tells you to stay put, to let himself free from your unworthy self, silencing your yearning heart.
Fucking great.
You just hate yourself so much.
--------------------------------
it is so hard to get back into fanfic writing g after only wiring academic papers for the past year! please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes, I refuse to proofread!
It’s the first time you have seen the mall so empty, the usual crowd nowhere to be seen.
It must be because heeseung might be only person on earth who gets up an hour before the stores open on a Monday, his frantic knocks against your door pulling you out of your bed.
When you opened the door and saw his smug grin your first reaction was to shut it again, rolling your eyes at his laugh merging form the other side.
“babe!” he called out, muffled.
You ripped the door open again, “sh! People are fucking sleepin’, hee!”
He stepped inside, his parfum mixed with cold air hitting invading your senses.
He didn’t even give you enough time to get ready after he told you that he would be taking you to the mall, no context or anything of that kind.
As you enter the first store, you are met with a tired greeting from one of the workers, the usual upbeat song that would be blaring through the boxes replaced with an rnb melody.
It is definitely too early to be here.
You hold back a yawn, feet dragging as you follow heeseung around, “what are we looking for?”
He hums, eyes going through the various jacket displayed on the rail.
“just looking ‘round.”
You stop abruptly, “so you dragged me out of bed-“
“I didn’t drag you, baby.”
“-to just look around? On a Monday? Three hours before class?” you squeeze out, trying your best to not hit him square across the face.
He shrugs, smiling at your expression. “you had to get up anyway.”
“in two hours, hee! What the fuck.” You groan, throwing your head back.
What must have you done in your previous life to be punished in such cruel way?
Heeseung doesn’t comment, instead, he takes your hand in his, putting it into the pocket of his windbreaker. Your hand stays in his as you two enter the second store.
Snipes.
You pull your hand out of his pocket, ignoring the way his head snaps to you.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to look around and give him some space to get done with whatever he planned to get here, humming along the song playing in the background.
It doesn’t take long for heeseung to appear by your side once again, holding a pair of shoes.
Black converse.
“c’mere, babe.” His soft voice. the even softer grip of is hand around your wrist pulls you to one of the chairs in the store, making you sit down.
He kneels down in front you without any hesitation, hands working on your used laces.
“hee,” you bend down, holding his hands to stop him, “uh, what?”
You watch him bite his lip, chuckling at your confused state. “babe, please don’t get me wrong, but those,” he points dow to your favorite, and well, only pair of converse, “need to leave. Can’t have you embarrass me like that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you hate the way you can feel your lips pout.
Is this really what you have become?
Heeseung laughs, wetting his lips. “let’s just say, I would like to, y’know?”
“uh, no?”
He groans, shutting his eyes once, as if gathering any remaining strength he has left, “I want to buy you something, ‘kay?”
He looks into your eyes with such seriousness that makes you hold your breath,
What the fuck.
“unprovoked?”
Someone come and throw you out of the window. Why would you say it like that?
His shoulders shake as he laughs at you, “well, yeah. That is what, like, we do.”
You can’t help but smirk at his answer.
“oh, do we now?”
He looks down again, hands starting to remove your old shoes and helping you put the new ones on.
It’s odd. You found comfort in your old pair, the memories it holds grounding you. Though, you must admit that this new pair, its black radiant and the white almost competing with the stars in heeseungs eyes as he watches you, it all just feels so- freeing? Should you be thinking that?
“what do you think, babe?” he raises, back bending to level with your face.
time stops as you look into his eyes, mouth running dry.
You nod, “like ‘em.”
That is all heeseung needs to hear, spine straight as he takes the shoe carton to the checkout.
You jump out of your seat, bending down to grab your old pair and follow after him.
“wait,” you hold his arm as he pulls out his wallet, “you can’t just- like, buy them?”
He chuckles, “of course I can. I want to.”
He turns to hand over his credit card, telling the cashier to keep the box.
“are you two a couple?” he asks, hands quick as he works on the rest.
Heeseung looks down at you for a second, “no, we are not.”
The guy nods, smiling. “well, you know what they say about couples buying each other shoes.”
What?
Before you can ask, heeeung takes back his card, his other hand reaching to hold yours.
“yeah thanks, man. Have a good one.”
He walks you two out of the store, and you can’t help but look back one last time, watching your old pair being thrown into a stray box.
“want to eat something?” you turn to look at him again.
Your eyes move to the big clock displayed in the middle of the mall.
Summary: for a new series for their youtube channel, the company has decided to invite seven fans, and or casual k-pop listeners, to spend a week with one of the members of the popular group „enhypen“ ! and lucky [are you really?] you, and thanks to your cousin wanting to tease you a bit, you have been selected to spend a week with park sunghoon! Not only is it that you now have to spend half of your two-week vacation with a complete stranger. It’s just, well, it seems that the two of you are somewhat get along way too well even though you have just met.
Idol!sunghoon x foreigner!reader / strangers2? / out of character sunghoon? / both are so awkward, please send help / but they are trying their very best, ok / fluff / no smut / maybe some tension? / no slow burn! / kinda right person wrong time, maybe?/ I have no idea where this is going / im not even an enhypen fan, but I have had this one specific scenario in my head for the past week and need to write it down or else- / idk. / open end? / maybe angst?, who knows / love goes beyond language type beat
[name] is not a real person, and she won’t be you 100%! This is a fictional setting, I do not know park sunghoon and therefore can only guess how he would be in such setting. I hope to not offend anyone, but please also remember to be kind and understanding. Thank you.
Bold text: Korean
Cursive text: readers native language (if English happens to be your native language, idk. It could also indicate a dialect)
Normal text: english
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Cool wind bit on your cheeks as you stood outside the meeting point given to you by the company, your scarf only shielding you up to your mouth. Your gaze was directed down to your shoes, the ones your cousin had picked out because she couldn’t have you “embarrass her on national tv”, her direct words, not that you could have said anything against it.
Or maybe you could, should have done that. Then you wouldn’t be standing here in the cold, heartbeat echoing in your ears and the feeling of your fingertips lost.
If only you had shut up about this new series of the company, then your cousin wouldn’t have jokingly applied there in your name, claiming that you wouldn’t get picked up anyway since you were in Korea to spend your winter vacation, nothing else.
Should you fix your hair one last time? you still had five more minutes before the actual meeting happened.
Keeping your sigh down was harder that you have anticipated as thousands of thoughts swirled across your mind, the uncertainty of it all weighing down on your chest. You didn’t even know which member of the group you would be meeting, believing the camera team that will be following you wanting to get a raw and unfiltered reaction of you. Shit, you didn’t even know how to act in front of the camera, and a stranger whose fanbase would hunt you down of you were to offend him in any way. Maybe you should run away while you still can, it’s not like they would be able to find you.
Yeah, you should definitely do that.
Determined, you rose your gaze from your shoes to look up front, only to be met with the sight of two women, hiding the lower part of their face behind a mask, their eyes indicating that they were smiling at you.
“that must be her, huh?” you heard one of them speak up, not understanding anything.
After all those years watching bts run videos, one might think that you would pick up at least a bit of Korean, yet to no avail.
“excuse me,” one of them approached you gently, her voice quiet, “are you [name]?”
You cleared your throat before speaking up, hoping that your voice wouldn’t crack.
“yes, I am waiting to be picked up by Na Seon-In.” you replied, head nodding along your words.
Fuck, it was actually happening. This can’t be, you didn’t think that they were actually coming, or actually, you hoped that they have forgotten about you, freeing you from your anxiety and this dread of meeting an actual fucking k-pop idol. A young one at that, someone who was around your age. Fuch, fuck fuck-
“that is me! We thought you wouldn’t be able to find the place!” she spoke up enthusiastically, turning around to tell the other woman something in korean.
You actually struggled greatly to find this place, apple maps not helping at all. Thankfully you had asked some kind strangers to help you out, the language barrier lifted as one of them also spoke English fluently.
Miss Na Seon-In turned around to face you once more, her voice laced with the previous excitement, “let’s go inside a café, there we can talk everything over before it begins.”
Nodding, you follow the two women to a nearby café, your toes staring to hurt after standing in the cold so long. You are definitely getting a hot chocolate; you can’t afford to move like a robot when you meet the idol.
-----------------------
You set your cup back down on the table, eyes looking at the document Miss Na Seon-In placed in front of you, while explaining the content of the contract at the same time.
The café was relatively empty, only two other couples besides your group sitting inside, the lights dimmed down even though it was only nine in the morning and slow r&b music seeping through the boxes.
“you will spend the first hour with the camera by yourself, walking around and looking at the city, this is all to get the viewers to know you before you meet the member, of course you can go wherever you want,” she explained, using the pen in her hand to guide you through the bullet points on the contract, “then you can give the camera to one of our staff, the filming will be done by the member for the first day.”
“tell her to stay close by, so she doesn’t get lost before they meet.” Choi Ha-Rin spoke up, looking at her friend before sending you a kind smile.
You met her smile with one of your own, understanding the struggle of not being able to communicate in a certain language when needed. Fuck, you hope that you get paired up with jake or jay, at least then the non-existent language barrier would lessen your worries.
“ah, yes!” Seon-In exclaimed, head snapping back to you, “Ha-Rin said that it would be better for you to stay close this area, just so you don’t get lost!”
Nodding, you smile at the two, “it would be better for everyone involved, I guess.”
The briefing session continued for another thirty minutes before they showed you how to work with the camera, explaining all the different setting and also showing you the best angles to film yourself from. As they continued to talk about the upcoming events, the realization that you would actually meeting a k-pop idol started settling down, your shoulders cramping up and your hands colder from your nervous sweat.
If it wasn’t for the clause of not talking about the events until after the week, you would have immediately gotten your phone out to talk to your cousin, she would definitely know how to calm you down.
Fuck, why would she sign you up anyway? Didn’t she know that she would be spending the first half of the day on her own for the entire week? How dare she betray you like this? You should have taken her last piece of her favorite snack while you still had the time, she didn’t deserve the happiness of enjoying herself anymore, you will be getting your revenge.
Your hate train for your cousin is interrupted as the two women guide you to the exit of the café, Seon-Ins kind voice somewhat soothing your worries.
It was too late to regret; you will do your very best! This is something others could only dream of! Instead of embarrassing yourself, you will try to show a charming and kind side of yourself to the world! And then, you will take revenge!
---------------------------
You can only scoff at your past self as you found yourself sitting in front of the camera recording you, the background showing the park draped with a certain noon sleepiness, the leaves of the tree next to you rustled gently. You could feel your butt cooling down as you shifted in your seat on the bench, your fingers once again turning red from the wind.
Showing your kind and charming self to the world? Yeah right. You were sitting in front of the camera without saying anything for the past ten minutes must have been really charming. You felt bad for the person that was going to edit this footage, it would be a real pain to find anything useable that would introduce you the viewers. You attempted to speak up every now and then, paring your lips, eyes dancing around the void park in hope to find the right thing to say.
You cleared your throat for the nth time before deciding thatit was enough embarrassment for the day and started to speak your very first word to the camera.
“okay, I, hm,” you shift in your seat once more, “talking to a camera is harder than it seems, as I was only ever watching others speak to the cam.”
Okay, not bad.
You bit along your lower lip, using your free hand to push away some of your hair from your forehead.
“I was told to spend some time by myself before I would meet, uh, the, yeah, the idol. I have no idea who it is,” this time you rose from your seat to walk towards a convenience store across the street, wanting to free your mind from unnecessary worries, “I don’t even know how to prepare myself; I just hope not to embarrass myself, for real.”
Sighing, you enter the store and are immediately met with warm air and a worker from the store, greeting you with a rather tired voice from standing next to the door for god knows how long, “lets see…”
You continued to film yourself, and at times also showed some of the store, trying to get more comfortable.
“should I buy something for the member?” you ask into the camera, looking directly at the lens before looking along the shelves once more, “maybe a key chain? Or, like, a plastic flower? Maybe a heating pad?” you bent down to look at the different heating pads, the prices acceptable.
Before you knew it, you found yourself talking more and more to the camera while also walking around the shelves of the store, time suddenly flying by, which causes you to pay for everything you bought in a hurry and speed walking towards the second meeting point.
“fuck, I, oh, sorry- i- I didn’t realize how much time already passed!”, you spoke while looking down to avoid tripping on the stairs, coming to a hasty halt when you finally arrived, “thank god, it seems that I am not too late.” You smile at the camera, a little cloud forming in front of your mouth as you breathed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in, the excitement coming down crashing on you.
You knew that you were now supposed to film yourself to catch your reaction when seeing the member, but fuck, you really want to turn it off and take a minute to calm down our nerves.
The streets were busier than before, people now leaving their workplaces to go out for their lunches, students walking home and drivers honking at whatever crossed their paths. How were you supposed to know who the member was? Would he be able to find you, instead?
“okay,” you filmed yourself looking around the streets, not noticing a figure in dark clothes approaching you from behind, “he should be here any minute now.”
The member came to a halt two steps behind you, his cap and face mask leaving only his sharp eyes to be exposed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he, too, felt quite nervous. And that nervousness only doubled when he found out that the person he was about to meet didn’t speak any Korean. He knew that the company did this on purpose to get more material, but he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself.
Just as he was about to speak up, you turned around and got startled when you saw a man standing right behind you, his tall frame and dark clothes adding to the shock.
“oh my god,” you caught yourself speaking out before you could find your composure, eyes widening, “i- uh.”
The camera was still directed at our face, perfectly catching your off-guard expression.
“hello.” He bowed down his head, keeping his voice quiet, “I am sunghoon.” He spoke out carefully, his tongue wetting his lips under his back facemask.
You cleared your throat, copying his bow and introducing yourself as well.
aint no way that they would do this to you.
It wasn’t that you did not like sunghoon, no. you thought that he was a very interesting character, but, well. He didn’t speak any English, at least not as much as you hoped.
The both of you then stood there, quietly starring at the other for an entire minute. Your arm stayed up high, this time turning the camera to film the two of you.
Okay, so you saw him. What now? What did Seon-In say you were supposed to do after meeting? You introduced yourselves as anyone else would do if they are supposed to meet with someone they didn’t know. Okay. Cool.
“okay,” sunghoon spoke up first again, determined to make the best of the situation, “we can, uh, go to, café, and- uh- crew is there.” He tried to hold back the cringe he felt from hearing himself speak english, hoping that you understood him to know what he wanted to do. It seemed just as him, you were also unsure what to do next, whether it was due to the shock of meeting him or simply because you genuinely didn’t know.
He looked down into your eyes, watching as they lit up in realization, “okay! Yes! Thank you so much!” you bow down your head once more, wanting to respect his culture. You smiled up at him, grateful that he seemd to understand how you were feeling.
Sunghoon found himself copying your smile, his finger pointing towards the camera, “I can- uh- film.”
You looked at the camera one last time before handing it over to him, happy to grant your arm some rest.
You stepped forward, signalizing that you were ready to go to the café he was talking about, watching him as he adjusted the camera angle to film the two of you from above. That is how you spent the walk to the café, quietly walking next to each other, looking at your surroundings and greeting each other with an awkward smile whenever your eyes met. You could, however, not see sunghoon smile at you, as he was still covering his face with a mask that he did not take off until you finally settled down at a table in the café, the camera now placed at the edge to film you two.
After meeting with other crew members, who told you both what you were supposed to do today, you were once again left alone with sunghoon, sharing a somewhat comfortable silence.
This time, you decided that it was your turn to speak up first, “so, do you know what you want to eat?”
You watched him as his eyes snapped to meet yours before looking down at the menu again, lis tongue quickly wetting his lips, “I want, the, uh, tiramisu? Yes.” He nodded to himself, then looked back at you, “and you?”
“hm,” your eyes dance along the menu, happy to see that they have an English translation, “I think i- hm, do you want to share the strawberry cake with me?” you asked, looking at him.
Sunghoon gazed at you intensively, as if to make sure he understood you correctly, “you eat tiramisu, then, too?”
You sat up straight, happy that you seemed to communicate well with him, “yeah! If you want?”
All he did was nod before calling the waiter over to your table, ordering your cakes along with the drink of your choice. You couldn’t help but look at his side profile as he was still ordering everything, still unable to comprehend that you were deadass sitting in a café with a k-pop singer, about to share some cakes and what not. And this would be going on for the rest of the week.
Oh wow.
The silence returned once more as the waiter walked away to ring in your orders, the sound of other people inside blending into the background.
“so,” you sat up straight, hoping to make the best out of the situation, “how old are you?”
Someone fucking punch you in the face for being so awkward.
“I am,” sunghoon also sat up, pushing away a stray strand from his eyes, “twenty-three. My birthday, uh- was, two days ago.” He answered kindly.
Hearing that, you thought of the little gift you had bought for him at the convenience store, “oh! Wait!”
You turned in your seat to grab something out of your coat pockets, biting down on your lip to calm your nerves.
“here,” you push the heating pad and a snowflake key chain towards him, chuckling at the coincidence that the snowflake suited his name of “ice-prince” in the k-pop community, “happy belated birthday!”
Sunghoon stared down at the things in your hands, lips parted slightly. His expression was quite normal, you’d say, neither his eyes widened nor did he raise his eyebrows in surprise.
Though you could tell that he was somewhat taken aback from the sudden gift, as he could only open and close his mouth, searching for the right words to say.
Sunghoon didn’t know how to react, if he was being honest, since he did not expect anything like this. But seeing the excitement in your eyes, the apples of your cheeks rising as you smiled at him with such genuine intention, he couldn’t do anything but take the pad a d key chain from your hands, bowing his head slightly and smiling back at you just as happy.
“thank you very much, i-“ he swallowed down, “I am really happy, thank you.”
Fuck, he felt bad that he did not think of doing such kind gesture to you as well. You must think that he was rude or bothered to be here. He couldn’t even thank you properly.
So, he did what he was trained to do to express his gratitude and turned towards the camera to show it his new gifts.
“everyone, she even got me a late birthday gift,” he quickly flashed you a smile before he continued, “ah, I feel so bad now, I can’t even thank her properly.” Kissing his teeth, sunghoon once again thanked you.
You smiled at him, then looked at the waiter that suddenly approached your table to bring your cakes, your tea and sunghoons iced americano.
Now with your table filled with your orders, you picked up the camera to show it to the viewers, “here we have tiramisu-“ you begin, cutting off to chuckle as sunghoon starts to pick up the plate to enhance your presentation, “thank you, dear sunghoon!”
His eyes crescented as he smiled at your words, continuing with your presentation, “here, strawberry cake, and- uh, iced americano, and tea!” he finished, lifting each item towards the camera to get a closer look.
You moved to place the camera back to the edge, sunghoon however decided to take it off your hands to turn the lens towards you [and the table] instead, mumbling to himself, “here we can see the pretty view better…”
Unsure what he was saying, you simply threw up a peace sign and smiled at the camera, picking up the fork with your other hand.
“okay!” sunghoon clapped once, setting the camera back down and picking up his own fork. He couldn’t afford you two to stare off towards the other in silence, he had to take the reign. His showed his fork to the camera, gesturing to you to follow him suit.
Laughing, you copied his moves, “here, guys! Sunghoon will try the cake first, right?” you look back at him, your faces closer now that both of you leaned down to the camera.
Signaling with your fork down to the cake and then back at him, you watched as he nodded before eating a piece of the strawberry cake first.
You started at him as he tasted the cake, his eyebrows drawing together and his head slightly nodding, a clear sign that he liked the cake.
Smiling to yourself, you also take a piece of the cake, from the opposite side, and hum happily as you are met with the fresh take of the strawberries.
“that tastes so good.” You sighed, washing it down with a sip of your tea.
And after that, the two of you continued to talk about your preferences, what fruit was the best, which drink would be better, how iced americano was overrated [he scoffed at you, you refused to back down] and much more. Even though the language barrier was pretty prominent, you couldn’t deny that you quickly blended away the fact that you were casually chilling with a k-pop singer and discussing different opinions on food with him. Whenever sunghoon needed a word that he couldn’t remember in English, he used his phone to translate, at times even handing it over to you when he struggled to understand what you were saying.
You didn’t even notice how fast the time passed. After having left the café to walk around the busy streets of seoul, sunghoon had insisted to get you a hat and a mask as well to protect your privacy, which you didn’t understand as you used a new camera to continue filming your day.
“no, no, wait.” He had said, shaking his head unsatisfied with the hat you had picked out. The camera was in your hand, switching from showing your deadpan expression to his serious one, eyeing the two bucket hats in his hands. One was black, rather fluffy, perfect for the falling temperatures outside. The other was in a warm beige town, the fabric soft and thin.
“both colors look good on her, everyone,” sunghoon pushed his face towards the lens directed at him, scoffing, “I think,” he lifted the black hat, “this one, good.” He looked back at you for approval, nodding to his choice.
You took the hat from his hands, as he now began to film you, humming as you looked at the black hat deep in thought, “but then, you can’t even see my eyes.”
You quickly got used to use your hands while communicating with sunghoon, the both of you finding out that it made talking to each other easier.
“better, no can photograph your- uh, face.” He nodded, taking the hat back to pay for it.
You wished to speak up, wanting to tell him that he did not have to pay for it, though you understood very fast that it would not reach his ears. Even back then, at the café when you at least wanted to pay for your own order, it felt lie sunghoon was read to throw you across the room if you dared to bring that topic up again.
Following him to the cashier, you stood a step behind him and watched him pay for the head while also talking to the camera. Even though you had been in korea for a week already, you still had to get used to smiling with your eyes due to the mask blocking half of your face, so when sunghoon and you stepped out and he put the hat on your head, you leaned back to smile at him with your eyes, hoping to convey your gratitude.
Adjusting the hat, you turned your body toward him, “thank you, sunghoon, really.”
You believed that he also flashed you a toothy smile as you watched his eyes close up a bit, leaning down, “you call me, hoon.” He nodded confidently, pushing the camera high to capture you both at the same time.
You felt heat rush into your neck, slowly creeping up to your ears, as you heard him offer you to call him by a nickname. It must be due to how tired you were, you had been up since seven in the morning and had not the chance to rest so far. That must be why you felt so weird, why this kind offer if his made you feel so taken aback.
You cleared your throat, nodding, “okay, hoon.” Why were you feeling so embarrassed all of a sudden? And fuck, why did he have to say that in front of the camera, you could already feel the hate messages creeping into your dms. Did he hate the way you pronounced his name so much that he wished to help you out?
His airy chuckle reached your ears as the two of you began your walk towards your hotel.
As you reached a streetlight, you felt sunghoon suddenly come to a halt, looking back you before turning back to face the camera, “everyone,” he started, lifting his hand to wave at the camera, “today, we sleep now. We will start- uh, tomorrow, again, good night and see you.” He bowed his head and the pushed the camera closer to you, signaling you to wave at the camera as well.
“ah,” you straightened your back, copying his wave, “see you, everyone! We will be back tomorrow!” you copied him and switched back to your mother tongue, chuckling at his surprised face.
With the camera now turned off, you believed that your ways would part here now, and that you would see him again at the first meeting point tomorrow. Your shocked face must have been visible even with the mask and hat covering majority of your face, as sunghoon laughed and gestured to you that he would walk you back to your hotel.
“in dark, you have to help the girl.” He nodded, eyes all serious, not accepting words of protest.
Touched by his kind words, you quietly thanked him and told him the name of your hotel, which he seemed to know, as he began to walk immediately without any delay.
The air between you was filled with small talk, sharing some facts about the other, him laughing at your poor attempts of speaking any kind of Korean that you picked up from all those years of being a casual listener, and you mirroring that when he tried to pronounce one word in your native language.
Now standing in front of the entrance of your hotel, you turned to face him, unsure what to do.
As if he understood your dilemma, sunghoon moved to grab [you stopped questioning him entirely] your head and squeezed it through your new fluffy hat, wishing you a good night.
Scoffing, you gently slapped off his hand, “yeah, yeah. Good night to you, too, hoon.”
Laughing at your tone, he waved at you one last time and began to walk away, home, you believed. You watched his tall frame slowly disappear into the night, before walking into your hotel, straight to the elevator and up to your room.
------------------------------------
“okay, okay, I waited enough! Now tell me every little dirty thing you did!” your cousin whined as you finally settled into your shared kind sized bed, both of your faces covered by a korean skincare sheet mask.
Groaning, you swatted her hand on your shoulder away, “I signed an nda!” you began, shifiting in your position, “but it was very, hm, nice?” you couldn’t help but giggle, “I thought it would be so, like, I don’t even know, awkward? Uncomfortable? But it was good, his English isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“what are the chances of getting paired up with park sunghoon?” she laughed, leaning back while scrolling on her phone, “you think anyone saw you?”
You shrugged, “well, he bought me a hat and a mask, he might have felt something, or whatever.”
“twitter’s clean.”
“hm, well. Lets hope that it will stay a secret until the videos are released. Wouldn’t want him to be in, like, you know, a stupid scandal just because of a misunderstanding.”
You continued to talk well into the night, trying to avoid of talking about sunghoon and the things he told you, wanting to respect his privacy and the contract you had signed. And even though you quickly calmed down from meeting him after having spent the entire day with him, you couldn’t shake off the anticipation of seeing him again tomorrow. There was so much you’d like to talk to him about, places you’d like to see with him and his weird humor following you around. Even though you feel into a comfortable silence every now and then because it was hard to come up with a topic to talk about in the spot, sunghoon not even once had made you feel uncomfortable your weird in any way. Any sort of awkwardness that might have been rising as quickly covered by a weird noise he made or a bad joke he told you.
You sigh to yourself quietly. The soft snores of your cousin sleeping next to you, the tiredness in your muscles and the warmth you felt with the thought of seeing sunghoon again tomorrow lull you into a dreamless slumber.
-----------------------------
Leaving the warmth of the hotel lobby and stepping outside into the cold morning air draped over korea took more courage than you’d like to admit. You did not have the same privilege to sleep in as your dear cousin did back inside, and now you also ahd to walk to the arranged place where you and sunghoon would meet for the entire week.
Just as you began to walk towards the direction, you heared a loud voice booming from hebind you and something grabbing your shoulder, making you yelp up.
“what the fu-“ you were interrupted by a familiar voice laughing at your shocked expression, eyes snapping down to watch sunghoon laugh at you bent over, the other hand tightly holding onto the camera that was filming him.
“I cant- I, honey,” he managed to talk out, now standing up straight to look at your deadpan expression, “I am sorry, but, you scream so, wah, loud.” He continued to giggle, now pushing the camera towards you.
Scoffing, you pushed his hand out of your face and walk away, not in the mood to be the victim of his mean pranks.
“leave, I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you groaned, desperately fighting off the smile that crept onto your lips.
You even wore the hat that he got you yesterday, and this is how he treats you first thig in the morning?! Rude.
You continued your aimless walk, ears picking up on his footsteps following you from behind. He was also talking to the camera, though you had no chance to understand what he was saying.
Sunghoon called out your name, now standing right next to you, “I am sorry, okay? Lets go- shopping? Maybe. I will buy you, uh, things.” He had his mask pushed down, revealing his his subtle smirk that he tried to hide away from you.
Thanks to the entire day you spent together yesterday, Sunghoon quickly got to understand that you were a very expressive person when you felt comfortable, and what better way to melt the nice between the next day by scaring you when you least expected it! and oh, was he glad that he did that, no one could have prepared him about how funny you would react!
He bit back a smile as you whined at him, complaining about his approach and even though he did not understand every single word that you uttered at him, he couldn’t help but hang onto your lips, wanting to hear everything that left them.
He turned back to the camera, laughing, “she is very, uh, dramatic, yes. It wasn’t even that scary, honey, you can calm down.”
Your eyes widened, “what?! Do you know how weird that- ugh. No. I don’t-. forget it I forgive you.” You shook your head; hands stemmed on your hips as if surrendering to his nonsense.
And that is how you started your second day of the week with sunghoon, once again walking around, talking even more than you did yesterday, lightly teasing the other and complaining about it to the camera as if it was some kind of supervisor that would aid you if the other was doing too much.
Other highlights of the day were also when you found a restaurant that sold food from your home country, where you turned to sunghoon and begged him to try out some with you, just to check if it was authentic or not,
“c’mon, hoonie, it is really good! You can eat japchae whenever!” you moved closer to him, the camera capturing the two of you walking along the somewhat busy streets, any sign of awkwardness somehow vanishing as time moved on.
And how could sunghoon even say no to your wishes, the way your voice rose with each word and your head tilting to the side. He never really liked standing too close to people he wasn’t entirely comfortable around, and even though he had only met you just yesterday, he also knew that he didn’t feel anything weird by being so close to your body. Quite the opposite, if he was being honest. He liked the sound your jackets made when they rubbed against each other, liked the gentle bumps that followed because for some reason you could walk in a straight line.
Mock groaning to tease you a little, sunghoon agreed and followed you inside the small restaurant, nose met with the smell of strong spices and warm food.
As soon as he placed the camera down at the edge of the table as he is used to, he couldn’t take his eyes off your excited face anymore, a smile of his own creeping onto his lips as he watched to talk in your native language to the restaurant owners and ordering whatever you wanted for the two of you.
Usually, he would be careful with how he acted around you, as you were a woman and his fans could at times react rather, how shall he word it, intense, whenever a person of the opposite sex was involved. And he was trained, he knew how he had to act, was no stranger to the whole public figure life codes and what not, but who cared. If his company was actually against him being genuine with someone else, they would have not make him and the other members spend a week with a stranger. It was bound to happen, getting comfortable, he meant.
And with this comfortable feeling and much more, this day also slowly came to an end. After getting something to eat and also getting some drinks to go, sunghoon kept his promise and actually took you to a shopping center, buying you some skincare products and a ring that you planned on gifting your cousin, as you told him before.
“so, your cousin is- here? In korea?” he asked, camera inside his pocket, as he decided to walk around with you without filming. He believed that you got enough footage for the day, and would only film again when it was time for you to go back to your hotel.
You nodded, eyes looking up at his, “yeah, she spent a year here and has friends she can meet,” you began, taking a sip from your tea, “i was sad that she would be alone while we are together, you know?”
Sunghoon hummed, his arm brushing against yours, “she can, uh, meet my friend. Members, you know?”
Sunghoon felt heat creeping up his cheeks as he watched you laugh at his words, head falling back, “who knows, maybe she can also spend a week with him?”
There has never been a time in which he was more grateful to have known jake as he does now, thanks to him and his constant bickering with jay in english, sunghoon is able to understand quite a lot of what you are saying. His only wish was to be able to speak to you just as comfortably as you do.
“yeah, maybe.” He agreed, looking around.
Where else could he take you? What else would interest you?
Just as he wanted to take out his phone to google some locations, you closed your hand around his bicep, stopping him from walking any further, “hoonie!”
“yes?”
“are there any art museums we could go to?”
“art?” he asked again, watching you nod, “wait a minute, I think…” he drifted away deep in thought, thinking of what way would be the best to reach the museum in seoul.
“maybe,” he began, straightening his back, “we go with taxi, to, uh the- museum. 10 minutes.”
And that is how you found you guys at the entrance of the Korean national art museum in seoul, camera in hand to film your spontaneous trip,
“hey guys!”, you started, moving closer to sunghoon to put the tow of you in the frame, “we decided to come to the museum! And now hoonie and I will rate the stuff here,” you faced him, “okay?”
Sunghoon just looked down at you, his face covered by a mask and hair hid by a beanie, “okay.”
And that is how you two speed-walked through different sections of the museum, pretending to be serious art critiques and rating every piece.
At times sunghoon would even go so far and claim that he could do the same piece with his left foot [he mostly relied on body langue to get the message through, but you understood] and laughed until your stomach hurt.
“ya,” he called out, taking the camera out of your hand to film you instead, “honey, go there and uh, walk like model to me.” He barley finished his sentence when he couldn’t hold back anymore and began laughing at your poor attempt to catwalk, the empty section you were currently in easing your worries that someone else might see you.
You walked back to him as he turned off the camera, his hand hovering at the small of your back to guide you to the next floor,
“why is it so empty today?” you asked, eyes only ever catching a few people either entering or leaving the room.
“oh,” he began, taking out his phone, “today, uh, is holiday at university. Many people go there.” He explained, handing yo over his phone.
“picture?” you asked, as if it was something you had always done. And well, today, you kinda did. Whenever sunghoon wanted you to take a picture, he just handed you his phone and walked to the place he wanted to be seen. As you had explained to him yesterday, you weren’t really allowed to use you phone while you were with him, all to protect his privacy and such. So, whenever sunghoon felt like you or him wanted a picture of the place you were at, he gave you his phone and let you do whatever you wanted.
It felt weirdly intimate and, well, you couldn’t deny that it made your cheeks heat up. Who would have thought that sunghoon could be such an attentive and sweet guy?
As he came back to check the picture you made, you couldn’t help but look up at his face, heart forcefully beating against your rips.
“good?” your voice was just above a whisper, not trusting it at the moment.
Sunghoon hummed, turning his head to look right back at you.
Clearing your throat, you took a step back and handed him his phone back, stepping towards the exit floor, “it is late now, maybe we should head back?”
He simply followed you, his hand once more placed at the small of your back while his other hand called for a cap.
Well, fuck.
--------------------------------------
The rest of the week was spent with just as much teasing and sneaky gazes that never really met. For some reason, sunghoon tried to use the camera as little as possible, even though filming your day was the entire purpose of why you two even met up.
Though, you weren’t one to complain, actually appreciating the private moments that only ever stayed between you two.
The other days you either went to different cafè and once again pretended to be professional taste testers, other times you simply sat down on a bench with some snacks and taught the other words in your native language. Sunghoon even told you about some songs he planned on covering, told you about his plans for the future with the band and even about his family.
Ad you didn’t hold back either, telling him just as much about your future goals, your friends and family.
There were times where your hands brushed against the others as you somehow started walking very close to each other, times where you wished that he might hold your and even times when he actually did.
Maybe it was a great idea to buy big hats that would cover your face, as you couldn’t begin to phantom how you would be explaining to others that you were walking around seoul while holding hands with a k-pop idol. Though you also liked it, this intimacy that was wrapped behind a veil with only you and sunghoon actually knowing what was going on, or well, at least pretending as if you knew.
If you were being honest, you had no idea what was happening and why it came all of a sudden; this hand holding, the leaning into each other and whispering into the others ear; the pictures he started to take of you when he thought you weren’t looking and the hours you were desperately scratching together to not part ways for the day.
How were you supposed to explain any of this to your people, how were you supposed to just part ways with sunghoon after your last day tomorrow? Though you were glad that you got to spend so much time with him, you dreaded the thought that all of this would fade into a faraway memory after tomorrow.
Sunghoon seemed to have the same thoughts, because unlike the other days where he would find a way to surprise [aka make you scream and laugh at your misery] you at the hotel entrance, this time, he simply gave you a singular red rose, the camera tucked away into his pocket and his smile not really reaching his eyes as it usually does.
He also didn’t take the camera out as you started walking aimlessly around the city, more in hidden backstreets instead of at the center of the city as you usually would. Your conversation was also rather airy, never rising as it always does, since sunghoon never had an inside voice when he was with you.
You hated to spend your last day in such gloomy mood, but you were just oh so sad that you wouldn’t be seeing sunghoon after today and would be leaving the country in just two days.
“so,” you spoke up first, wanting to rid you two of this foul mood, “what do you want to do, today? We only ever do what I want.”
Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately. Rather, he looked down at your hands – you didn’t even notice that you began to hold his – before he spoke, “maybe, your hotel?”
What.
“uh-“ fuck, what did he just say, “what do you mean?”
Sunghoon must have realized what his answer sounded like as he watched your horrified expression, “ah! No, no, honey, wait i- I mean, comfortable, we can, just, uh, talk.” His cheeks were covered in a peachy hue as he tried to explain himself.
Laughing at his face, you nodded and started pulling him along, “okay, hoonie. Lets get comfortable!”
----------------------------------------
Well, comfortable where exactly? On the singular king-sized bed, or maybe the wooden stool that held your pajama’s that you had yet to pack away.
“you know what,” you didn’t care anymore, this was your last day, and you didn’t want to spend it in any awkward silence, “lets just lay down, they change the sheets anyway.”
Nodding to yourself as if to confirm your own statement, you crawl to your side of the bed and tap down next to you, inviting sunghoon to make himself comfortable. And he didn’t hesitate to follow through, laying down right next to you.
You turned to your side, eyes looking at his directly as he copied you, “hey.”
He chuckled, “hello.”
That ripped a breathy laugh from your throat, unfamiliar emotions clawing at your heart.
“hm, we still have to film a bit of our last day.”
“yes, but, not now. Later”
Sunghoon shifts a bit shuffling closer to your body, his right arm rising to caress your cheek.
“hoonie?”
Sniffling, he cleared his nose before pulling away, “oh, sorry.”
Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “no, it- uh-, I liked it. it’s fine.”
“are you sad, uh, you-, today is our last day.” He asked, tongue quickly sliding across his lower lip.
“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “it was really fun with you, even though you are really mean.”
You think back to yesterday at the karaoke booth, in which sunghoon laughed at you as if his lungs were cabled to a box, his strong voice bouncing off the walls as you tried your very best to sing along the unfamiliar sing he had chosen for you.
You only ever slapped his chest when he laughed at you, but your anger quickly vanished when you listened to him sing whatever song you chose, his gaze at times directed at you as if he was speaking to you through the lyrics. You wished that you understood the text, but even though you didn’t, it still felt warm and cozy, especially as his gentle voice and his even gentler hands reached towards you.
How could you ever forget about him?
Sunghoon pinched your cheek gently as he laughed at your words, his laugh deepening at your usual reaction of slapping his chest, “you are, ah,” he pushed himself up to his elbow, now looking down at you as he searched for the correct words, “you are easy to, uh- make fun.”
Gasping at his words, you also pushed yourself up, face now close to his as you balanced your upper body on your hands, “stop! I will bite! I really do, my mom told me that I used to bite others in kinderga-“
You were interrupted when sunghoon covered your eyes with his hand and leaned in to press a quick peck at the corner of your mouth, catching you off guard.
“huh?”
You look at him confused as he pulled away, now leaning his upper body against the headboard of the bed and refusing to meet your confused gaze.
You sat up straight, leaning toward him, each arm at one + side of his hips, yet he still refused to meet your eyes, looking up as you moved your face closer to his. The bedsheets rustled with each movement of your bodies, and you could see the tiny hair on his face.
“hoonie?”
“ah, honey, I just-“ he finally snaps, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug, “don’t forget me, okay?”
Once again, “huh?”
You tried to pull away, your own hands now resting at the side of his neck, “sunghoon, hoonie,” you pressed your thumbs against his cheeks to make his eyes face you, “why would I ever forget about you? I should be the one saying that! Don’t forget about me! Okay?”
Sunghoon placed each of his hands on top of yours, gently squeezing them as he nodded, “okay.”
His voice came out rather meek, and you somehow struggled to believe that someone who was rumored to be cool and collected could sound so vulnerable.
“okay.”
---------------
Unfinished work alert!
This has been written in one sitting, I have not proofread anything and sunghoon is so out of character it hurts. But as I said, I just wanted to write it down and I believe that maybe even one of you would like it!
jude bellingham x reader
he knows that you like him, and even though he does not reciprocate your feelings, he simply can't stay away from you - giving you false hope over and over again, until... well, until you decide to move on.
you always had a soft spot for Jude, ever since the two of you met and became good friends, you quickly realized that saying 'no' to him would never be an option.
you first met through a mutual friend back in germany, gio reyna, whom you met because of your university course and such. it was a pure coincidence, you just needed something from him and went to pick it up after he had finished training, and that is where you first met him - jude bellingham.
it wasn't all cinematic, no emotion came crushing down on you when your eyes first met. instead, it was quiet, creeping up from behind, lurking in the shadows and gently taking a hold of you until you couldn't fight it off any longer.
what first began with a harmless follow request on instagram, later evolved into exchanging numbers and talking on a daily basis.
while you worked on your seminar presentations, jude would simply hit you up with a message, asking whether you wanted to hang out with him and a few friends or not. you were a studious person, pushing back your presentation wouldn't be bad, just for a night.
perhaps that is when you should have noticed it, that giddiness, that weird feeling in your stomach and the deep breaths you took every now and then, trying to calm your nerves- from what, you didn't know back then. now, you are aware, though it doesn't matter anymore.
you knew that jude was, or well, still is, a handsome guy, anyone with functioning eyes could tell that much. you were also well aware how popular he was with the ladies; charming smile, British accent, his big, sparkling eyes and the respectful stance he had whenever he talked to someone was enough to sweep anyone off their feet - even you.
so, when the evening you decided to meet up arrived, your hands nervously dancing along the hem of your shirt, eyes darling around the bar, searching for his broad figure, you were met with a gut that shouldn't have shocked you as much as it did back then.
it was stupid, really, getting hurt by such sight. him being surrounded by a few stunning women, who were definitely older than him, not that jude cared, apparently. young, handsome, and successful, who wouldn't want to indulge in that?
but you bit through, you still had a great time with your, actually his, friends, got a few new connections and talked with jude as well, though it wasn't as long as you wished.
a beat, and suddenly you found yourself being friends with jude for a year already, and you still could not decline whenever he invited you out, only to not pay you any attention. you had told your friends about the situation, though you never mentioned it was the young bvb star you had a bright future ahead of him. and your best friend would always tell you to get your shit together, to realize how badly you were being treated and that you deserved better.
but they didn't know him - not in the way that you did! he wasn't like that, no. because at least once during the evenings you spent together, he comes up to you, broad smile and pearly whites flashing, his arms inviting you for a hug. then, he'd ask you about your day, tell you something about his, and would always, always, hype you up if you felt insecure about your studies. because that's who he is, one of the kindest people ever.
you couldn't tell when he knew, you couldn't even tell when you did. but somehow along the lines, perhaps during one of your outings, he must have come to the very true conclusion that, oh, would you look at that - you liked him. even more than as just a friend.
you guess that is why he started to invite you out even more, though for the most bizarre reasons ever; he needed someone to pick him up from the club in the middle of the night, and he'd contact you.
at first you told yourself that it was due to the fact that he trusted you, more than anyone. a sweet lie, you chuckle as you think back to that time. how nervous you felt, trying your very best to look good even though he was wasted and wouldn't even look at you, too tired to keep his eyes open.
and that was how it always played out; he would call you if he needed someone to drive him somewhere, called you when he was bored and his other friends were too busy to hang out, called you because you always said 'yes'.
jude wasn't a bad person, he was still one of the kindest people you knew, even if he treated you as a last resort, he'd still keep the conversation going, still laughed and joked around with you, made you feel appreciated, he genuinely did!
you just wished that he would perhaps invite you to a game, give you his shirt to wear as you would watch him run around the field. you'd never lift your eyes off of him, you would dedicate so much to him.
he simply didn't care, you assume now. you can remember it as if it was just yesterday, when he told you that he invited someone else to a very important game.
"yeah, we went on a few dates, she also wants to watch me play." jude chuckled, growing as he stretched his arms to loosen up some tension built in his shoulders, "i'll try to score and dedicate it to her, bet she'll fall for me then."
and all you could do was muster up a smile, praying that it was convincing enough, all while you felt your heart slowly crumble down inside of you, scratching along your flesh.
you didn't cry, no, you weren't that sensitive, you guess. but it still hurt, watching him just move on with his life, looking at everyone with a certain interest, everyone but you.
that was when the self doubt came nagging on your ears, then moving up to your mind, ugly nails clinging along your head. it served as a constant reminder that he would never give you the chance you deserved - you deserved him.
you always helped him, never declined any of his offer! who else, if not you, could stand by his side and support him through thick and thin?
though, it seems to be true that even the most passionate among us could lose their spark. even if you still hoped him whenever he asked for help, you found yourself caring less and less about your appearance. suddenly, whenever his name popped up in your notifications, instead of your heart speeding up, you began to sigh in exhaustion, sitting your eyes to calm yourself before you answered.
and even though you still could never say 'no' to him, you found another way to not jump at any request he sent your way - you simply ignored his messages. or well, you muted them, causing you to see his messages hours after he had sent them.
your friends must have also noticed the shift in your attitude towards that guy you liked, because all of a sudden, you'd agree to meet up with them to go out for some drinks, something you usually had declined in case that jude called for you.
you even flirted with some guy, enjoying the attention that you had sought from another previously. even though you didn't want anything serious to happen with that guy, and as mean and selfish as it sounds, the attention you got from him that night boosted your confidence quite a bit. it made you realize that you were never the problem to begin with.
all these negative emotions, all the doubts, all the self consciousness you felt back then comes rushing down at you as you find yourself standing in front of a confused jude.
yo can't explain how he has found you, since you are still on university grounds, but that isn't the main focus of the situation you are currently in.
there he is, looking as handsome as ever, fresh trim and comfortable clothes, his eyes narrowed down at you.
"what is wrong with you?" he demands, the respectful tone you once oh so liked seemed to be gone.
flatly, "what?"
you have better things to do now, and if he couldn't get to his pint properly, you simply would walk away.
your eyes watch him as he takes a deep breath, as if to calm himself before he speaks up, "I called you so many times, yesterday, the day before. is your phone broken? want me to get you a new one?"
you don't know if it is to provoke him, or simply just to show it to him, but you hold your phone up, waving it slightly, "nope, still in tact."
that seems to anger him, "then why," he starts, voice falling deep, "why aren't you answering whenever i call you-"
"exam season, i'm kinda busy, you know?"
"too busy to talk for five minutes?"
"I guess."
he scoffs, hands placed on his hips, "i got some news, and, yeah. i guess you'd like to know."
of course, you did. you always do, but you don't want to fall into the same pattern that ate you up those last years. so, instead of saying anything, you decide to keep quiet, though your eyes are still focused on him, as if to tell him to continue.
he picks up your demand, "i'm transferring to madrid, i'll be moving next week."
you know you promised yourself to be nonchalant, you really try, but after hearing the new, you feel your mouth dry up.
your eyes widen slightly, and your throat seems to close up as well.
fucking...
"oh," you clear your throat, "well, uh, congrats! you always wanted to play there."
even though you genuinely meant it, it seems like your words madden jude more than ever, "that's it? 'congrats'?"
"what else do you want me to say? do you want me to cry and beg you to stay here?"
jude turns his head to the side, briefly closing his eyes. his tongue pokes against the inside of his cheek, and it looks like he tries his very best to stay calm, as if he couldn't believe what you just have said to him.
"why are you being like this?" is what he asks instead, now looking back at you.
this time, it is you who scoffs, not believing what you are hearing right now, "listen, i am genuinely happy for you, jude-"
"oh, so now we are back to first name basis, huh?" he interrupts, saying your name in a tone colder than you have ever witnessed.
whatever.
you continue, not in the mood to go along with his tantrum, "i am happy for you, and will always support you, but - yeah. i, uh, i gotta now, i have a date-"
"with whom?" he interrupts once again, but you don't care anymore.
"so, i guess i'll see you? maybe? yeah." you nod, whether it is to convince him or yourself, you don't know. but you have to leave right now, or else you might break down and yell at him.
without even looking at him, you force a smile, turn your head away and continue your walk towards the library, like you have had initially planned before jude cut you off.
the tension creeps to your shoulders, the books in your arms suddenly heavier than ever.
that hurt more than you'd like to admit.
but, it's too late anyway.
-----------
i am in love with my hot italian literature lecturer. like,,, yeah <3
Summary: for a new series for their youtube channel, the company has decided to invite seven fans, and or casual k-pop listeners, to spend a week with one of the members of the popular group „enhypen“ ! and lucky [are you really?] you, and thanks to your cousin wanting to tease you a bit, you have been selected to spend a week with park sunghoon! Not only is it that you now have to spend half of your two-week vacation with a complete stranger. It’s just, well, it seems that the two of you are somewhat get along way too well even though you have just met.
Idol!sunghoon x foreigner!reader / strangers2? / out of character sunghoon? / both are so awkward, please send help / but they are trying their very best, ok / fluff / no smut / maybe some tension? / no slow burn! / kinda right person wrong time, maybe?/ I have no idea where this is going / im not even an enhypen fan, but I have had this one specific scenario in my head for the past week and need to write it down or else- / idk. / open end? / maybe angst?, who knows / love goes beyond language type beat
[name] is not a real person, and she won’t be you 100%! This is a fictional setting, I do not know park sunghoon and therefore can only guess how he would be in such setting. I hope to not offend anyone, but please also remember to be kind and understanding. Thank you.
Bold text: Korean
Cursive text: readers native language (if English happens to be your native language, idk. It could also indicate a dialect)
Normal text: english
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Cool wind bit on your cheeks as you stood outside the meeting point given to you by the company, your scarf only shielding you up to your mouth. Your gaze was directed down to your shoes, the ones your cousin had picked out because she couldn’t have you “embarrass her on national tv”, her direct words, not that you could have said anything against it.
Or maybe you could, should have done that. Then you wouldn’t be standing here in the cold, heartbeat echoing in your ears and the feeling of your fingertips lost.
If only you had shut up about this new series of the company, then your cousin wouldn’t have jokingly applied there in your name, claiming that you wouldn’t get picked up anyway since you were in Korea to spend your winter vacation, nothing else.
Should you fix your hair one last time? you still had five more minutes before the actual meeting happened.
Keeping your sigh down was harder that you have anticipated as thousands of thoughts swirled across your mind, the uncertainty of it all weighing down on your chest. You didn’t even know which member of the group you would be meeting, believing the camera team that will be following you wanting to get a raw and unfiltered reaction of you. Shit, you didn’t even know how to act in front of the camera, and a stranger whose fanbase would hunt you down of you were to offend him in any way. Maybe you should run away while you still can, it’s not like they would be able to find you.
Yeah, you should definitely do that.
Determined, you rose your gaze from your shoes to look up front, only to be met with the sight of two women, hiding the lower part of their face behind a mask, their eyes indicating that they were smiling at you.
“that must be her, huh?” you heard one of them speak up, not understanding anything.
After all those years watching bts run videos, one might think that you would pick up at least a bit of Korean, yet to no avail.
“excuse me,” one of them approached you gently, her voice quiet, “are you [name]?”
You cleared your throat before speaking up, hoping that your voice wouldn’t crack.
“yes, I am waiting to be picked up by Na Seon-In.” you replied, head nodding along your words.
Fuck, it was actually happening. This can’t be, you didn’t think that they were actually coming, or actually, you hoped that they have forgotten about you, freeing you from your anxiety and this dread of meeting an actual fucking k-pop idol. A young one at that, someone who was around your age. Fuch, fuck fuck-
“that is me! We thought you wouldn’t be able to find the place!” she spoke up enthusiastically, turning around to tell the other woman something in korean.
You actually struggled greatly to find this place, apple maps not helping at all. Thankfully you had asked some kind strangers to help you out, the language barrier lifted as one of them also spoke English fluently.
Miss Na Seon-In turned around to face you once more, her voice laced with the previous excitement, “let’s go inside a café, there we can talk everything over before it begins.”
Nodding, you follow the two women to a nearby café, your toes staring to hurt after standing in the cold so long. You are definitely getting a hot chocolate; you can’t afford to move like a robot when you meet the idol.
-----------------------
You set your cup back down on the table, eyes looking at the document Miss Na Seon-In placed in front of you, while explaining the content of the contract at the same time.
The café was relatively empty, only two other couples besides your group sitting inside, the lights dimmed down even though it was only nine in the morning and slow r&b music seeping through the boxes.
“you will spend the first hour with the camera by yourself, walking around and looking at the city, this is all to get the viewers to know you before you meet the member, of course you can go wherever you want,” she explained, using the pen in her hand to guide you through the bullet points on the contract, “then you can give the camera to one of our staff, the filming will be done by the member for the first day.”
“tell her to stay close by, so she doesn’t get lost before they meet.” Choi Ha-Rin spoke up, looking at her friend before sending you a kind smile.
You met her smile with one of your own, understanding the struggle of not being able to communicate in a certain language when needed. Fuck, you hope that you get paired up with jake or jay, at least then the non-existent language barrier would lessen your worries.
“ah, yes!” Seon-In exclaimed, head snapping back to you, “Ha-Rin said that it would be better for you to stay close this area, just so you don’t get lost!”
Nodding, you smile at the two, “it would be better for everyone involved, I guess.”
The briefing session continued for another thirty minutes before they showed you how to work with the camera, explaining all the different setting and also showing you the best angles to film yourself from. As they continued to talk about the upcoming events, the realization that you would actually meeting a k-pop idol started settling down, your shoulders cramping up and your hands colder from your nervous sweat.
If it wasn’t for the clause of not talking about the events until after the week, you would have immediately gotten your phone out to talk to your cousin, she would definitely know how to calm you down.
Fuck, why would she sign you up anyway? Didn’t she know that she would be spending the first half of the day on her own for the entire week? How dare she betray you like this? You should have taken her last piece of her favorite snack while you still had the time, she didn’t deserve the happiness of enjoying herself anymore, you will be getting your revenge.
Your hate train for your cousin is interrupted as the two women guide you to the exit of the café, Seon-Ins kind voice somewhat soothing your worries.
It was too late to regret; you will do your very best! This is something others could only dream of! Instead of embarrassing yourself, you will try to show a charming and kind side of yourself to the world! And then, you will take revenge!
---------------------------
You can only scoff at your past self as you found yourself sitting in front of the camera recording you, the background showing the park draped with a certain noon sleepiness, the leaves of the tree next to you rustled gently. You could feel your butt cooling down as you shifted in your seat on the bench, your fingers once again turning red from the wind.
Showing your kind and charming self to the world? Yeah right. You were sitting in front of the camera without saying anything for the past ten minutes must have been really charming. You felt bad for the person that was going to edit this footage, it would be a real pain to find anything useable that would introduce you the viewers. You attempted to speak up every now and then, paring your lips, eyes dancing around the void park in hope to find the right thing to say.
You cleared your throat for the nth time before deciding thatit was enough embarrassment for the day and started to speak your very first word to the camera.
“okay, I, hm,” you shift in your seat once more, “talking to a camera is harder than it seems, as I was only ever watching others speak to the cam.”
Okay, not bad.
You bit along your lower lip, using your free hand to push away some of your hair from your forehead.
“I was told to spend some time by myself before I would meet, uh, the, yeah, the idol. I have no idea who it is,” this time you rose from your seat to walk towards a convenience store across the street, wanting to free your mind from unnecessary worries, “I don’t even know how to prepare myself; I just hope not to embarrass myself, for real.”
Sighing, you enter the store and are immediately met with warm air and a worker from the store, greeting you with a rather tired voice from standing next to the door for god knows how long, “lets see…”
You continued to film yourself, and at times also showed some of the store, trying to get more comfortable.
“should I buy something for the member?” you ask into the camera, looking directly at the lens before looking along the shelves once more, “maybe a key chain? Or, like, a plastic flower? Maybe a heating pad?” you bent down to look at the different heating pads, the prices acceptable.
Before you knew it, you found yourself talking more and more to the camera while also walking around the shelves of the store, time suddenly flying by, which causes you to pay for everything you bought in a hurry and speed walking towards the second meeting point.
“fuck, I, oh, sorry- i- I didn’t realize how much time already passed!”, you spoke while looking down to avoid tripping on the stairs, coming to a hasty halt when you finally arrived, “thank god, it seems that I am not too late.” You smile at the camera, a little cloud forming in front of your mouth as you breathed out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in, the excitement coming down crashing on you.
You knew that you were now supposed to film yourself to catch your reaction when seeing the member, but fuck, you really want to turn it off and take a minute to calm down our nerves.
The streets were busier than before, people now leaving their workplaces to go out for their lunches, students walking home and drivers honking at whatever crossed their paths. How were you supposed to know who the member was? Would he be able to find you, instead?
“okay,” you filmed yourself looking around the streets, not noticing a figure in dark clothes approaching you from behind, “he should be here any minute now.”
The member came to a halt two steps behind you, his cap and face mask leaving only his sharp eyes to be exposed. He wouldn’t admit it, but he, too, felt quite nervous. And that nervousness only doubled when he found out that the person he was about to meet didn’t speak any Korean. He knew that the company did this on purpose to get more material, but he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself.
Just as he was about to speak up, you turned around and got startled when you saw a man standing right behind you, his tall frame and dark clothes adding to the shock.
“oh my god,” you caught yourself speaking out before you could find your composure, eyes widening, “i- uh.”
The camera was still directed at our face, perfectly catching your off-guard expression.
“hello.” He bowed down his head, keeping his voice quiet, “I am sunghoon.” He spoke out carefully, his tongue wetting his lips under his back facemask.
You cleared your throat, copying his bow and introducing yourself as well.
aint no way that they would do this to you.
It wasn’t that you did not like sunghoon, no. you thought that he was a very interesting character, but, well. He didn’t speak any English, at least not as much as you hoped.
The both of you then stood there, quietly starring at the other for an entire minute. Your arm stayed up high, this time turning the camera to film the two of you.
Okay, so you saw him. What now? What did Seon-In say you were supposed to do after meeting? You introduced yourselves as anyone else would do if they are supposed to meet with someone they didn’t know. Okay. Cool.
“okay,” sunghoon spoke up first again, determined to make the best of the situation, “we can, uh, go to, café, and- uh- crew is there.” He tried to hold back the cringe he felt from hearing himself speak english, hoping that you understood him to know what he wanted to do. It seemed just as him, you were also unsure what to do next, whether it was due to the shock of meeting him or simply because you genuinely didn’t know.
He looked down into your eyes, watching as they lit up in realization, “okay! Yes! Thank you so much!” you bow down your head once more, wanting to respect his culture. You smiled up at him, grateful that he seemd to understand how you were feeling.
Sunghoon found himself copying your smile, his finger pointing towards the camera, “I can- uh- film.”
You looked at the camera one last time before handing it over to him, happy to grant your arm some rest.
You stepped forward, signalizing that you were ready to go to the café he was talking about, watching him as he adjusted the camera angle to film the two of you from above. That is how you spent the walk to the café, quietly walking next to each other, looking at your surroundings and greeting each other with an awkward smile whenever your eyes met. You could, however, not see sunghoon smile at you, as he was still covering his face with a mask that he did not take off until you finally settled down at a table in the café, the camera now placed at the edge to film you two.
After meeting with other crew members, who told you both what you were supposed to do today, you were once again left alone with sunghoon, sharing a somewhat comfortable silence.
This time, you decided that it was your turn to speak up first, “so, do you know what you want to eat?”
You watched him as his eyes snapped to meet yours before looking down at the menu again, lis tongue quickly wetting his lips, “I want, the, uh, tiramisu? Yes.” He nodded to himself, then looked back at you, “and you?”
“hm,” your eyes dance along the menu, happy to see that they have an English translation, “I think i- hm, do you want to share the strawberry cake with me?” you asked, looking at him.
Sunghoon gazed at you intensively, as if to make sure he understood you correctly, “you eat tiramisu, then, too?”
You sat up straight, happy that you seemed to communicate well with him, “yeah! If you want?”
All he did was nod before calling the waiter over to your table, ordering your cakes along with the drink of your choice. You couldn’t help but look at his side profile as he was still ordering everything, still unable to comprehend that you were deadass sitting in a café with a k-pop singer, about to share some cakes and what not. And this would be going on for the rest of the week.
Oh wow.
The silence returned once more as the waiter walked away to ring in your orders, the sound of other people inside blending into the background.
“so,” you sat up straight, hoping to make the best out of the situation, “how old are you?”
Someone fucking punch you in the face for being so awkward.
“I am,” sunghoon also sat up, pushing away a stray strand from his eyes, “twenty-three. My birthday, uh- was, two days ago.” He answered kindly.
Hearing that, you thought of the little gift you had bought for him at the convenience store, “oh! Wait!”
You turned in your seat to grab something out of your coat pockets, biting down on your lip to calm your nerves.
“here,” you push the heating pad and a snowflake key chain towards him, chuckling at the coincidence that the snowflake suited his name of “ice-prince” in the k-pop community, “happy belated birthday!”
Sunghoon stared down at the things in your hands, lips parted slightly. His expression was quite normal, you’d say, neither his eyes widened nor did he raise his eyebrows in surprise.
Though you could tell that he was somewhat taken aback from the sudden gift, as he could only open and close his mouth, searching for the right words to say.
Sunghoon didn’t know how to react, if he was being honest, since he did not expect anything like this. But seeing the excitement in your eyes, the apples of your cheeks rising as you smiled at him with such genuine intention, he couldn’t do anything but take the pad a d key chain from your hands, bowing his head slightly and smiling back at you just as happy.
“thank you very much, i-“ he swallowed down, “I am really happy, thank you.”
Fuck, he felt bad that he did not think of doing such kind gesture to you as well. You must think that he was rude or bothered to be here. He couldn’t even thank you properly.
So, he did what he was trained to do to express his gratitude and turned towards the camera to show it his new gifts.
“everyone, she even got me a late birthday gift,” he quickly flashed you a smile before he continued, “ah, I feel so bad now, I can’t even thank her properly.” Kissing his teeth, sunghoon once again thanked you.
You smiled at him, then looked at the waiter that suddenly approached your table to bring your cakes, your tea and sunghoons iced americano.
Now with your table filled with your orders, you picked up the camera to show it to the viewers, “here we have tiramisu-“ you begin, cutting off to chuckle as sunghoon starts to pick up the plate to enhance your presentation, “thank you, dear sunghoon!”
His eyes crescented as he smiled at your words, continuing with your presentation, “here, strawberry cake, and- uh, iced americano, and tea!” he finished, lifting each item towards the camera to get a closer look.
You moved to place the camera back to the edge, sunghoon however decided to take it off your hands to turn the lens towards you [and the table] instead, mumbling to himself, “here we can see the pretty view better…”
Unsure what he was saying, you simply threw up a peace sign and smiled at the camera, picking up the fork with your other hand.
“okay!” sunghoon clapped once, setting the camera back down and picking up his own fork. He couldn’t afford you two to stare off towards the other in silence, he had to take the reign. His showed his fork to the camera, gesturing to you to follow him suit.
Laughing, you copied his moves, “here, guys! Sunghoon will try the cake first, right?” you look back at him, your faces closer now that both of you leaned down to the camera.
Signaling with your fork down to the cake and then back at him, you watched as he nodded before eating a piece of the strawberry cake first.
You started at him as he tasted the cake, his eyebrows drawing together and his head slightly nodding, a clear sign that he liked the cake.
Smiling to yourself, you also take a piece of the cake, from the opposite side, and hum happily as you are met with the fresh take of the strawberries.
“that tastes so good.” You sighed, washing it down with a sip of your tea.
And after that, the two of you continued to talk about your preferences, what fruit was the best, which drink would be better, how iced americano was overrated [he scoffed at you, you refused to back down] and much more. Even though the language barrier was pretty prominent, you couldn’t deny that you quickly blended away the fact that you were casually chilling with a k-pop singer and discussing different opinions on food with him. Whenever sunghoon needed a word that he couldn’t remember in English, he used his phone to translate, at times even handing it over to you when he struggled to understand what you were saying.
You didn’t even notice how fast the time passed. After having left the café to walk around the busy streets of seoul, sunghoon had insisted to get you a hat and a mask as well to protect your privacy, which you didn’t understand as you used a new camera to continue filming your day.
“no, no, wait.” He had said, shaking his head unsatisfied with the hat you had picked out. The camera was in your hand, switching from showing your deadpan expression to his serious one, eyeing the two bucket hats in his hands. One was black, rather fluffy, perfect for the falling temperatures outside. The other was in a warm beige town, the fabric soft and thin.
“both colors look good on her, everyone,” sunghoon pushed his face towards the lens directed at him, scoffing, “I think,” he lifted the black hat, “this one, good.” He looked back at you for approval, nodding to his choice.
You took the hat from his hands, as he now began to film you, humming as you looked at the black hat deep in thought, “but then, you can’t even see my eyes.”
You quickly got used to use your hands while communicating with sunghoon, the both of you finding out that it made talking to each other easier.
“better, no can photograph your- uh, face.” He nodded, taking the hat back to pay for it.
You wished to speak up, wanting to tell him that he did not have to pay for it, though you understood very fast that it would not reach his ears. Even back then, at the café when you at least wanted to pay for your own order, it felt lie sunghoon was read to throw you across the room if you dared to bring that topic up again.
Following him to the cashier, you stood a step behind him and watched him pay for the head while also talking to the camera. Even though you had been in korea for a week already, you still had to get used to smiling with your eyes due to the mask blocking half of your face, so when sunghoon and you stepped out and he put the hat on your head, you leaned back to smile at him with your eyes, hoping to convey your gratitude.
Adjusting the hat, you turned your body toward him, “thank you, sunghoon, really.”
You believed that he also flashed you a toothy smile as you watched his eyes close up a bit, leaning down, “you call me, hoon.” He nodded confidently, pushing the camera high to capture you both at the same time.
You felt heat rush into your neck, slowly creeping up to your ears, as you heard him offer you to call him by a nickname. It must be due to how tired you were, you had been up since seven in the morning and had not the chance to rest so far. That must be why you felt so weird, why this kind offer if his made you feel so taken aback.
You cleared your throat, nodding, “okay, hoon.” Why were you feeling so embarrassed all of a sudden? And fuck, why did he have to say that in front of the camera, you could already feel the hate messages creeping into your dms. Did he hate the way you pronounced his name so much that he wished to help you out?
His airy chuckle reached your ears as the two of you began your walk towards your hotel.
As you reached a streetlight, you felt sunghoon suddenly come to a halt, looking back you before turning back to face the camera, “everyone,” he started, lifting his hand to wave at the camera, “today, we sleep now. We will start- uh, tomorrow, again, good night and see you.” He bowed his head and the pushed the camera closer to you, signaling you to wave at the camera as well.
“ah,” you straightened your back, copying his wave, “see you, everyone! We will be back tomorrow!” you copied him and switched back to your mother tongue, chuckling at his surprised face.
With the camera now turned off, you believed that your ways would part here now, and that you would see him again at the first meeting point tomorrow. Your shocked face must have been visible even with the mask and hat covering majority of your face, as sunghoon laughed and gestured to you that he would walk you back to your hotel.
“in dark, you have to help the girl.” He nodded, eyes all serious, not accepting words of protest.
Touched by his kind words, you quietly thanked him and told him the name of your hotel, which he seemed to know, as he began to walk immediately without any delay.
The air between you was filled with small talk, sharing some facts about the other, him laughing at your poor attempts of speaking any kind of Korean that you picked up from all those years of being a casual listener, and you mirroring that when he tried to pronounce one word in your native language.
Now standing in front of the entrance of your hotel, you turned to face him, unsure what to do.
As if he understood your dilemma, sunghoon moved to grab [you stopped questioning him entirely] your head and squeezed it through your new fluffy hat, wishing you a good night.
Scoffing, you gently slapped off his hand, “yeah, yeah. Good night to you, too, hoon.”
Laughing at your tone, he waved at you one last time and began to walk away, home, you believed. You watched his tall frame slowly disappear into the night, before walking into your hotel, straight to the elevator and up to your room.
------------------------------------
“okay, okay, I waited enough! Now tell me every little dirty thing you did!” your cousin whined as you finally settled into your shared kind sized bed, both of your faces covered by a korean skincare sheet mask.
Groaning, you swatted her hand on your shoulder away, “I signed an nda!” you began, shifiting in your position, “but it was very, hm, nice?” you couldn’t help but giggle, “I thought it would be so, like, I don’t even know, awkward? Uncomfortable? But it was good, his English isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“what are the chances of getting paired up with park sunghoon?” she laughed, leaning back while scrolling on her phone, “you think anyone saw you?”
You shrugged, “well, he bought me a hat and a mask, he might have felt something, or whatever.”
“twitter’s clean.”
“hm, well. Lets hope that it will stay a secret until the videos are released. Wouldn’t want him to be in, like, you know, a stupid scandal just because of a misunderstanding.”
You continued to talk well into the night, trying to avoid of talking about sunghoon and the things he told you, wanting to respect his privacy and the contract you had signed. And even though you quickly calmed down from meeting him after having spent the entire day with him, you couldn’t shake off the anticipation of seeing him again tomorrow. There was so much you’d like to talk to him about, places you’d like to see with him and his weird humor following you around. Even though you feel into a comfortable silence every now and then because it was hard to come up with a topic to talk about in the spot, sunghoon not even once had made you feel uncomfortable your weird in any way. Any sort of awkwardness that might have been rising as quickly covered by a weird noise he made or a bad joke he told you.
You sigh to yourself quietly. The soft snores of your cousin sleeping next to you, the tiredness in your muscles and the warmth you felt with the thought of seeing sunghoon again tomorrow lull you into a dreamless slumber.
-----------------------------
Leaving the warmth of the hotel lobby and stepping outside into the cold morning air draped over korea took more courage than you’d like to admit. You did not have the same privilege to sleep in as your dear cousin did back inside, and now you also ahd to walk to the arranged place where you and sunghoon would meet for the entire week.
Just as you began to walk towards the direction, you heared a loud voice booming from hebind you and something grabbing your shoulder, making you yelp up.
“what the fu-“ you were interrupted by a familiar voice laughing at your shocked expression, eyes snapping down to watch sunghoon laugh at you bent over, the other hand tightly holding onto the camera that was filming him.
“I cant- I, honey,” he managed to talk out, now standing up straight to look at your deadpan expression, “I am sorry, but, you scream so, wah, loud.” He continued to giggle, now pushing the camera towards you.
Scoffing, you pushed his hand out of your face and walk away, not in the mood to be the victim of his mean pranks.
“leave, I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” you groaned, desperately fighting off the smile that crept onto your lips.
You even wore the hat that he got you yesterday, and this is how he treats you first thig in the morning?! Rude.
You continued your aimless walk, ears picking up on his footsteps following you from behind. He was also talking to the camera, though you had no chance to understand what he was saying.
Sunghoon called out your name, now standing right next to you, “I am sorry, okay? Lets go- shopping? Maybe. I will buy you, uh, things.” He had his mask pushed down, revealing his his subtle smirk that he tried to hide away from you.
Thanks to the entire day you spent together yesterday, Sunghoon quickly got to understand that you were a very expressive person when you felt comfortable, and what better way to melt the nice between the next day by scaring you when you least expected it! and oh, was he glad that he did that, no one could have prepared him about how funny you would react!
He bit back a smile as you whined at him, complaining about his approach and even though he did not understand every single word that you uttered at him, he couldn’t help but hang onto your lips, wanting to hear everything that left them.
He turned back to the camera, laughing, “she is very, uh, dramatic, yes. It wasn’t even that scary, honey, you can calm down.”
Your eyes widened, “what?! Do you know how weird that- ugh. No. I don’t-. forget it I forgive you.” You shook your head; hands stemmed on your hips as if surrendering to his nonsense.
And that is how you started your second day of the week with sunghoon, once again walking around, talking even more than you did yesterday, lightly teasing the other and complaining about it to the camera as if it was some kind of supervisor that would aid you if the other was doing too much.
Other highlights of the day were also when you found a restaurant that sold food from your home country, where you turned to sunghoon and begged him to try out some with you, just to check if it was authentic or not,
“c’mon, hoonie, it is really good! You can eat japchae whenever!” you moved closer to him, the camera capturing the two of you walking along the somewhat busy streets, any sign of awkwardness somehow vanishing as time moved on.
And how could sunghoon even say no to your wishes, the way your voice rose with each word and your head tilting to the side. He never really liked standing too close to people he wasn’t entirely comfortable around, and even though he had only met you just yesterday, he also knew that he didn’t feel anything weird by being so close to your body. Quite the opposite, if he was being honest. He liked the sound your jackets made when they rubbed against each other, liked the gentle bumps that followed because for some reason you could walk in a straight line.
Mock groaning to tease you a little, sunghoon agreed and followed you inside the small restaurant, nose met with the smell of strong spices and warm food.
As soon as he placed the camera down at the edge of the table as he is used to, he couldn’t take his eyes off your excited face anymore, a smile of his own creeping onto his lips as he watched to talk in your native language to the restaurant owners and ordering whatever you wanted for the two of you.
Usually, he would be careful with how he acted around you, as you were a woman and his fans could at times react rather, how shall he word it, intense, whenever a person of the opposite sex was involved. And he was trained, he knew how he had to act, was no stranger to the whole public figure life codes and what not, but who cared. If his company was actually against him being genuine with someone else, they would have not make him and the other members spend a week with a stranger. It was bound to happen, getting comfortable, he meant.
And with this comfortable feeling and much more, this day also slowly came to an end. After getting something to eat and also getting some drinks to go, sunghoon kept his promise and actually took you to a shopping center, buying you some skincare products and a ring that you planned on gifting your cousin, as you told him before.
“so, your cousin is- here? In korea?” he asked, camera inside his pocket, as he decided to walk around with you without filming. He believed that you got enough footage for the day, and would only film again when it was time for you to go back to your hotel.
You nodded, eyes looking up at his, “yeah, she spent a year here and has friends she can meet,” you began, taking a sip from your tea, “i was sad that she would be alone while we are together, you know?”
Sunghoon hummed, his arm brushing against yours, “she can, uh, meet my friend. Members, you know?”
Sunghoon felt heat creeping up his cheeks as he watched you laugh at his words, head falling back, “who knows, maybe she can also spend a week with him?”
There has never been a time in which he was more grateful to have known jake as he does now, thanks to him and his constant bickering with jay in english, sunghoon is able to understand quite a lot of what you are saying. His only wish was to be able to speak to you just as comfortably as you do.
“yeah, maybe.” He agreed, looking around.
Where else could he take you? What else would interest you?
Just as he wanted to take out his phone to google some locations, you closed your hand around his bicep, stopping him from walking any further, “hoonie!”
“yes?”
“are there any art museums we could go to?”
“art?” he asked again, watching you nod, “wait a minute, I think…” he drifted away deep in thought, thinking of what way would be the best to reach the museum in seoul.
“maybe,” he began, straightening his back, “we go with taxi, to, uh the- museum. 10 minutes.”
And that is how you found you guys at the entrance of the Korean national art museum in seoul, camera in hand to film your spontaneous trip,
“hey guys!”, you started, moving closer to sunghoon to put the tow of you in the frame, “we decided to come to the museum! And now hoonie and I will rate the stuff here,” you faced him, “okay?”
Sunghoon just looked down at you, his face covered by a mask and hair hid by a beanie, “okay.”
And that is how you two speed-walked through different sections of the museum, pretending to be serious art critiques and rating every piece.
At times sunghoon would even go so far and claim that he could do the same piece with his left foot [he mostly relied on body langue to get the message through, but you understood] and laughed until your stomach hurt.
“ya,” he called out, taking the camera out of your hand to film you instead, “honey, go there and uh, walk like model to me.” He barley finished his sentence when he couldn’t hold back anymore and began laughing at your poor attempt to catwalk, the empty section you were currently in easing your worries that someone else might see you.
You walked back to him as he turned off the camera, his hand hovering at the small of your back to guide you to the next floor,
“why is it so empty today?” you asked, eyes only ever catching a few people either entering or leaving the room.
“oh,” he began, taking out his phone, “today, uh, is holiday at university. Many people go there.” He explained, handing yo over his phone.
“picture?” you asked, as if it was something you had always done. And well, today, you kinda did. Whenever sunghoon wanted you to take a picture, he just handed you his phone and walked to the place he wanted to be seen. As you had explained to him yesterday, you weren’t really allowed to use you phone while you were with him, all to protect his privacy and such. So, whenever sunghoon felt like you or him wanted a picture of the place you were at, he gave you his phone and let you do whatever you wanted.
It felt weirdly intimate and, well, you couldn’t deny that it made your cheeks heat up. Who would have thought that sunghoon could be such an attentive and sweet guy?
As he came back to check the picture you made, you couldn’t help but look up at his face, heart forcefully beating against your rips.
“good?” your voice was just above a whisper, not trusting it at the moment.
Sunghoon hummed, turning his head to look right back at you.
Clearing your throat, you took a step back and handed him his phone back, stepping towards the exit floor, “it is late now, maybe we should head back?”
He simply followed you, his hand once more placed at the small of your back while his other hand called for a cap.
Well, fuck.
--------------------------------------
The rest of the week was spent with just as much teasing and sneaky gazes that never really met. For some reason, sunghoon tried to use the camera as little as possible, even though filming your day was the entire purpose of why you two even met up.
Though, you weren’t one to complain, actually appreciating the private moments that only ever stayed between you two.
The other days you either went to different cafè and once again pretended to be professional taste testers, other times you simply sat down on a bench with some snacks and taught the other words in your native language. Sunghoon even told you about some songs he planned on covering, told you about his plans for the future with the band and even about his family.
Ad you didn’t hold back either, telling him just as much about your future goals, your friends and family.
There were times where your hands brushed against the others as you somehow started walking very close to each other, times where you wished that he might hold your and even times when he actually did.
Maybe it was a great idea to buy big hats that would cover your face, as you couldn’t begin to phantom how you would be explaining to others that you were walking around seoul while holding hands with a k-pop idol. Though you also liked it, this intimacy that was wrapped behind a veil with only you and sunghoon actually knowing what was going on, or well, at least pretending as if you knew.
If you were being honest, you had no idea what was happening and why it came all of a sudden; this hand holding, the leaning into each other and whispering into the others ear; the pictures he started to take of you when he thought you weren’t looking and the hours you were desperately scratching together to not part ways for the day.
How were you supposed to explain any of this to your people, how were you supposed to just part ways with sunghoon after your last day tomorrow? Though you were glad that you got to spend so much time with him, you dreaded the thought that all of this would fade into a faraway memory after tomorrow.
Sunghoon seemed to have the same thoughts, because unlike the other days where he would find a way to surprise [aka make you scream and laugh at your misery] you at the hotel entrance, this time, he simply gave you a singular red rose, the camera tucked away into his pocket and his smile not really reaching his eyes as it usually does.
He also didn’t take the camera out as you started walking aimlessly around the city, more in hidden backstreets instead of at the center of the city as you usually would. Your conversation was also rather airy, never rising as it always does, since sunghoon never had an inside voice when he was with you.
You hated to spend your last day in such gloomy mood, but you were just oh so sad that you wouldn’t be seeing sunghoon after today and would be leaving the country in just two days.
“so,” you spoke up first, wanting to rid you two of this foul mood, “what do you want to do, today? We only ever do what I want.”
Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately. Rather, he looked down at your hands – you didn’t even notice that you began to hold his – before he spoke, “maybe, your hotel?”
What.
“uh-“ fuck, what did he just say, “what do you mean?”
Sunghoon must have realized what his answer sounded like as he watched your horrified expression, “ah! No, no, honey, wait i- I mean, comfortable, we can, just, uh, talk.” His cheeks were covered in a peachy hue as he tried to explain himself.
Laughing at his face, you nodded and started pulling him along, “okay, hoonie. Lets get comfortable!”
----------------------------------------
Well, comfortable where exactly? On the singular king-sized bed, or maybe the wooden stool that held your pajama’s that you had yet to pack away.
“you know what,” you didn’t care anymore, this was your last day, and you didn’t want to spend it in any awkward silence, “lets just lay down, they change the sheets anyway.”
Nodding to yourself as if to confirm your own statement, you crawl to your side of the bed and tap down next to you, inviting sunghoon to make himself comfortable. And he didn’t hesitate to follow through, laying down right next to you.
You turned to your side, eyes looking at his directly as he copied you, “hey.”
He chuckled, “hello.”
That ripped a breathy laugh from your throat, unfamiliar emotions clawing at your heart.
“hm, we still have to film a bit of our last day.”
“yes, but, not now. Later”
Sunghoon shifts a bit shuffling closer to your body, his right arm rising to caress your cheek.
“hoonie?”
Sniffling, he cleared his nose before pulling away, “oh, sorry.”
Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “no, it- uh-, I liked it. it’s fine.”
“are you sad, uh, you-, today is our last day.” He asked, tongue quickly sliding across his lower lip.
“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “it was really fun with you, even though you are really mean.”
You think back to yesterday at the karaoke booth, in which sunghoon laughed at you as if his lungs were cabled to a box, his strong voice bouncing off the walls as you tried your very best to sing along the unfamiliar sing he had chosen for you.
You only ever slapped his chest when he laughed at you, but your anger quickly vanished when you listened to him sing whatever song you chose, his gaze at times directed at you as if he was speaking to you through the lyrics. You wished that you understood the text, but even though you didn’t, it still felt warm and cozy, especially as his gentle voice and his even gentler hands reached towards you.
How could you ever forget about him?
Sunghoon pinched your cheek gently as he laughed at your words, his laugh deepening at your usual reaction of slapping his chest, “you are, ah,” he pushed himself up to his elbow, now looking down at you as he searched for the correct words, “you are easy to, uh- make fun.”
Gasping at his words, you also pushed yourself up, face now close to his as you balanced your upper body on your hands, “stop! I will bite! I really do, my mom told me that I used to bite others in kinderga-“
You were interrupted when sunghoon covered your eyes with his hand and leaned in to press a quick peck at the corner of your mouth, catching you off guard.
“huh?”
You look at him confused as he pulled away, now leaning his upper body against the headboard of the bed and refusing to meet your confused gaze.
You sat up straight, leaning toward him, each arm at one + side of his hips, yet he still refused to meet your eyes, looking up as you moved your face closer to his. The bedsheets rustled with each movement of your bodies, and you could see the tiny hair on his face.
“hoonie?”
“ah, honey, I just-“ he finally snaps, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug, “don’t forget me, okay?”
Once again, “huh?”
You tried to pull away, your own hands now resting at the side of his neck, “sunghoon, hoonie,” you pressed your thumbs against his cheeks to make his eyes face you, “why would I ever forget about you? I should be the one saying that! Don’t forget about me! Okay?”
Sunghoon placed each of his hands on top of yours, gently squeezing them as he nodded, “okay.”
His voice came out rather meek, and you somehow struggled to believe that someone who was rumored to be cool and collected could sound so vulnerable.
“okay.”
---------------
Unfinished work alert!
This has been written in one sitting, I have not proofread anything and sunghoon is so out of character it hurts. But as I said, I just wanted to write it down and I believe that maybe even one of you would like it!
unedited, unfinished draft of something I had laying around for a while. I am not sure when I will be finishing this up.
summary: [name] promised herself not to get too attached to anyone or anything during her exchange year in America. a week in, she not only gets attached to a stray cat, but also to its owner, slowly but surely.
It wasn’t every day that she decided to leave her home and spend an entire day at campus without her headphones. Nor is it that she would ever decide such thing anyway, instead, it was time running faster than ever this morning, her alarm not ringing loud enough, the stove plotting against her, all of those causing her to forget more than just her headphones. Now she has to deal with the loudness of the people from this foreign, yet still somewhat familiar continent, the cars in the background, the little stones screeching under the pressure of her foot as she walks ahead.
Los Angeles is humid in that golden, almost disorienting way – air heavy with anticipation and car exhaust, with laughter and chatter carrying itself around the park. She has always liked spring, liked the way in which wearing just a hoodie or long sleeve shirt was enough to get by. Though [name] isn’t sure if it is the same here in America. Maybe it is her imagination, or maybe it is her brain that was washed by all the stuff she had seen about America back then, but the sun up high along with the greenery surrounding her made this spring afternoon feel hotter than ever.
She adjusts the strap of her heavy bag, suddenly missing her headphones even more.
The walk from campus to her apartment isn’t that long, filling her with relief that she is able to walk around a bit and not rely on any kind of transportation in form of a vehicle. Though it has been a week since she has arrived here in the states, [name] still must get used to a lot around here; the loudness, the touchy-ness and almost robotic friendliness of the people here a stark contrast to what she is used in her home country. She is halfway down the street leading to her apartment when she feels something fluffy brush against her ankle, almost like a gentle breeze. So, when she looks down to find a fluffy cat looking up at her with its big, yellow eyes, she almost jumps away.
An orange cat, quite cute actually, the way it looks up to her and gently meows. [name] doesn’t regret a thing as she crouches down and meows right back at it, her hand scratching its chin, a chuckle leaving her as the cat leans against her hand. [name] raises her head to look around, anything to find out if that little guy [at least, that is what she thinks it is] has an owner or someone looking for him. There isn’t a collar in sight, nor anything else that would help her make out where he has come from. And even though [name] wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her evening petting a cat and meowing at it, she still has some chores waiting for her back home, and a new chapter that she has to prepare for her seminar in the morning.
With a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, she straightens her legs and softly waves at the cat, a small, yet in her eyes very tragic, goodbye. She tries to continue her walk home, mind already preparing a small to-do list she plans to work through for the rest of her evening. Turning her head back one last time to see the cat, she finds herself come to a halt when she sees the cat standing next to her, head looking up, eyes focused on her.
“eh,” she begins, at a loss for words, “do you want more scratches?”
It must be that American air that made her ask a cat a genuine question.
She sighs, hands on her hips, “I really wish I could, but, I, I kinda have to leave, you know?”
The cat meows at her again, tone rather persistent if she may add.
[name] starts looking around once again, hoping to see a figure that is desperately looking for their cat, or anything, really. Though for the first time since she has set foot on American soil, she finds herself completely alone outside of her apartment, the streets echoing with each step she takes, no car in sight and no sound from any house merging.
Maybe if she just keeps walking without paying that little guy any mind, he’ll go home on his own. what if they live in the same direction? She can’t just shoo him away if that is the case now, can she?
That is how the two strangers find themselves in front of a closed door of [name]s apartment building, fluffy [that is what she has named him during their 5-minute walk] sitting next to her, as if it is the most normal thing on the world. As if they have always entered this building together or whatever.
“ugh, you can’t be-“ [name] pauses to take a deep breath, fingers clutching the bride of her nose as if she has witnessed the biggest disappointment to mankind, “you can’t be here, fluff. Really, don’t you think your family will miss you?”
All she receives is a small meow. [name] scoffs, of course that would be all she gets.
She squads down, eyes stern, “listen, I love you, okay?”
Orange eyes slowly blink back at her, as if it understands what she is saying.
“I feel weirdly connected to you, as if you are the first person – kinda thing - that has understood me here. But you gotta return home, man.”
The cat blinks back at her once more before it shakes his head as it sneezes.
“well,” [name] gets up, posture straight, “this is where we part.”
[name] throws herself onto her couch after she placed the bowl with canned tuna on the floor next to her small coffee table. She cannot believe that this thing has managed to convince her to let it crash at her place for the time being.
The quiet sound of wet food being eaten fills the silence of her small apartment, the smell of canned tuna filling her nose.
“ugh.” She groans, head resting against the back of her couch.
When she was told that America will be a crazy chapter in her life, she did not expect this. An orange cat, time management problems – which she never had before – and those weird schedule times of university courses.
Instead of letting her thoughts distract her, [name] decides it is finally time to get up and at least clean her kitchen. Or do something, really.
A chuckle leaves her throat as she thinks back to the time her mother told her that it seemed like she has bees up her ass, never sitting still, always somehow moving. Even though she is a self-claimed homebody. And now that homebody has to share her space with another homebody as it seems. At least she likes cats, she guesses.
That night, [name] finds herself sharing her bed with fluffy, who takes up more space than her, disregarding their sizes. He sprawls across her bed like a king, has already claimed every surface of her apartment within his first hour here, hissed at [name] when she moved to quickly, and he somehow still seems to like her. One paw presses against her arm, his soft purrs lulling [name] to a soft state, almost asleep yet still conscious. She didn’t talk to fluffy that much, besides a few meows here and there when she genuinely couldn’t resist anymore.
[name] figured that someone is probably missing him, and as soon as she finishes her classes the next morning, she will try to find any clue of a missing cat announcement or whatever. A new sense of determination pulses through her veins, fluffy’s soft snores easing her mind.
Yeah, that will do.
It isn’t until the next morning, outside a coffee shop near the street she found fluffy on, when her eyes catch a glimpse of a missing cat poster, its picture showing a cat with the same audacity as the one currently sitting inside her home.
LOST CAT — LUFFY
orange tappy, orange eyes, attitude problem.
last seen near UCLA campus.
REWARD.
please call: [number]
Huh.
[name] fishes out her phone from her back pocket and snaps a quick picture of the flyer with the intention of calling as soon as her classes finish.
Relief washes over her as she continues her way to campus. She would have killed to have a cat of her own, but getting attached while she is on an exchange program is simply too much of a risk she isn’t willing to take. She already loves fluffy – or well, luffy – a lot, but it will be the best option for both parties to sperate before any of them grows attached.
Studies first, attachment later.
Her gaze stays fixed on the ground as she moves along the trees, only ever rising when she feels someone get closer to her. A guy.
Oh, man.
He seems kind, she thinks, kinda. They all do, if she is being honest. [name] is aware that she has to get used to this very open and communicative culture that would become her new home for the next year, though she simply can’t bring herself to mirror everyone’s enthusiasm here.
“hey,” the blonde guy speaks up, voice laced with kindness with a hint of confidence, “saw you around yesterday and actually wanted to talk to you, but, like, you kinda vanished, and I didn’t get the chance anymore.”
She blinks once, “okay.”
“I’m jack.” He introduces himself, offering her his hand to shake, which she does.
“[name], nice to meet you.” She actually wants to smash her head against a wall for sounding so flat and disinterested. This is her chance to get connections, she has to pull herself together.
He flashes her his teeth in a cheeky grin, “you too! I know ‘t’s weird, like, why would I just come here, but I, uh, I saw that we share a class and there is this group project comin’”
[name] looks down at his lips in concentration, not wanting to miss anything he says. She must admit, he does speak fast, and the dialect is also something she has yet get used to.
“oh,” she straightens her back, “do you want to work together?”
“yeah! Would that be okay?”
She shrugs, she needs someone to work with anyway, “sure.”
After exchanging numbers, and another round of thank you’s from jack, both part their ways to move along with their days.
She fucking hates group projects.
The call was brief.
The voice on the other hand – a man, rather old, though not grandpa-age-old - thanked her profusely. Said he’d arrange a pick-up from her place, which she at first tried to decline.
But of course, people could be persistent, so now she is standing in front of her apartment building, freshly changed into comfortable clothes and face bare. She holds Fluffy in her arms as if he was a newborn, though the cat doesn’t seem to mind.
The person on the phone said that [name] would be able to recognize the person that would come to pick the cat up, and even though she highly doubts it because she has only been here for a week, she also stopped trying from the very beginning. She guesses that the person would understand who she is when they see her holding their cat in her arms.
“how long does it take” she murmurs under her breath to fluffy, who doesn’t pay her any mind and stays fast asleep inside her arms.
Lucky guy.
Just as she is about to annoy him some more, she hears a soft, almost hesitant voice from in front of her. [name] looks up and is immediately met by the sight of a tall guy. Hoodie half-on, hood up and cappy pulled down to hide his face. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up, revealing the ink dancing around his skin in an interesting formation. His right hand holds a carrier – for fluffy – and his other hand clutches around his phone.
[name] doesn’t mean to react, though she can’t help herself and take a step back, that tall and somewhat hidden appearance making a shudder run down her spine.
“oh,” she clears her throat, “you must be here for him, right?”
Stupid ass question, she scoffs at herself, of course he is.
“yeah,” his voice was deep, eyes briefly glancing at her before they focus on the ball of fluff sleepin inside her arms, “luffy, c’mon.”
He takes a step forward, [name] takes one back.
As she sees the confusion settling on his features – which are actually quite pretty, if she may say so – she speaks up to explain herself, “proof?”
“proof?”
“yeah, something that shows me he’s with you. What if you just pretend to be his owner or whatever” She gently pushes her arms forward as she gestures to luffy. She has heard some crazy stuff about Americans, she is not about to risk anything. Is that mean? She guesses so, but oh, who cares.
The man nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he whispers a small “fair.”, unlocking his phone to show [name] a rather, well, interesting picture of them both wearing cowboy hats and fake mustaches.
“here you go.” She mutters, holding her arms up for the stranger to take luffy, who seems not so pleased to see his owner. He even looks quite annoyed.
Luffy lets out a soft, miserable mewl, clinging onto her sleeve as the stranger in front of her encloses his hands around Luffy’s small body.
“I think he likes you more than he likes me.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at his cats’ behavior.
[name] doesn’t say anything, just a gentle smile as she takes a small step back.
“thanks again, honestly.” He speaks up again, “and about the reward-“
“it’s fine.” She cuts him off, holding her hand up slightly to stop his hand from taking something out of his pocket.
A frown settles upon his handsome features, “no, it’s what was promised, like-“
“it’s really fine. Thank you.” She nods to emphasize her point.
“’ight. I ‘preciate it.”
[name] nods one last time, starting to walk towards the door at the same time the guy picks up the carrier to get along as well. Both smile at the other as a form to say goodbye.
And with that, she walks up the stairs.
[name] decides to meet up with jack that very week, the end of her first week here in the states. LA has finally shaken off its gloomy spring morning and has started to blister properly. She is still in a haze – assignments, essays, settling into her new apartment, faces that blend into each other – and the air around the campus is still to calm, students had to yet settle into the new semester.
As she places her bag onto the wooden table, jacks soft voice meets her ears halfway, laced with tiredness form the day before, “I fucking hate that guy, for real.”
She chuckles at his greeting, “yeah, it is quite mean, no?”
It’s not like she has never worked on a group assignment before; no. [name] has worked on a fair share of projects until now, her university somehow believing that group assignment would help students to get better grades. What she isn’t used to, though, is having a group assignment in her first week of the semester, the professor way to passionate in the way he talked about his expectations for the class.
“Where are you from, by the way.” Jack sits up as he asks her, eyes curious and brows raised.
[name] raises her eyebrows, “that obvious?”
Her accent has always been subtle, at least that is what she thinks. [name] has been speaking English for a long time, she had to. Schools valued it, and to be honest, all the fanfictions that are somewhat bearable are written in English, she has to know the language to appreciate fine arts.
Jack shrugs, shooting her a grin as he takes out his MacBook from his bag.
“[Country], you know. Multicultural and all.” She answers, spine straight as she sits down on the hard bench.
“that’s crazy.” Is all he says before both settle for a comfortable silence, eyes focusing on the document that explains their project requirements in great detail.
A gentle breeze caresses her cheeks, its warmth easing the tension in her upper body. Is she supposed to say anything else? Keep the conversation flowing, or should she stay quiet? This is why she isn’t a fan of group projects. What is she even supposed to do now? If given the chance, [name] would simply do all the work by herself, her experience with group projects breaking her trust in others regarding that topic. though jack seems to take it just as seriously, not once has he touched his phone nor tried to find reasons for why he couldn’t stay any longer. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it has been before.
Hope blossoms inside her chest. This could be her chance to start anew, grow and learn to be an optimistic person, instead of someone who doubts others before they could get any chance. Maybe being here, in a foreign continent, stuck between people who smiled way too much for her liking, would help her change her perspective of life as well.
Yeah, that is it.
She nods to herself, subtle but there. She will give jack a chance, she will try to reach out first as well. No more closing in, no more staying at home all day when she has the chance to go out and meet new people.
If she grows close enough to jack, who knows. Perhaps he would like her enough to introduce her to his own friends, just because he believes that she is cool enough, or whatever. [name] isn’t looking for any serious attachments here, anyway. All she wants it to fight against her own habit of closing herself off to people, she wants to step out of her comfort zone, even if it is just this one time.
At least, that’s what she has thought those few days ago, when her and jack just started to work on their project.
How was she supposed to know that he would grow to like her immediately afterwards? Yes, it was her that planned to change her ways during her stay in the states, but she also needed some time to make peace with her decision. She wasn’t aware of how it would lead her to her current situation, standing amid a garage sale with a group of guys she has never met before.
Even though the weather is mild and clouds filled the sky, the perfect time to have a quiet tea on her balcony, in her opinion, the loud voices of those guys jack has introduced her to find their place in this peaceful vibe.
While there are may other people here who want to wander through the different stands and leave some money for those who are selling, the sound of bargains and music stands no chance against jack and his crew, some of them even holding cameras to film their adventures.
[name] has yet to meet all of them, jack has told her before that some of his friends would arrive later due to an earlier schedule.
“I bet you guys would get along just fine, [name],” he began, voice rough after all the studying they had done, “you’re, like, a bit quiet, but, like, they all are cool and wouldn’t mind you taggn’ along, y’know.” He finished, hopeful that he could persuade his new friend to join him for his weekend activities.
“but-“ [name] started, unsure if she was mentally prepared to step out of her zone that fast.
Jack cut her off, blue eyes rolling, “nah, save it, man. I’ll textcha the location, ‘kay?”
She wants to go home.
She misses her couch, her book.
Hell, she even misses fluffy’s mean look even though it's been almost two weeks since she last saw him.
[name] is aware that jack seems to trust her enough to introduce her to his friends, but she is also aware that he cant stand next to her the entire time and make them wait for her grow more comfortable around her new environment.
They all seem so, how should she phrase it, energetic? Chaotic, maybe, if she is being honest. Loud conversation flowing around, laughter, shouting and weird movements fill in her senses. They kind of remind her of her cousins back home, just as wild and unpredictable.
“yo, vin!” the one with black hair yells out all of a sudden, arm raised in a greeting as his [fuck, she forgot his name], eyes focus on ‘vin’ behind her.
Curious, she tilts her head back to see the newcomer, and is met with a familiar sight. It feels like as if she has seen this guy before, his tall frame and sharp features ringing a bell inside her mind.
Dirty-blonde hair, a tank top that reveals many of his scattered tattoos along his sun-kissed skin, loose pants, and his phone in hand. He greets black-hair-guy with a big grin, eyes looking ahead and nowhere else.
Is he someone she might have seen on campus? Those tattoos, that nose piercing. She knows them from somewhere, her eyes narrow as she gazes down at the lawn, mind trying to find the right pieces.
“and this,” Jack comes up from her side, his warm and gently resting on her shoulder as he pulls [name] out of her thoughts, “is [name], exchange program and all, she’s pretty chill.”
[name] looks up to face the guy that has just arrived, watching as his eyes widen a bit from the sight of her.
So she is right, they do know each other, kinda.
“that’s vinnie, vin, vincent-“
Vinnie interrupts his friend with a tight smile, arms crossing in front of his chest, “vinnie’s enough.” He clears his throat, slightly shifting in his stance, “[name], right? Uh, like, how, how have you been?”
Jack seems happy with his work, squeezing her shoulder one last time before he moves back to joke about something with the others, at least, that’s what [name] thinks.
[name] mirrors his actions, crossing her arms, quickly glancing to her side as if to collect her thoughts, “good, thank you. Uh, this, okay this sounds weird, but have we met before? I know we did, but I, yeah.”
It seems as if a new sense if realization washes over vinnie when he hears her question, lips pulling into a soft smile.
“I came to pick up the cat, almost been a week.”
Her eyes widen a bit, suddenly the face in front of her matching with the one she has seen last week, “oh! How is he?”
Vinnie laughs at her question, his hand reaching up to scratch his nape, “uh, yeah, he’s fine, a bit of a troublemaker, like, always. But he’s good. Thanks again for taking care of him.”
[name] feels herself break into a bright smile, the news about her first friend here somehow filling her with a certain warmth.
“you are very welcome, i’m glad he’s okay.”
And that’s how the two of them find themselves in a, well, comfortable?, silence, glancing around the garage sale, taking small steps ahead as they somewhat decided to just walk around. [name] did say that she wants to make more connections and step out of her comfort zone, though what is she supposed to do now?
She subtly [she hopes it is subtle] looks up at his tall figure every now and then as they continue their walk in silence, eyes soaking in his sharp features. Up from his eyebrows and big, brown eyes, to his sharp nose and all the way down to his lips and his chin.
When she catches herself actually checking out a literal stranger, she straightens her spine to clear her thoughts.
Get it together, that’s so embarrassing.
“so,” she decides its time to speak up, this is her chance, “uh, do you do this often?”
Someone throw her out of a window this fucking now.
Vinnie chuckles next to her, head turning to face her, the amusement very much present on his face, “well, not really,” he shrugs, stopping to look at a cap that is placed on one of the tables, “but, miles wanted to try something for a new video thing, y’know?”
She didn’t, but whatever.
“oh, okay.”
“and you?”
She looks up at him again, trying to collect her thoughts, “yeah, back when I was a kid. My parents made me sell my own toys. Was a hard time.”
[name] smiles as she looks down at her hands, the mentioning of her parents making her miss them even more.
“that’s crazy,” they continue their walk, slowly heading to the group, “I hate losing things I like, would have hidden them all or something.” He grins, mouth opening to say something more before he is interrupted by one if his friends calling him for something.
With a quick wave, vinnie steps away and greets his friend with a handshake, loud voices suddenly becoming even louder.
Well, that was nice, she thinks. One more person she knows now, one more step ahead. Though she couldn’t shake away the feeling that she is missing something. Jack, vinnie, hell even the others even though they didn’t talk that much to her, all seem familiar. As if they have met before, which can't be the case. This is her first time she is in America, and she doubts that any of them would have come to her small town back home.
She watches as the one with brown hair, she thinks his name is miles, walks towards her, hands in his pockets. All if them have welcomed her with open arms when jack first introduced her to the round, though this is the first time any of them has come up to her to talk.
“aye, wanna check out that book stand? Jack’s told me you like, uh, those philosophy books, and stuff.”
[name] smiles at his kind attempt to make her feel included, gladly accepting his offer.
Just as she has done before with vinnie, miles and her walk around the remaining tables in a comfortable pace, falling into an even more comfortable conversation initiated from his side.
That is how she finds herself, 15 minutes later, arms straining from the two heavy bags filled with books she was carrying, heading towards the car jack had picked her up with previously.
“oh, shit.” Jacks eyes widen when he sees the bag she is carrying, gently coming up to take those from her.
“i-“
“shut up.”
“okay?”
Placing the bags into his trunk, he turns back to speak up again, “wanna come with us to get some drinks? The guys like you, so, like, no pressure or whatever.”
She walks up to the passenger side of the car, taking in his words. She has thought the complete opposite, actually. Thinking that she has been a bit too quiet, less invested in their doings which made them take a step back from her. And honestly, she really wants to go home for the day, all the tables filled with various things, people yelling around the field to sell their stuff and the guys talking loudly than ever kind of drained her for the rest of the evening.
“would it be weird to decline?”
Jack scoffs, already opening his side of the car, “dude, no it wouldn’t. ill drive u back, yeah?”
[name] wasn’t joking last time when she said that she believes that the others did not like her that much.
After jack has dropped her off and waved her goodbye that evening, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t meet again other than for their project. Heck, maybe she isn’t that bad to spend time with, she has her funny moments, she thinks. She hopes. But all of them are guys, men, people. With her being the only woman there, it might have made them feel uncomfortable, at least that’s how she perceived it when she stood next to them during that garage sale.
That is why it isn’t hard to understand her shock when jack has invited her to meet with the others for a film night at their place.
At. Their. Place.
She is aware that it’s a stupid idea, accepting the invitation of still somewhat strange men. Even though jack and her have met up after that garage sale, to work, to talk, to hang out, she still is unsure of all of that.
That’s also what [name] has told him right after he invited her yesterday, she has always been direct with her thoughts and concerns. And bless him, instead of getting offended as she has initially thought, jack met her concerns with understanding, emphasizing that he understands and that he will see what he can do to make it more comfortable for her.
“you actually want me to come?” her voice was laced with hope during that call, shocked at his persistence.
“not only me,” his voice came easy from the other side of the line, “miles and vi-, uh, like, the others also liked you a lot. you’re chill, and that.”
After that, jack has called her once more to let her know that some other girls would be there, two of their closest friends who stay at their own place. He even has given her their numbers, to text and ask them if she needed [she didn’t, felt too shy to be honest].
This is how she finds herself standing in front of a big door, the sound of a heavy bass and laughter seeping through from the other side.
[name] shifts in her place, the sole of her feet pulsing with anticipation, hands clutching around the snacks she has bought along. Why has she become so shy all of a sudden, she never had such problems back home.
Ugh, whatever.
Just as she steps forward to ring the bell, a cheerful voice greets her from behind, stopping her actions.
“[name], right? Jack told me about you.” Her bright voice spreads a certain warmth in [name], easing the tension in her shoulders.
Her eyes take in her appearance quickly, long black hair, warm eyes and bright smile. She is a bit shorter than [name], still matching the rest of the height difference with a confident stance.
“yeah, hey,” she greets back, slightly startled when the woman in front of her steps forward to hug her quickly, “and you are?”
“huh? Oh, ah, yeah. Im Rachel, but like, everyone calls me Rae. So, yeah.” She laughs, stepping back.
They continue to stand there, mustering the other with their eyes until both of them start to giggle.
“that was so awkward, like, oh god.” Rae shakes her head, moving ahead to ring the bell, “but it’s nice to meet you.”
[name] shrugs, growing shy, “yeah, uhm. You too. I just didn’t know what to say-“
“ah, its fine,” rae waves, smiling at her, “wouldn’t be my first time.”
[name] opens her mouth to respond, though she stops once the door opens and both of them are met with the sight of a very flustered jack, cheeks red.
“I almost fell down the fucking stairs.” Is the first thing he says as he steps aside to let the two women enter, hand running through his hair to calm his nerves.
[name] can’t help but let her eyes wander around the hallway, taking in all those posters – which are mostly from some animes she hasn’t seen – and all the shoes, the jackets and even a plastic plant. It isn’t her place to judge, but from the way the posters are lined up, the way some random piece of clothing is left to catch dust in a a corner, it is pretty obvious that this house belongs to a group of guys.
“uh, yeah, so,” jack breaks the silence, reaching to take the snacks from [name]s hands, “the guys are upstairs, we kinda got this, like, cinema room, and yeah. I’ll prepare the snacks.” He explains, head nodding towards the staircase.
“want me to help?”
“nah, thanks. You and Rae go up, everyone’s waitin’” is all he says before he moves towards their open kitchen.
Rae smiles at [name], taking her hand in her own to lead her up the stairs, “so, jack kinda told me you’re not from here?”
[name] nods. “I’m from [Country], yeah.”
“I’ve been to different countries thanks to work, though never to [Country]. Whatcha got there?”
Shrugging, [name] follows Rae towards the new room on the second floor, looking around the hall, “you know, buildings, different cultures. It’s mostly calm, though.”
As they enter the cinema room, lights dim and various voices mixing, [name] takes a second to take in her environment. Couches lined up, in hopes to mimic actual cinema seats, a coffee table in front of each. The white wall opposite to it all functions as the screen she assumes, and she stays correct as she catches a glimpse of the projector in the far back. It actually looks quite nice, she must say.
“ladies!”
Miles is the first one to notice their arrival, voice booming across the room as he makes his way towards them. He pulls Rae into a quick hug and daps [name] up, making her giggle at his actions.
“hey, where’s jules?” rae asks, eyes in search for ‘jules’
Miles shrugs, leading the way to the others, “she cancelled, somethings came up I guess.”
Ah. Jules must be the second girl Jack has mentioned last time. A pity, even though [name] has just met Rae, she already has grown to like her. Well, the two of them are still holding hands, she hopes Rae feels the same.
It is after they both sit down and grab a drink, listening to one of the guys talking about his latest date, when [name] feels the cushion of the couch dip as someone takes place next to her.
“hey.” Voice low, vinnie gets comfortable next to her.
He smells nice, she notes. He also makes her feel weird, if she is being honest. Not in a bad way, but that air around him, his sharp eyes taking in each of her movements and everything else just seem quite intense.
Just like last time, he is wearing a tanktop, paired with shorts and slippers. Seeing his tattoos this close is actually quite nice, and even though she wants to stay as subtle about it as much as she can, being an art history major with a huge passion for arts in general makes it hard to resist.
[name] blinks. “hi.”
“so, you listen to Deftones?” He begins, leaning forward to take a cup from the coffee table in front of them.
[name] stares at him, not prepared for such question.
“uhm, no? not really. Do you?”
Vinnie clears his throat, “yeah, they’re nice, but like, I totally listen to others as well, y’know. Like – uh, yeah.” He shifts slightly, “uh, have you- have you seen luffy yet?”
Her eyes widen, voice high, “he’s here?”
“yeah, uh, I also live here and him and hera stay here with me. You can, like, you can see him if you want.”
Vinnie straightens his spine and shifts in his seat once more, his wide eyes not straying from [names] face. His cologne invades her space, in no way stingy or aggressive. Instead she feels comfortable, his scent only intensifying the warmth inside of her caused by his presence.
[name] looks around, everyone else, Rae included, is still talking, and jack has yet to return with the snacks. It isn’t as loud as it was when they first entered the room, some she has yet to meet are sitting down and looking at their phones. She wouldn’t be missed if she quickly goes ahead and sees fluffy for a second.
“what about the movie?” she asks, turning back to face vinnie, voice low as if she was telling him a secret.
“jack’s probably smockin’ ‘fore he comes up, we have like ten minutes.”
He stands up, back straight.
[name] copies him, following him out of the room to his own, she assumes.
“and hera is also a cat?”
Vinnie opens his door, broad back turned to her, “uh, yeah. Had her first, luffy’s been around for a few months now.”
They enter his room and the first thing she notices is the huge bed in the middle. The second thing she sees is a desk, a screen and a pc. There is also a mic, a comfortable desk chair and some figures on the desk. The room is big, decorated in darker colors, the colored posters along the wall a stark contrast to the general palate to the dark furniture.
She watches as vinnie tries to flick away a stray sock from his bed, hand scratching his upper arm, an attempt to look casual.
“hera’s probably downstairs, and luffy…” he looks around, but [name] has already found that bright orange fur hiding under his desk.
She crouches down, voice airy, “fluff! Hey there, baby. You remember me?”
She lifts her hand towards his nose, hoping that he would remember her. His tiny head softly bumps against it, allowing her to scratch his chin “oh, you’re such a baby, you like it?”
“so, you also got a cat?”
Oh, she forgot that he is also there.
Straightening her legs, [name] clears her throat before she answers, “uh, no. it was a dream of mine but my dad kinda hates animals inside the house.”
“you live alone now, though? I mean, Jack mentioned it once, I guess.”
Vinnie sits down on the edge of his bed, arms behind him to support his weight as he leans back.
[name] squads down once again when she feels Fluffy’s soft fur brushing against her leg, petting him some more.
“yeah, well. To study, y’know? Wouldn’t be smart to get attached.” She explains.
Vinnie nods, eyes wandering around his room as if searching for something as he speaks up again.
“uh, so. Are you with jack, or something?”
“you mean in a relationship?”
“I guess.”
Rolling her eyes, she lifts her head to look at him, “nah, more like his wingman.”
Vinnie licks his lips, nodding once more, “cool, cool. So like, you know that we, like, stream and shit, yeah?”
[name] takes a second to gather her thoughts, not sure where this conversation is going, “ah yes. Uh, jack told me after a week of hanging out, for our project, I don’t know if he told you-“
“yeah, he did.”
“yeah, so. He told me. It’s cool, not my bubble or whatever, but I respect it.” she finishes her explanation, unsure if that is what vinnie wanted to know.
After jack explained to [name] that him and his friends she met during the garage sale are all professional streamers with a rather large following, she was not sure what to think. But after talking it out and being honest from the very beginning, they both reached the conclusion that [name] would try to not show up in front of the camera if they were to film around her, nor would she share any information about them.
It was more about her safety rather than the others, as jack has told [name] about the different hate trains him and his friends had to witness.
This also explains why she felt as if she has had seen the others once when she first met them.
She didn’t really imagine meeting famous people when she promised herself to step out of her comfort zone. It hasn’t been long since she stepped on to American soil, though she feels as if she has been here for ages already.
Vinnie runs his hand through his hair, lips pressing into a tight smile, “cool, cool. So, you have tiktok?”
“I don’t.”
His head snaps to her, “no?”
Petting the cat one last time, she gets up and slowly walks towards one of his posters, looking at its details, “I had it, like, before the pandemic. Needed storage, deleted it and now its been a few years.”
“that’s crazy, what do you do then?”
“reels?”
“be for real, now.”
[name] narrows her eyes at his judgmental tone, scoffing as he raises his hands in some kid of defense, “I don’t know, it’s just when I’m bored. Leave me alone.”
“I am leaving you alone.”
“no, you’re not.”
“I deadass am.”
“no.”
Vinnie gets up, hands stemming on his hips, “I think it’s my right to know-“
“you’re a guy, you don’t have any rights.”
“oh, okay miss ma’am. am I even allowed to breathe anymore?”
“not with that attitude.” She rolls her eyes, not bothering to fight off the smile on her lips, “no wonder fl- uh, luffy’s got an attitude.”
Vinnie mock gasps, hand on his chest as if he has just witnessed the biggest betrayal known to mankind, “excuse me?”
Scoffing, she starts to walk towards the door, “shall we go back to the, uh, cinema room thingy?”
“yeah, sure. Whatever. We will be speaking again.” He waves his finger in front of her face, amused tone not ceasing a bit.
“yeah, yeah. Lead the way.”
Vinnie doesn’t understand why he feels this way about [name]. well, actually, he doesn’t even know what way he is talking about. it’s just, ever since they met again during that garage sale, he cannot help but want to get to know more about her. Is it because of her shy yet kind attitude, the way she tries to pay attention to whoever is talking right now, eyes wide and focused?
Or maybe it’s the calm energy around her, something he at times strays far away from. He knows that he can be loud, he is aware of his surroundings and that his job kind of requires him to be expressive and what not. So, seeing her be calm and talk in that soothing voice whenever someone asks her something, it’s just a nice contrast to what he is used to.
During that movie night yesterday, where he managed to get her away from the loudness to the quiet of his room, talking to her without anyone seeing. It was nice, incredibly so.
She was mean to him when he least expected it, pet luffy as if he was her own, and was a good listener. Additionally, she kind of seemed to not care about his status on social media, or how big his following actually is.
Well, at least that’s what he hopes. So far, he hasn’t seen her take any pictures during their gathering, nor has anything been leaked about their latest things. Vinnie is even unsure if he has seen her hold her phone in her hand at any time during the movie night. That was a good sign, no?
So, the next morning after the movie night, as vinnie walks down the stairs to the kitchen, he makes it his mission to get to know more about [name]. not in a stalker way, nah. But who knows. Having a calm friend that isn’t like one of the idiots he calls his own would be nice. A fresh breath of air, a warm blanket, a cold drink.
And what way would be the best to get more information about the lady that has been swirling around his mind every now and them?
Jack.
That same jack that is sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, phone in one head as he uses the other to take a bite out of his toast.
He has to be subtle, vinnie thinks. Jack is smart, and his jokes are annoying. If he ever finds out that vinnie wants to know more about his new friend, he’d never be able to save himself from his teasing.
His voice is raspy when he speaks up, low with some rest sleepiness, “‘sup.”
Jack nods back at him, small smile on his lips as he types on his phone.
Interesting.
Vinnie moves behind the stool jack is sitting on, eyes glancing at his phone in hopes to catch the reason why he is smiling.
His eyes catch jacks chat with [name], currently texting her about something that’s funny.
[name] is funny, he can admit, but jack? Not a chance.
His arms reach towards the cereal box, taking it out and bending down to get a bowl next.
“so, uh. Movie was nice, right?”
Jack hums, eyes looking up at his friend, “yeah. [name] actually recommend it.”
Vinnie nods, eyebrows rising in surprise, “cool. So, like, she’s cool with the rest?”
“yeah, I think she just needs some time to get around. She’s actually really fun, y’know.”
Jack puts his phone down, standing up to place his plate into the sink.
“yeah.” Vinnie turns around, lower back now pressing against the counter as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, “she got any social media? Or something.”
Smooth.
Jack nods, walking towards the living room, “yeah, she has an instagam. But, like a private one, y’know,” he breaks off to yawn, “fifty followers or something.”
That’s all he says before leaving the kitchen, leaving vinnie to stand alone, thinking.
Which is not always a good thing, if he may say so.
So, what if he just goes through jacks two thousand followings, in hopes to find her account. yeah, he could also just ask jack, but, nah. It’s not that deep. He thinks.
“bro, just let me tag along, c’mon.”
Vinnie follows jack to the front door, bag pack on his shoulders, cappy on backwards. It’s the perfect outfit to fit in, a cool college student who is going to meet up with his friends to work on a project. Chill. If only he actually was a student going out to meet his friends on campus.
It’s just that said friend won’t let him tag along, nor has he any way to contact the other friend, as he simply couldn’t find [names] instagram profile, no matter how hard he tried.
Who the fuck follows two thousand plus people anyway? Jack is crazy, that’s for sure.
“dude, listen, I love you, I’d press you against that wall and make out with you-“
“woah, okay that’s a bit too much-“
“-but I really need to finish this up. [name] has some other courses, and I have a stream scheduled outside of LA. Today’s the day, y‘know.”
Vinnie bends down to slip on his sneakers, voice eager, “and ‘m not ‘bout to annoy you guys. I’ll just be quiet, doing my stuff.”
“like what, read manga?”
He shrugs, “sure.”
Jack pats his friend’s shoulder, “then do it at home. you’re goddamn vinnie hacker, my wet dream-“
“you too, man.”
“and probably every other girl’s as well. I can’t risk getting swarmed or whatever, [name] would kill me, and she’s got a mean punch, so.”
Vinnie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to use this method; it’s something he doesn’t really enjoy, a last emergency resort, somehow. Though his dear friend does not leave him with any other option.
That is why he claps his hands together, pulling his lower lip out to a nasty pout, and putting on his best puppy eyes, a performance for the theatre.
“pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-“
“shut the fuck up and get your car keys.”
Too easy. Way too easy.
“‘sup, [name]?” vinnie eagerly [eagerly? No, he is just being polite, yeah] greets her, sitting down on the bench opposite to her.
Jack follows suit, apologetic look in his eyes, not sure how he would explain it to her. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy spending time with his best friend. it’s just, well, he knows him quite well. Too well. Knows that vinnie has an amazing talent at getting distracted in record time, never sitting still and running his mouth in light speed. Jack hopes that [name] doesn’t mind or well, hopefully doesn’t notice it.
“hey, vinnie.” [name] smiles at him, sitting up straight.
Her notes are already on the table, spread out along with her markers and some snacks. If she had known that vinnie would come along as well, she would have brought some more. She doesn’t feel as weird around him as she did back when they first met during the garage sale, their last conversation during the movie night easing the edges of their relationship. She couldn’t help but watch him that evening, couldn’t help but notice that he likes to shift in his seat, plug the fine hair on his face, at times even pulling his lips between his teeth. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, and as for now it seems as if she has been subtle enough.
Her eyes shift from his broad figure to jack, quietly watching as he pulls out his notes. This would be the last time they meet for their project, and even though [name] is grateful to finish all this early, thus making it easier for her to focus on her other studies, she also worries that this might be the last time they hang out together. Jack has become a great friend of hers, he has been even kind enough to introduce her to his other friends, trusting enough to tell her about their, well, other job as streamers and content creators. So far, she has yet to see them create any kind of content or stream, and for some reason she is holding back from simply looking them up. This trust jack has given her has risen to an eminent position, too valuable to risk anything just because of her curiosity.
After exchanging some small talk, [name] and jack immediately lock in, eyes focusing on something displayed on their laptops. [name] even writes something down in her notebook, her shoulders rounding forward as she leans down in concentration.
Vinnie swears that he isn’t watching her to be weird, but he simply can’t help himself. Something about her, the way she pulls her lip between her teeth or tits her head when she reads something from. The paper. Just, everything about her little mannerisms ends his concentration with no mercy.
His phone feels hotter than ever in his sweaty hand, his leg can’t stop shaking, and his pulse rings through his ears.
He promised jack that he wouldn’t bother them. He swore.
“I need a cold cigarette,” jack says, the first one to speak up after an hour has already passed, “or a new brain, anything.”
Next to him, [name] chuckles, sitting up straight, “coffee would be nice.”
This is it, vinnie thinks, immediately getting up, “wanna get some?” he asks, trying to keep his voice low.
Just as jack starts to get up from his seat, vinnie starts to cough aggressively, desperately trying to get his friend to understand, blinking with his eyes in some weird way. At first, he just freezes, looking up at his handsome friend with no clue, but when jack hears [name] start to shift to grab her phone out of her bag, he immediately plops back down onto his seat, winking at his friend knowingly.
“[name], you know my order?” he asks her, watching her get up and walk towards vinnie.
[name] nods, smiling at him, “yeah, no worries.”
The two of them wave at jack before leaving for the next café, walking side by side as a comfortable silence wraps itself around them-
Well, at least it is comfortable for [name].
Vinnie could feel his heart pound against his rips with such a force that he feels like throwing up. He never knew how to shut up, so why can’t he think of anything to say now? Should he ask her about her family? Or maybe if she liked to game?
“are you also leaving for L.A. tomorrow?” she is the first one to break the silence, looking at his eyes.
Vinnie clears his throat, stepping forward to open the door of the café. His eyes follow her as she enters first, eagerly following her inside.
“uh, no. jack’s with this group for some new game,” he begins, standing next to her, “I’m doing more independent stuff these days.”
“oh, cool.”
Just as vinnie tries to speak up once more, desperate to keep the conversation flowing, the loud voice of the barista interrupts him, kindly asking them about their order.
As if on autopilot, he states their order, even [gently] pushing [name] away to pay for it.
“I wanted to treat you guys!” [name] scoffs, smiling up at him, “thank you, though.”
Vinnie nods back at her, pressing his lips into a smile, not trusting his voice at the moment.
Why couldn’t he talk to her just as he did yesterday? They even bickered, he could be calm next to her, confident, even. Why isn’t it working out now?
unedited, unfinished draft of something I had laying around for a while. I am not sure when I will be finishing this up.
summary: [name] promised herself not to get too attached to anyone or anything during her exchange year in America. a week in, she not only gets attached to a stray cat, but also to its owner, slowly but surely.
It wasn’t every day that she decided to leave her home and spend an entire day at campus without her headphones. Nor is it that she would ever decide such thing anyway, instead, it was time running faster than ever this morning, her alarm not ringing loud enough, the stove plotting against her, all of those causing her to forget more than just her headphones. Now she has to deal with the loudness of the people from this foreign, yet still somewhat familiar continent, the cars in the background, the little stones screeching under the pressure of her foot as she walks ahead.
Los Angeles is humid in that golden, almost disorienting way – air heavy with anticipation and car exhaust, with laughter and chatter carrying itself around the park. She has always liked spring, liked the way in which wearing just a hoodie or long sleeve shirt was enough to get by. Though [name] isn’t sure if it is the same here in America. Maybe it is her imagination, or maybe it is her brain that was washed by all the stuff she had seen about America back then, but the sun up high along with the greenery surrounding her made this spring afternoon feel hotter than ever.
She adjusts the strap of her heavy bag, suddenly missing her headphones even more.
The walk from campus to her apartment isn’t that long, filling her with relief that she is able to walk around a bit and not rely on any kind of transportation in form of a vehicle. Though it has been a week since she has arrived here in the states, [name] still must get used to a lot around here; the loudness, the touchy-ness and almost robotic friendliness of the people here a stark contrast to what she is used in her home country. She is halfway down the street leading to her apartment when she feels something fluffy brush against her ankle, almost like a gentle breeze. So, when she looks down to find a fluffy cat looking up at her with its big, yellow eyes, she almost jumps away.
An orange cat, quite cute actually, the way it looks up to her and gently meows. [name] doesn’t regret a thing as she crouches down and meows right back at it, her hand scratching its chin, a chuckle leaving her as the cat leans against her hand. [name] raises her head to look around, anything to find out if that little guy [at least, that is what she thinks it is] has an owner or someone looking for him. There isn’t a collar in sight, nor anything else that would help her make out where he has come from. And even though [name] wouldn’t mind spending the rest of her evening petting a cat and meowing at it, she still has some chores waiting for her back home, and a new chapter that she has to prepare for her seminar in the morning.
With a heavy sigh and even heavier heart, she straightens her legs and softly waves at the cat, a small, yet in her eyes very tragic, goodbye. She tries to continue her walk home, mind already preparing a small to-do list she plans to work through for the rest of her evening. Turning her head back one last time to see the cat, she finds herself come to a halt when she sees the cat standing next to her, head looking up, eyes focused on her.
“eh,” she begins, at a loss for words, “do you want more scratches?”
It must be that American air that made her ask a cat a genuine question.
She sighs, hands on her hips, “I really wish I could, but, I, I kinda have to leave, you know?”
The cat meows at her again, tone rather persistent if she may add.
[name] starts looking around once again, hoping to see a figure that is desperately looking for their cat, or anything, really. Though for the first time since she has set foot on American soil, she finds herself completely alone outside of her apartment, the streets echoing with each step she takes, no car in sight and no sound from any house merging.
Maybe if she just keeps walking without paying that little guy any mind, he’ll go home on his own. what if they live in the same direction? She can’t just shoo him away if that is the case now, can she?
That is how the two strangers find themselves in front of a closed door of [name]s apartment building, fluffy [that is what she has named him during their 5-minute walk] sitting next to her, as if it is the most normal thing on the world. As if they have always entered this building together or whatever.
“ugh, you can’t be-“ [name] pauses to take a deep breath, fingers clutching the bride of her nose as if she has witnessed the biggest disappointment to mankind, “you can’t be here, fluff. Really, don’t you think your family will miss you?”
All she receives is a small meow. [name] scoffs, of course that would be all she gets.
She squads down, eyes stern, “listen, I love you, okay?”
Orange eyes slowly blink back at her, as if it understands what she is saying.
“I feel weirdly connected to you, as if you are the first person – kinda thing - that has understood me here. But you gotta return home, man.”
The cat blinks back at her once more before it shakes his head as it sneezes.
“well,” [name] gets up, posture straight, “this is where we part.”
[name] throws herself onto her couch after she placed the bowl with canned tuna on the floor next to her small coffee table. She cannot believe that this thing has managed to convince her to let it crash at her place for the time being.
The quiet sound of wet food being eaten fills the silence of her small apartment, the smell of canned tuna filling her nose.
“ugh.” She groans, head resting against the back of her couch.
When she was told that America will be a crazy chapter in her life, she did not expect this. An orange cat, time management problems – which she never had before – and those weird schedule times of university courses.
Instead of letting her thoughts distract her, [name] decides it is finally time to get up and at least clean her kitchen. Or do something, really.
A chuckle leaves her throat as she thinks back to the time her mother told her that it seemed like she has bees up her ass, never sitting still, always somehow moving. Even though she is a self-claimed homebody. And now that homebody has to share her space with another homebody as it seems. At least she likes cats, she guesses.
That night, [name] finds herself sharing her bed with fluffy, who takes up more space than her, disregarding their sizes. He sprawls across her bed like a king, has already claimed every surface of her apartment within his first hour here, hissed at [name] when she moved to quickly, and he somehow still seems to like her. One paw presses against her arm, his soft purrs lulling [name] to a soft state, almost asleep yet still conscious. She didn’t talk to fluffy that much, besides a few meows here and there when she genuinely couldn’t resist anymore.
[name] figured that someone is probably missing him, and as soon as she finishes her classes the next morning, she will try to find any clue of a missing cat announcement or whatever. A new sense of determination pulses through her veins, fluffy’s soft snores easing her mind.
Yeah, that will do.
It isn’t until the next morning, outside a coffee shop near the street she found fluffy on, when her eyes catch a glimpse of a missing cat poster, its picture showing a cat with the same audacity as the one currently sitting inside her home.
LOST CAT — LUFFY
orange tappy, orange eyes, attitude problem.
last seen near UCLA campus.
REWARD.
please call: [number]
Huh.
[name] fishes out her phone from her back pocket and snaps a quick picture of the flyer with the intention of calling as soon as her classes finish.
Relief washes over her as she continues her way to campus. She would have killed to have a cat of her own, but getting attached while she is on an exchange program is simply too much of a risk she isn’t willing to take. She already loves fluffy – or well, luffy – a lot, but it will be the best option for both parties to sperate before any of them grows attached.
Studies first, attachment later.
Her gaze stays fixed on the ground as she moves along the trees, only ever rising when she feels someone get closer to her. A guy.
Oh, man.
He seems kind, she thinks, kinda. They all do, if she is being honest. [name] is aware that she has to get used to this very open and communicative culture that would become her new home for the next year, though she simply can’t bring herself to mirror everyone’s enthusiasm here.
“hey,” the blonde guy speaks up, voice laced with kindness with a hint of confidence, “saw you around yesterday and actually wanted to talk to you, but, like, you kinda vanished, and I didn’t get the chance anymore.”
She blinks once, “okay.”
“I’m jack.” He introduces himself, offering her his hand to shake, which she does.
“[name], nice to meet you.” She actually wants to smash her head against a wall for sounding so flat and disinterested. This is her chance to get connections, she has to pull herself together.
He flashes her his teeth in a cheeky grin, “you too! I know ‘t’s weird, like, why would I just come here, but I, uh, I saw that we share a class and there is this group project comin’”
[name] looks down at his lips in concentration, not wanting to miss anything he says. She must admit, he does speak fast, and the dialect is also something she has yet get used to.
“oh,” she straightens her back, “do you want to work together?”
“yeah! Would that be okay?”
She shrugs, she needs someone to work with anyway, “sure.”
After exchanging numbers, and another round of thank you’s from jack, both part their ways to move along with their days.
She fucking hates group projects.
The call was brief.
The voice on the other hand – a man, rather old, though not grandpa-age-old - thanked her profusely. Said he’d arrange a pick-up from her place, which she at first tried to decline.
But of course, people could be persistent, so now she is standing in front of her apartment building, freshly changed into comfortable clothes and face bare. She holds Fluffy in her arms as if he was a newborn, though the cat doesn’t seem to mind.
The person on the phone said that [name] would be able to recognize the person that would come to pick the cat up, and even though she highly doubts it because she has only been here for a week, she also stopped trying from the very beginning. She guesses that the person would understand who she is when they see her holding their cat in her arms.
“how long does it take” she murmurs under her breath to fluffy, who doesn’t pay her any mind and stays fast asleep inside her arms.
Lucky guy.
Just as she is about to annoy him some more, she hears a soft, almost hesitant voice from in front of her. [name] looks up and is immediately met by the sight of a tall guy. Hoodie half-on, hood up and cappy pulled down to hide his face. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up, revealing the ink dancing around his skin in an interesting formation. His right hand holds a carrier – for fluffy – and his other hand clutches around his phone.
[name] doesn’t mean to react, though she can’t help herself and take a step back, that tall and somewhat hidden appearance making a shudder run down her spine.
“oh,” she clears her throat, “you must be here for him, right?”
Stupid ass question, she scoffs at herself, of course he is.
“yeah,” his voice was deep, eyes briefly glancing at her before they focus on the ball of fluff sleepin inside her arms, “luffy, c’mon.”
He takes a step forward, [name] takes one back.
As she sees the confusion settling on his features – which are actually quite pretty, if she may say so – she speaks up to explain herself, “proof?”
“proof?”
“yeah, something that shows me he’s with you. What if you just pretend to be his owner or whatever” She gently pushes her arms forward as she gestures to luffy. She has heard some crazy stuff about Americans, she is not about to risk anything. Is that mean? She guesses so, but oh, who cares.
The man nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he whispers a small “fair.”, unlocking his phone to show [name] a rather, well, interesting picture of them both wearing cowboy hats and fake mustaches.
“here you go.” She mutters, holding her arms up for the stranger to take luffy, who seems not so pleased to see his owner. He even looks quite annoyed.
Luffy lets out a soft, miserable mewl, clinging onto her sleeve as the stranger in front of her encloses his hands around Luffy’s small body.
“I think he likes you more than he likes me.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at his cats’ behavior.
[name] doesn’t say anything, just a gentle smile as she takes a small step back.
“thanks again, honestly.” He speaks up again, “and about the reward-“
“it’s fine.” She cuts him off, holding her hand up slightly to stop his hand from taking something out of his pocket.
A frown settles upon his handsome features, “no, it’s what was promised, like-“
“it’s really fine. Thank you.” She nods to emphasize her point.
“’ight. I ‘preciate it.”
[name] nods one last time, starting to walk towards the door at the same time the guy picks up the carrier to get along as well. Both smile at the other as a form to say goodbye.
And with that, she walks up the stairs.
[name] decides to meet up with jack that very week, the end of her first week here in the states. LA has finally shaken off its gloomy spring morning and has started to blister properly. She is still in a haze – assignments, essays, settling into her new apartment, faces that blend into each other – and the air around the campus is still to calm, students had to yet settle into the new semester.
As she places her bag onto the wooden table, jacks soft voice meets her ears halfway, laced with tiredness form the day before, “I fucking hate that guy, for real.”
She chuckles at his greeting, “yeah, it is quite mean, no?”
It’s not like she has never worked on a group assignment before; no. [name] has worked on a fair share of projects until now, her university somehow believing that group assignment would help students to get better grades. What she isn’t used to, though, is having a group assignment in her first week of the semester, the professor way to passionate in the way he talked about his expectations for the class.
“Where are you from, by the way.” Jack sits up as he asks her, eyes curious and brows raised.
[name] raises her eyebrows, “that obvious?”
Her accent has always been subtle, at least that is what she thinks. [name] has been speaking English for a long time, she had to. Schools valued it, and to be honest, all the fanfictions that are somewhat bearable are written in English, she has to know the language to appreciate fine arts.
Jack shrugs, shooting her a grin as he takes out his MacBook from his bag.
“[Country], you know. Multicultural and all.” She answers, spine straight as she sits down on the hard bench.
“that’s crazy.” Is all he says before both settle for a comfortable silence, eyes focusing on the document that explains their project requirements in great detail.
A gentle breeze caresses her cheeks, its warmth easing the tension in her upper body. Is she supposed to say anything else? Keep the conversation flowing, or should she stay quiet? This is why she isn’t a fan of group projects. What is she even supposed to do now? If given the chance, [name] would simply do all the work by herself, her experience with group projects breaking her trust in others regarding that topic. though jack seems to take it just as seriously, not once has he touched his phone nor tried to find reasons for why he couldn’t stay any longer. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it has been before.
Hope blossoms inside her chest. This could be her chance to start anew, grow and learn to be an optimistic person, instead of someone who doubts others before they could get any chance. Maybe being here, in a foreign continent, stuck between people who smiled way too much for her liking, would help her change her perspective of life as well.
Yeah, that is it.
She nods to herself, subtle but there. She will give jack a chance, she will try to reach out first as well. No more closing in, no more staying at home all day when she has the chance to go out and meet new people.
If she grows close enough to jack, who knows. Perhaps he would like her enough to introduce her to his own friends, just because he believes that she is cool enough, or whatever. [name] isn’t looking for any serious attachments here, anyway. All she wants it to fight against her own habit of closing herself off to people, she wants to step out of her comfort zone, even if it is just this one time.
At least, that’s what she has thought those few days ago, when her and jack just started to work on their project.
How was she supposed to know that he would grow to like her immediately afterwards? Yes, it was her that planned to change her ways during her stay in the states, but she also needed some time to make peace with her decision. She wasn’t aware of how it would lead her to her current situation, standing amid a garage sale with a group of guys she has never met before.
Even though the weather is mild and clouds filled the sky, the perfect time to have a quiet tea on her balcony, in her opinion, the loud voices of those guys jack has introduced her to find their place in this peaceful vibe.
While there are may other people here who want to wander through the different stands and leave some money for those who are selling, the sound of bargains and music stands no chance against jack and his crew, some of them even holding cameras to film their adventures.
[name] has yet to meet all of them, jack has told her before that some of his friends would arrive later due to an earlier schedule.
“I bet you guys would get along just fine, [name],” he began, voice rough after all the studying they had done, “you’re, like, a bit quiet, but, like, they all are cool and wouldn’t mind you taggn’ along, y’know.” He finished, hopeful that he could persuade his new friend to join him for his weekend activities.
“but-“ [name] started, unsure if she was mentally prepared to step out of her zone that fast.
Jack cut her off, blue eyes rolling, “nah, save it, man. I’ll textcha the location, ‘kay?”
She wants to go home.
She misses her couch, her book.
Hell, she even misses fluffy’s mean look even though it's been almost two weeks since she last saw him.
[name] is aware that jack seems to trust her enough to introduce her to his friends, but she is also aware that he cant stand next to her the entire time and make them wait for her grow more comfortable around her new environment.
They all seem so, how should she phrase it, energetic? Chaotic, maybe, if she is being honest. Loud conversation flowing around, laughter, shouting and weird movements fill in her senses. They kind of remind her of her cousins back home, just as wild and unpredictable.
“yo, vin!” the one with black hair yells out all of a sudden, arm raised in a greeting as his [fuck, she forgot his name], eyes focus on ‘vin’ behind her.
Curious, she tilts her head back to see the newcomer, and is met with a familiar sight. It feels like as if she has seen this guy before, his tall frame and sharp features ringing a bell inside her mind.
Dirty-blonde hair, a tank top that reveals many of his scattered tattoos along his sun-kissed skin, loose pants, and his phone in hand. He greets black-hair-guy with a big grin, eyes looking ahead and nowhere else.
Is he someone she might have seen on campus? Those tattoos, that nose piercing. She knows them from somewhere, her eyes narrow as she gazes down at the lawn, mind trying to find the right pieces.
“and this,” Jack comes up from her side, his warm and gently resting on her shoulder as he pulls [name] out of her thoughts, “is [name], exchange program and all, she’s pretty chill.”
[name] looks up to face the guy that has just arrived, watching as his eyes widen a bit from the sight of her.
So she is right, they do know each other, kinda.
“that’s vinnie, vin, vincent-“
Vinnie interrupts his friend with a tight smile, arms crossing in front of his chest, “vinnie’s enough.” He clears his throat, slightly shifting in his stance, “[name], right? Uh, like, how, how have you been?”
Jack seems happy with his work, squeezing her shoulder one last time before he moves back to joke about something with the others, at least, that’s what [name] thinks.
[name] mirrors his actions, crossing her arms, quickly glancing to her side as if to collect her thoughts, “good, thank you. Uh, this, okay this sounds weird, but have we met before? I know we did, but I, yeah.”
It seems as if a new sense if realization washes over vinnie when he hears her question, lips pulling into a soft smile.
“I came to pick up the cat, almost been a week.”
Her eyes widen a bit, suddenly the face in front of her matching with the one she has seen last week, “oh! How is he?”
Vinnie laughs at her question, his hand reaching up to scratch his nape, “uh, yeah, he’s fine, a bit of a troublemaker, like, always. But he’s good. Thanks again for taking care of him.”
[name] feels herself break into a bright smile, the news about her first friend here somehow filling her with a certain warmth.
“you are very welcome, i’m glad he’s okay.”
And that’s how the two of them find themselves in a, well, comfortable?, silence, glancing around the garage sale, taking small steps ahead as they somewhat decided to just walk around. [name] did say that she wants to make more connections and step out of her comfort zone, though what is she supposed to do now?
She subtly [she hopes it is subtle] looks up at his tall figure every now and then as they continue their walk in silence, eyes soaking in his sharp features. Up from his eyebrows and big, brown eyes, to his sharp nose and all the way down to his lips and his chin.
When she catches herself actually checking out a literal stranger, she straightens her spine to clear her thoughts.
Get it together, that’s so embarrassing.
“so,” she decides its time to speak up, this is her chance, “uh, do you do this often?”
Someone throw her out of a window this fucking now.
Vinnie chuckles next to her, head turning to face her, the amusement very much present on his face, “well, not really,” he shrugs, stopping to look at a cap that is placed on one of the tables, “but, miles wanted to try something for a new video thing, y’know?”
She didn’t, but whatever.
“oh, okay.”
“and you?”
She looks up at him again, trying to collect her thoughts, “yeah, back when I was a kid. My parents made me sell my own toys. Was a hard time.”
[name] smiles as she looks down at her hands, the mentioning of her parents making her miss them even more.
“that’s crazy,” they continue their walk, slowly heading to the group, “I hate losing things I like, would have hidden them all or something.” He grins, mouth opening to say something more before he is interrupted by one if his friends calling him for something.
With a quick wave, vinnie steps away and greets his friend with a handshake, loud voices suddenly becoming even louder.
Well, that was nice, she thinks. One more person she knows now, one more step ahead. Though she couldn’t shake away the feeling that she is missing something. Jack, vinnie, hell even the others even though they didn’t talk that much to her, all seem familiar. As if they have met before, which can't be the case. This is her first time she is in America, and she doubts that any of them would have come to her small town back home.
She watches as the one with brown hair, she thinks his name is miles, walks towards her, hands in his pockets. All if them have welcomed her with open arms when jack first introduced her to the round, though this is the first time any of them has come up to her to talk.
“aye, wanna check out that book stand? Jack’s told me you like, uh, those philosophy books, and stuff.”
[name] smiles at his kind attempt to make her feel included, gladly accepting his offer.
Just as she has done before with vinnie, miles and her walk around the remaining tables in a comfortable pace, falling into an even more comfortable conversation initiated from his side.
That is how she finds herself, 15 minutes later, arms straining from the two heavy bags filled with books she was carrying, heading towards the car jack had picked her up with previously.
“oh, shit.” Jacks eyes widen when he sees the bag she is carrying, gently coming up to take those from her.
“i-“
“shut up.”
“okay?”
Placing the bags into his trunk, he turns back to speak up again, “wanna come with us to get some drinks? The guys like you, so, like, no pressure or whatever.”
She walks up to the passenger side of the car, taking in his words. She has thought the complete opposite, actually. Thinking that she has been a bit too quiet, less invested in their doings which made them take a step back from her. And honestly, she really wants to go home for the day, all the tables filled with various things, people yelling around the field to sell their stuff and the guys talking loudly than ever kind of drained her for the rest of the evening.
“would it be weird to decline?”
Jack scoffs, already opening his side of the car, “dude, no it wouldn’t. ill drive u back, yeah?”
[name] wasn’t joking last time when she said that she believes that the others did not like her that much.
After jack has dropped her off and waved her goodbye that evening, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t meet again other than for their project. Heck, maybe she isn’t that bad to spend time with, she has her funny moments, she thinks. She hopes. But all of them are guys, men, people. With her being the only woman there, it might have made them feel uncomfortable, at least that’s how she perceived it when she stood next to them during that garage sale.
That is why it isn’t hard to understand her shock when jack has invited her to meet with the others for a film night at their place.
At. Their. Place.
She is aware that it’s a stupid idea, accepting the invitation of still somewhat strange men. Even though jack and her have met up after that garage sale, to work, to talk, to hang out, she still is unsure of all of that.
That’s also what [name] has told him right after he invited her yesterday, she has always been direct with her thoughts and concerns. And bless him, instead of getting offended as she has initially thought, jack met her concerns with understanding, emphasizing that he understands and that he will see what he can do to make it more comfortable for her.
“you actually want me to come?” her voice was laced with hope during that call, shocked at his persistence.
“not only me,” his voice came easy from the other side of the line, “miles and vi-, uh, like, the others also liked you a lot. you’re chill, and that.”
After that, jack has called her once more to let her know that some other girls would be there, two of their closest friends who stay at their own place. He even has given her their numbers, to text and ask them if she needed [she didn’t, felt too shy to be honest].
This is how she finds herself standing in front of a big door, the sound of a heavy bass and laughter seeping through from the other side.
[name] shifts in her place, the sole of her feet pulsing with anticipation, hands clutching around the snacks she has bought along. Why has she become so shy all of a sudden, she never had such problems back home.
Ugh, whatever.
Just as she steps forward to ring the bell, a cheerful voice greets her from behind, stopping her actions.
“[name], right? Jack told me about you.” Her bright voice spreads a certain warmth in [name], easing the tension in her shoulders.
Her eyes take in her appearance quickly, long black hair, warm eyes and bright smile. She is a bit shorter than [name], still matching the rest of the height difference with a confident stance.
“yeah, hey,” she greets back, slightly startled when the woman in front of her steps forward to hug her quickly, “and you are?”
“huh? Oh, ah, yeah. Im Rachel, but like, everyone calls me Rae. So, yeah.” She laughs, stepping back.
They continue to stand there, mustering the other with their eyes until both of them start to giggle.
“that was so awkward, like, oh god.” Rae shakes her head, moving ahead to ring the bell, “but it’s nice to meet you.”
[name] shrugs, growing shy, “yeah, uhm. You too. I just didn’t know what to say-“
“ah, its fine,” rae waves, smiling at her, “wouldn’t be my first time.”
[name] opens her mouth to respond, though she stops once the door opens and both of them are met with the sight of a very flustered jack, cheeks red.
“I almost fell down the fucking stairs.” Is the first thing he says as he steps aside to let the two women enter, hand running through his hair to calm his nerves.
[name] can’t help but let her eyes wander around the hallway, taking in all those posters – which are mostly from some animes she hasn’t seen – and all the shoes, the jackets and even a plastic plant. It isn’t her place to judge, but from the way the posters are lined up, the way some random piece of clothing is left to catch dust in a a corner, it is pretty obvious that this house belongs to a group of guys.
“uh, yeah, so,” jack breaks the silence, reaching to take the snacks from [name]s hands, “the guys are upstairs, we kinda got this, like, cinema room, and yeah. I’ll prepare the snacks.” He explains, head nodding towards the staircase.
“want me to help?”
“nah, thanks. You and Rae go up, everyone’s waitin’” is all he says before he moves towards their open kitchen.
Rae smiles at [name], taking her hand in her own to lead her up the stairs, “so, jack kinda told me you’re not from here?”
[name] nods. “I’m from [Country], yeah.”
“I’ve been to different countries thanks to work, though never to [Country]. Whatcha got there?”
Shrugging, [name] follows Rae towards the new room on the second floor, looking around the hall, “you know, buildings, different cultures. It’s mostly calm, though.”
As they enter the cinema room, lights dim and various voices mixing, [name] takes a second to take in her environment. Couches lined up, in hopes to mimic actual cinema seats, a coffee table in front of each. The white wall opposite to it all functions as the screen she assumes, and she stays correct as she catches a glimpse of the projector in the far back. It actually looks quite nice, she must say.
“ladies!”
Miles is the first one to notice their arrival, voice booming across the room as he makes his way towards them. He pulls Rae into a quick hug and daps [name] up, making her giggle at his actions.
“hey, where’s jules?” rae asks, eyes in search for ‘jules’
Miles shrugs, leading the way to the others, “she cancelled, somethings came up I guess.”
Ah. Jules must be the second girl Jack has mentioned last time. A pity, even though [name] has just met Rae, she already has grown to like her. Well, the two of them are still holding hands, she hopes Rae feels the same.
It is after they both sit down and grab a drink, listening to one of the guys talking about his latest date, when [name] feels the cushion of the couch dip as someone takes place next to her.
“hey.” Voice low, vinnie gets comfortable next to her.
He smells nice, she notes. He also makes her feel weird, if she is being honest. Not in a bad way, but that air around him, his sharp eyes taking in each of her movements and everything else just seem quite intense.
Just like last time, he is wearing a tanktop, paired with shorts and slippers. Seeing his tattoos this close is actually quite nice, and even though she wants to stay as subtle about it as much as she can, being an art history major with a huge passion for arts in general makes it hard to resist.
[name] blinks. “hi.”
“so, you listen to Deftones?” He begins, leaning forward to take a cup from the coffee table in front of them.
[name] stares at him, not prepared for such question.
“uhm, no? not really. Do you?”
Vinnie clears his throat, “yeah, they’re nice, but like, I totally listen to others as well, y’know. Like – uh, yeah.” He shifts slightly, “uh, have you- have you seen luffy yet?”
Her eyes widen, voice high, “he’s here?”
“yeah, uh, I also live here and him and hera stay here with me. You can, like, you can see him if you want.”
Vinnie straightens his spine and shifts in his seat once more, his wide eyes not straying from [names] face. His cologne invades her space, in no way stingy or aggressive. Instead she feels comfortable, his scent only intensifying the warmth inside of her caused by his presence.
[name] looks around, everyone else, Rae included, is still talking, and jack has yet to return with the snacks. It isn’t as loud as it was when they first entered the room, some she has yet to meet are sitting down and looking at their phones. She wouldn’t be missed if she quickly goes ahead and sees fluffy for a second.
“what about the movie?” she asks, turning back to face vinnie, voice low as if she was telling him a secret.
“jack’s probably smockin’ ‘fore he comes up, we have like ten minutes.”
He stands up, back straight.
[name] copies him, following him out of the room to his own, she assumes.
“and hera is also a cat?”
Vinnie opens his door, broad back turned to her, “uh, yeah. Had her first, luffy’s been around for a few months now.”
They enter his room and the first thing she notices is the huge bed in the middle. The second thing she sees is a desk, a screen and a pc. There is also a mic, a comfortable desk chair and some figures on the desk. The room is big, decorated in darker colors, the colored posters along the wall a stark contrast to the general palate to the dark furniture.
She watches as vinnie tries to flick away a stray sock from his bed, hand scratching his upper arm, an attempt to look casual.
“hera’s probably downstairs, and luffy…” he looks around, but [name] has already found that bright orange fur hiding under his desk.
She crouches down, voice airy, “fluff! Hey there, baby. You remember me?”
She lifts her hand towards his nose, hoping that he would remember her. His tiny head softly bumps against it, allowing her to scratch his chin “oh, you’re such a baby, you like it?”
“so, you also got a cat?”
Oh, she forgot that he is also there.
Straightening her legs, [name] clears her throat before she answers, “uh, no. it was a dream of mine but my dad kinda hates animals inside the house.”
“you live alone now, though? I mean, Jack mentioned it once, I guess.”
Vinnie sits down on the edge of his bed, arms behind him to support his weight as he leans back.
[name] squads down once again when she feels Fluffy’s soft fur brushing against her leg, petting him some more.
“yeah, well. To study, y’know? Wouldn’t be smart to get attached.” She explains.
Vinnie nods, eyes wandering around his room as if searching for something as he speaks up again.
“uh, so. Are you with jack, or something?”
“you mean in a relationship?”
“I guess.”
Rolling her eyes, she lifts her head to look at him, “nah, more like his wingman.”
Vinnie licks his lips, nodding once more, “cool, cool. So like, you know that we, like, stream and shit, yeah?”
[name] takes a second to gather her thoughts, not sure where this conversation is going, “ah yes. Uh, jack told me after a week of hanging out, for our project, I don’t know if he told you-“
“yeah, he did.”
“yeah, so. He told me. It’s cool, not my bubble or whatever, but I respect it.” she finishes her explanation, unsure if that is what vinnie wanted to know.
After jack explained to [name] that him and his friends she met during the garage sale are all professional streamers with a rather large following, she was not sure what to think. But after talking it out and being honest from the very beginning, they both reached the conclusion that [name] would try to not show up in front of the camera if they were to film around her, nor would she share any information about them.
It was more about her safety rather than the others, as jack has told [name] about the different hate trains him and his friends had to witness.
This also explains why she felt as if she has had seen the others once when she first met them.
She didn’t really imagine meeting famous people when she promised herself to step out of her comfort zone. It hasn’t been long since she stepped on to American soil, though she feels as if she has been here for ages already.
Vinnie runs his hand through his hair, lips pressing into a tight smile, “cool, cool. So, you have tiktok?”
“I don’t.”
His head snaps to her, “no?”
Petting the cat one last time, she gets up and slowly walks towards one of his posters, looking at its details, “I had it, like, before the pandemic. Needed storage, deleted it and now its been a few years.”
“that’s crazy, what do you do then?”
“reels?”
“be for real, now.”
[name] narrows her eyes at his judgmental tone, scoffing as he raises his hands in some kid of defense, “I don’t know, it’s just when I’m bored. Leave me alone.”
“I am leaving you alone.”
“no, you’re not.”
“I deadass am.”
“no.”
Vinnie gets up, hands stemming on his hips, “I think it’s my right to know-“
“you’re a guy, you don’t have any rights.”
“oh, okay miss ma’am. am I even allowed to breathe anymore?”
“not with that attitude.” She rolls her eyes, not bothering to fight off the smile on her lips, “no wonder fl- uh, luffy’s got an attitude.”
Vinnie mock gasps, hand on his chest as if he has just witnessed the biggest betrayal known to mankind, “excuse me?”
Scoffing, she starts to walk towards the door, “shall we go back to the, uh, cinema room thingy?”
“yeah, sure. Whatever. We will be speaking again.” He waves his finger in front of her face, amused tone not ceasing a bit.
“yeah, yeah. Lead the way.”
Vinnie doesn’t understand why he feels this way about [name]. well, actually, he doesn’t even know what way he is talking about. it’s just, ever since they met again during that garage sale, he cannot help but want to get to know more about her. Is it because of her shy yet kind attitude, the way she tries to pay attention to whoever is talking right now, eyes wide and focused?
Or maybe it’s the calm energy around her, something he at times strays far away from. He knows that he can be loud, he is aware of his surroundings and that his job kind of requires him to be expressive and what not. So, seeing her be calm and talk in that soothing voice whenever someone asks her something, it’s just a nice contrast to what he is used to.
During that movie night yesterday, where he managed to get her away from the loudness to the quiet of his room, talking to her without anyone seeing. It was nice, incredibly so.
She was mean to him when he least expected it, pet luffy as if he was her own, and was a good listener. Additionally, she kind of seemed to not care about his status on social media, or how big his following actually is.
Well, at least that’s what he hopes. So far, he hasn’t seen her take any pictures during their gathering, nor has anything been leaked about their latest things. Vinnie is even unsure if he has seen her hold her phone in her hand at any time during the movie night. That was a good sign, no?
So, the next morning after the movie night, as vinnie walks down the stairs to the kitchen, he makes it his mission to get to know more about [name]. not in a stalker way, nah. But who knows. Having a calm friend that isn’t like one of the idiots he calls his own would be nice. A fresh breath of air, a warm blanket, a cold drink.
And what way would be the best to get more information about the lady that has been swirling around his mind every now and them?
Jack.
That same jack that is sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, phone in one head as he uses the other to take a bite out of his toast.
He has to be subtle, vinnie thinks. Jack is smart, and his jokes are annoying. If he ever finds out that vinnie wants to know more about his new friend, he’d never be able to save himself from his teasing.
His voice is raspy when he speaks up, low with some rest sleepiness, “‘sup.”
Jack nods back at him, small smile on his lips as he types on his phone.
Interesting.
Vinnie moves behind the stool jack is sitting on, eyes glancing at his phone in hopes to catch the reason why he is smiling.
His eyes catch jacks chat with [name], currently texting her about something that’s funny.
[name] is funny, he can admit, but jack? Not a chance.
His arms reach towards the cereal box, taking it out and bending down to get a bowl next.
“so, uh. Movie was nice, right?”
Jack hums, eyes looking up at his friend, “yeah. [name] actually recommend it.”
Vinnie nods, eyebrows rising in surprise, “cool. So, like, she’s cool with the rest?”
“yeah, I think she just needs some time to get around. She’s actually really fun, y’know.”
Jack puts his phone down, standing up to place his plate into the sink.
“yeah.” Vinnie turns around, lower back now pressing against the counter as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, “she got any social media? Or something.”
Smooth.
Jack nods, walking towards the living room, “yeah, she has an instagam. But, like a private one, y’know,” he breaks off to yawn, “fifty followers or something.”
That’s all he says before leaving the kitchen, leaving vinnie to stand alone, thinking.
Which is not always a good thing, if he may say so.
So, what if he just goes through jacks two thousand followings, in hopes to find her account. yeah, he could also just ask jack, but, nah. It’s not that deep. He thinks.
“bro, just let me tag along, c’mon.”
Vinnie follows jack to the front door, bag pack on his shoulders, cappy on backwards. It’s the perfect outfit to fit in, a cool college student who is going to meet up with his friends to work on a project. Chill. If only he actually was a student going out to meet his friends on campus.
It’s just that said friend won’t let him tag along, nor has he any way to contact the other friend, as he simply couldn’t find [names] instagram profile, no matter how hard he tried.
Who the fuck follows two thousand plus people anyway? Jack is crazy, that’s for sure.
“dude, listen, I love you, I’d press you against that wall and make out with you-“
“woah, okay that’s a bit too much-“
“-but I really need to finish this up. [name] has some other courses, and I have a stream scheduled outside of LA. Today’s the day, y‘know.”
Vinnie bends down to slip on his sneakers, voice eager, “and ‘m not ‘bout to annoy you guys. I’ll just be quiet, doing my stuff.”
“like what, read manga?”
He shrugs, “sure.”
Jack pats his friend’s shoulder, “then do it at home. you’re goddamn vinnie hacker, my wet dream-“
“you too, man.”
“and probably every other girl’s as well. I can’t risk getting swarmed or whatever, [name] would kill me, and she’s got a mean punch, so.”
Vinnie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to use this method; it’s something he doesn’t really enjoy, a last emergency resort, somehow. Though his dear friend does not leave him with any other option.
That is why he claps his hands together, pulling his lower lip out to a nasty pout, and putting on his best puppy eyes, a performance for the theatre.
“pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-“
“shut the fuck up and get your car keys.”
Too easy. Way too easy.
“‘sup, [name]?” vinnie eagerly [eagerly? No, he is just being polite, yeah] greets her, sitting down on the bench opposite to her.
Jack follows suit, apologetic look in his eyes, not sure how he would explain it to her. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy spending time with his best friend. it’s just, well, he knows him quite well. Too well. Knows that vinnie has an amazing talent at getting distracted in record time, never sitting still and running his mouth in light speed. Jack hopes that [name] doesn’t mind or well, hopefully doesn’t notice it.
“hey, vinnie.” [name] smiles at him, sitting up straight.
Her notes are already on the table, spread out along with her markers and some snacks. If she had known that vinnie would come along as well, she would have brought some more. She doesn’t feel as weird around him as she did back when they first met during the garage sale, their last conversation during the movie night easing the edges of their relationship. She couldn’t help but watch him that evening, couldn’t help but notice that he likes to shift in his seat, plug the fine hair on his face, at times even pulling his lips between his teeth. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, and as for now it seems as if she has been subtle enough.
Her eyes shift from his broad figure to jack, quietly watching as he pulls out his notes. This would be the last time they meet for their project, and even though [name] is grateful to finish all this early, thus making it easier for her to focus on her other studies, she also worries that this might be the last time they hang out together. Jack has become a great friend of hers, he has been even kind enough to introduce her to his other friends, trusting enough to tell her about their, well, other job as streamers and content creators. So far, she has yet to see them create any kind of content or stream, and for some reason she is holding back from simply looking them up. This trust jack has given her has risen to an eminent position, too valuable to risk anything just because of her curiosity.
After exchanging some small talk, [name] and jack immediately lock in, eyes focusing on something displayed on their laptops. [name] even writes something down in her notebook, her shoulders rounding forward as she leans down in concentration.
Vinnie swears that he isn’t watching her to be weird, but he simply can’t help himself. Something about her, the way she pulls her lip between her teeth or tits her head when she reads something from. The paper. Just, everything about her little mannerisms ends his concentration with no mercy.
His phone feels hotter than ever in his sweaty hand, his leg can’t stop shaking, and his pulse rings through his ears.
He promised jack that he wouldn’t bother them. He swore.
“I need a cold cigarette,” jack says, the first one to speak up after an hour has already passed, “or a new brain, anything.”
Next to him, [name] chuckles, sitting up straight, “coffee would be nice.”
This is it, vinnie thinks, immediately getting up, “wanna get some?” he asks, trying to keep his voice low.
Just as jack starts to get up from his seat, vinnie starts to cough aggressively, desperately trying to get his friend to understand, blinking with his eyes in some weird way. At first, he just freezes, looking up at his handsome friend with no clue, but when jack hears [name] start to shift to grab her phone out of her bag, he immediately plops back down onto his seat, winking at his friend knowingly.
“[name], you know my order?” he asks her, watching her get up and walk towards vinnie.
[name] nods, smiling at him, “yeah, no worries.”
The two of them wave at jack before leaving for the next café, walking side by side as a comfortable silence wraps itself around them-
Well, at least it is comfortable for [name].
Vinnie could feel his heart pound against his rips with such a force that he feels like throwing up. He never knew how to shut up, so why can’t he think of anything to say now? Should he ask her about her family? Or maybe if she liked to game?
“are you also leaving for L.A. tomorrow?” she is the first one to break the silence, looking at his eyes.
Vinnie clears his throat, stepping forward to open the door of the café. His eyes follow her as she enters first, eagerly following her inside.
“uh, no. jack’s with this group for some new game,” he begins, standing next to her, “I’m doing more independent stuff these days.”
“oh, cool.”
Just as vinnie tries to speak up once more, desperate to keep the conversation flowing, the loud voice of the barista interrupts him, kindly asking them about their order.
As if on autopilot, he states their order, even [gently] pushing [name] away to pay for it.
“I wanted to treat you guys!” [name] scoffs, smiling up at him, “thank you, though.”
Vinnie nods back at her, pressing his lips into a smile, not trusting his voice at the moment.
Why couldn’t he talk to her just as he did yesterday? They even bickered, he could be calm next to her, confident, even. Why isn’t it working out now?
—— a snippet about the story i mentioned earlier! even though its nit exactly about vincent, i still like him, he’s cool :)
NOT EDITED
————
“bro, just let me tag along, c’mon.”
Vinnie follows jack to the front door, bag pack on his shoulders, cappy on backwards. It’s the perfect outfit to fit in, a cool college student who is going to meet up with his friends to work on a project. Chill. If only he actually was a student going out to meet his friends on campus.
Its just that said friend wont let him tag along, nor has he any way to contact the other friend, as he simply couldn’t find [name]s instagram profile, no matter how hard he tried.
Who the fuck follows two thousand plus people anyway? Jack is crazy, that’s for sure.
“dude, listen, I love you, id press you against that wall and make out with you-“
“woah, okay that’s a bit too much-“
“-but I really need to finish this up. [name] has some other courses and I have a stream scheduled outside of LA. Today’s the day, y‘know.”
Vinnie bends down to slip on his sneakers, voice eager, “and ‘m not ‘bout to annoy you guys. Ill just be quiet, doing my stuff.”
“like what, read manga?”
He shrugs, “sure.”
Jack pats his friends shoulder, “then do it at home. you’re goddamn vinnie hacker, my wet dream-“
“you too, man.”
“and probably every other girls’ as well. I cant risk getting swarmed or whatever, [name] would kill me, and she’s got a mean punch, so.”
Vinnie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to use this resource; it’s something he doesn’t really enjoy. Though his dear friend does not leave him with any other option.
That is why he claps his hands together, pulling his lower lip out to a nasty pout and putting on his best puppy eyes, a performance for the theatre.
maybe i liked how the reader ignored jude and he felt the way reader was feeling before🤭.
could u do a part 2 where they find each other in madrid and jude start liking her and she does what jude did to her, u can choose if there’s going to be or not a happy ending 😄.
(no pressure, take care🩵).
i was actually thinking of first writing the events from judes perspective!!! but thats also a nice approach, i will definitely try to make it as angsty as possible!!!
